When Steph woke up, she didn't find herself in the seat of the teleporter anymore.

Instead, she found herself in a large comfortable four-post bed. In fact, it was so comfortable, she regretted she sat up to take a look at her surroundings.

Her bed appeared to be in the middle of a large room, all her boxes had been unpacked, and best of all, her entire MJ collection was spread wonderfully across the four walls of her room, and was expanded further, as she noticed her t-shirts of Michael were in a white wardrobe which had a black MJ stencil on it. 

At times like this, she absolutely loved having an aristocrat's blood running through her veins.

Steph imagined how huge the rest of the place would be, the high ceilings, the large dining table, the wonderful smell of food from the kitchens, the home cinema, the massive indoor water park and pool, the library filled with books old and new, the dance room with all it's mirrors, and oh so many other things her great-grandmother let out whenever she had came to see her great-granddaughter.

But now, Steph felt like sinking back into her new bed, closing her eyes and let her mind drift somewhere else away from the fact that she was really here till the war was over.

She reconsidered doing it.

'Nah,' Steph thought to herself, grinning, 'This definitely needs some analysis of awesome around here, and I HAVE to do this!'

So she did, leaping out from under the covers and practically flying all over her massive room, staring at one thing for a small amount of time before jumping to the next. 

"Don't Blame it on the Sunshine, Don't Blame it on Moonlight, Don't Blame on the Good Times, Blame it on the Boogie!" Steph sang as she let her hand run and feel all the fabrics of her new clothing also now in her wardrobe, the music then kicking in.

Steph stopped. Music? 

She listened closely, and sure enough, 'Blame it on the Boogie' was playing loudly in her room.

She punched her fist into the air. A music player that immediately played a song by recognizing the lyrics?! OH YEAH!

Steph tested the floor for dancing quality. Perfect. Her moonwalk even kicked in when the music came to 'I just can't, I just can't, I just can't control my feet!' She laughed, she couldn't control her feet from dancing or running at all.

'Good sparkling glove above,' she thought, 'All this is just made from family heritage. My family was rich back then,' she giggled.

The music turned off when a suited figure opened the door to her room. "Ah, Miss Kisstern, you're up. My name is Barnaby, and I'm the butler for Ms. B, otherwise known as your great-grandmother."

Steph stopped dancing and looked at Barnaby, "Oh, good afternoon. Is there any reason for you to check on me or...?"

"Actually, I have some news and a letter for you from your great-grandmother. She told me not to tell you and let you read the letter, but..." Barnaby sighed, "I'm afraid Ms. B passed away yesterday. She really was looking forward to see you Miss Kisstern..."

Steph's face fell. She was looking forward to seeing her too and was pretty much bawling on the inside, but she kept herself firm and put on a calm face, even though it may have had a lot of sadness and disappointment in it as she took the letter from Barnaby and whispered thank you to him.

"Any time Miss Kisstern,"

"Please, do call me Stephanie..."

"As you wish Stephanie," Barnaby whispered back before leaving and closing the door. 

As soon as Barnaby was gone, Steph opened the envelope carefully, as there was a beautiful drawing of Michael on the front of it, only to find out it wasn't stuck closed with that lick-and-it sticks thing. 

Inside the envelope, there were photos, and the letter. 

'Dearest (oh God what?!) Great-Granddaughter Stephanie,

Steph giggled. She knew her great-grandmother didn't like being old, and had been the source of her cheeky and witty sense of humor.

'By the time you are reading this now, I will be dead...and partying with Michael up there, and you're stuck here in this ridiculous thing of a mansion during the war and not really having any idea what to do with it.

"GRANDMOTHER YOU EFFIN TROLL!" Steph yelled, laughing before continuing on with the letter.

'You're also probably wondering who are going to have as a friend, apart from Barnaby, who is a bit younger as me as I write this. (Pity. I really would've loved to be at least his age.) Well, don't worry. 

'Because I have that sorted.

'Go to the shops down the road, find one that says 'Celebrity Units', and tell the wo/man at the counter that you are Stephanie Mills. S/he will get you to sign something and after that, you'll be asked to leave. 

'And if you're wondering why, you'll see. Just wait three days after that, and you'll understand.

'Love from your dearest old woman,

'Maddy B.

'P.S. I also have some photos of me when I was younger. Looking back now, you look like me, except from those eyes of yours. I don't want you to see me as an old lady anymore. I'd love you to at least remember your old lady as a teenager and a baby. Please? It would make me so happy up there.

'P.P.S. Call me Maddy. It's more comfortable for me, even though it is an alibi.'

At the end of the letter, Steph was giggling her head off. Of course her 'old woman' had to put in her classic humor. She then pulled out the photos from the envelope.

Good glove, Maddy was right. She did look like a young Steph when she was 13. 

Steph smiled. "Barnaby? Is it possible to arrange some transport to the 'Celebrity Units' shop down the road?"

"Will do Stephanie. Just at least get into some cleaner clothing." Barnaby answered back on what seemed to be a link-phone. Ooh yeeah. Real epic right now.

She sighed. "Thanks Barnaby." And with that, she jumped into the massive wardrobe that was now hers.