*20th December 1988*

*Day three of Paris*

Wow, this holiday is going quicker than lightning! Halfway through already!

I wake up before Michael today. I decide to be a little playful.

I get out of bed, planning my every move carefully so I don't wake Michael. I head on into the bathroom. I take a glass from the side, by the toothbrush holder. I fill it with water, then creep back into the bedroom.

I hover over Michael, the glass firmly in my grasp.

"Michael.. Michael.." I whisper.

He twitches a little, then, as he starts to open his eyes.. SPLASH! I tip the glass of water over his head, making him shield his face in a flash.

"ARGH!" he cries, making me die of laughter.

"Good morning, sweetie!" I chuckle, trying to hide my amusement.

Michael opens his eyes and gives me a dirty look. He seems angry.

"You didn't have to do that," he growls.

I think he's genuinely angry at me now.

He's soaking. But his curls are dripping. He looks so.. so..

"It was only a bit of fun, Michael," I giggle.

I take his hand and pull him out of bed.

"It's only fun when I know it's gonna happen!" he protests.

Damn, he's angry.

"I'm sorry, Michael," I apologise.

What's rattled his cage this morning?

He stands himself up, and brings all his curls to one side of his head. Hmm, he just looks ten times hotter angry and wet.

Suddenly, his phone goes off. He checks who it is.

"Who was that?" I ask.

I look over his shoulder to see the sender's name, but only a number is seen. He hides his phone from my sight.

"It's none of your business," he hisses, before putting his phone away and changing his shirt.

Hmm, angry, wet and shirtless. I need to see this more. Even if the reason why he's mad is because of me.

"So, what are we doing today?" I ask.

Michael ignores me.

"Uh, didn't you hear me? I asked what we're doing today," I repeat.

He gives me another dirty look.

"Nothing," he replies, almost sounding dejected.

"Look, I know you're angry that I tipped that water over you, but seriously, this is a little too extreme! It was a bit of fu-- where are you going?" I ask, seeing him grab his coat and walk towards the door.

"Out," he replies shortly, before exiting the room and slamming the door on the way out.

I sit on the bed, seeing the water stain I left there from splashing Michael a few minutes back.

What's gotten into him today? I only poured a little water on him!

I place my hand on my stomach gently.

"Daddy's being a little strange today, baby. I don't know what's gotten into him. He.. uh.. be got mad for me pouring water on him. It was only a little bit of fun. I didn't wanna make him mad or anything, sweetie," I say.

The room feels cold. Silence isn't something I like, and that's all there is in this room.

I'm gonna go for a walk.

I get changed and take my coat and place it over my shoulders. I head out the door.

I don't like being lonely in the City Of Romance. It isn't right.

I walk down the street, walking past the Eiffel Tower. I sigh as I remember the events that took place on the first night; the time alone me and Michael spent up there, the music, the illuminations, the dance at the end of the night. God, it was magical.

But that seems to have gone right now. Michael's mad at me for having a bit of fun. It isn't fair. I need to try find him. I need to think logically.

What does he love? If I were Michael Jackson, where would I wanna go in Paris?

Things I know about him: he's into SuperSoakers. Maybe not so much after this morning.

He acts badass when he can't do anything bad to save his life. Uh, are there any places that seem 'bad' around here? Nope.

His favourite number is 7. No, don't think that matters.

His favourite colour is purple. Would that be any help? Hmm.. don't think so.

I sigh to myself. Where would he be? Would he go up the Eiffel Tower without me? Would he go to the Arc De Triomphe without me? Nah..

Would he go to the Louvre Pyramid without me? Oh god, yes! He loved it when we went yesterday. He wanted to stay longer, but we had a lot to get round yesterday. Maybe he went without me!

I look around for a signpost for the Louvre. I find one heading East. I follow the signposts until I come to the Louvre.

It's quite early in the morning, so the sun is barely coming up. But I can see people walking by the Louvre already.

I approach the pyramid, hoping to find Michael there. I look around the pyramid, but no sign. Ugh, where are you Michael?

I begin to walk the other way, but then I see him. He's sitting on a bench.. with a girl.. another girl.. is he cheating on me? In Paris? The holiday I set up just for Michael?!

I run to the bench, tears in my eyes.

"Michael!" I growl. He turns his head my way.

"Oh, crap," he curses.

"Yeah, it is crap! What's going on!" I scream.

The girl turns her head. Oh god! Oh my GOD!

I take a step back in fright.

"Rachel?!" I cry in terror. Her face is expressionless.

"Hey, Becky, calm down! She won't hurt you!" Michael defends her.

What?! Why is he defending her?!

"Yes! It's just like my dream! You're gonna start kissing her and then you're gonna stab me and she's gonna shoot me and--"

"Hey! Calm down! I can explain!" Michael cries.

His hair is still wet. I'm too scared to care about that right now.

I take a step back, too scared to go near Rachel. She's gonna hurt me! She's gonna hurt me!

"No! No!" I cry nervously. "So, what's your thing with her?!"

"Baby, look, we aren't having a thing! I promise!"

"Then why the hell is she here?!"

"I don't know! She followed us here--"

"Followed us?! That's just like my dream!" I cry. Michael embraces me.

"She somehow managed to get my number, and she texted me this morning asking me to meet her!"

"Why the freaking hell did you go?! She coulda had a gun or anything!"

"She vowed not to hurt me.. and, about earlier, I'm sorry, ok? I was worked up. She texted me last night, but I didn't say anything. I'm sorry, ok? It didn't help that you threw water over me. But that wasn't what I was mad at," Michael explains.

I take him to one side.

"Why.. is she.. here?" I ask, tears in my eyes. He embraces me again.

"I don't know, I don't know," he says.

Rachel gets up from the bench and walks towards us. I step back in fright.

"Oh, Becky. I'm not gonna hurt you. I learnt my lesson. I know how painful it is to lose someone from them getting shot. I lost Daniel, I wouldn't want Michael to suffer, I couldn't hurt you again," she explains.

"I don't believe you," I growl.

She holds up her hands, as if surrendering.

"That's your choice. But I know I've changed. I'm not in The Jax anymore, ok? Everyone at college misses you," she says. I give her a dirty look.

"I'm not going back to school. Ever," I say sharply. Rachel gasps.

"Oh, but why?" she says mockingly. "Everyone misses you so very much."

"Becky's pregnant," Michael intervenes.

"Oh! And, when was I gonna be made aware of this?"

"You weren't," I say, giving Michael a mad look. "We want you out of our lives."

Rachel puts her hand on her chest and gasps again.

"Oh, well, isn't that rude! I only wanted to make things right, but you don't. I'm tryna be nice here, but you're refusing," she frowns.

Michael stands in front of me to block me and Rachel from each other.

"Rachel, why did you come to Paris?" Michael asks. Rachel smirks.

"I knew you were here, so I decided to pay a little visit," she says.

"But how did you know we were here in the first place?" Michael asks. Rachel laughs.

"Well, it helps knowing someone a little closer to home," she says.

"Who?" I ask. Rachel smirks again.

"Oh, just your ex best friend, Emma. And her little boyfriend, Mark," Rachel replies. My heart drops.

"Liar!" I snap, launching forward.

Michael tries to hold me back.

"Stop, it isn't worth it. Be careful!" he whispers in my ear.

It doesn't work. I start attacking Rachel, hitting her and everything. She simply stands still.

"Hmm, maybe you shouldn't do that, Becky," she says evilly.

I stop hitting her and look up. Michael takes a hold of my arm, to try and pull me back carefully to get me away from Rachel.

But he can't move. He's just as frozen as I am. We both stare at Rachel.

It's happening again.

She's got a gun.