FUTILE MOVEMENTS (VOLUME IV)

Part 23-"So Daisy. What happened to you....."

Waking with Daisy felt surreal.

Freddie kept expecting it all to be a dream, but it had been a week since her return and each morning there she was.

Outwardly, Daisy appeared to be coping, but her lack of communication and vagueness was concerning to everyone, particularly to her father James, who was convinced that she was heading for a breakdown.

Wanting to be supportive but not smother her, Freddie tried to get her back into some kind of routine and involve her in the bands upcoming tour which would take place in four months time.

The press had been, surprisingly, supportive of Daisy's return and despite Queen's PR team expecting the media to cash in on photos of Daisy and Freddie, they had been respectful and kept their distance.

Daisy woke each morning with a grateful smile, which grew further each time she saw Freddie.

"Good morning" she greeted as she came out of the bedroom and spotted Freddie in the kitchen attempting to clean a frypan.

"Good morning my love" he put the pan down and opened his arms wide for her.

She settled into his warm chest, as her wrapped himself around her, kissing her head.

There was no better place than Freddie Mercury's arms. He was always the perfect temperature, the perfect firmness, and smelt incredible.

Daisy rubbed his bicep while gently squeezing it "I was thinking" she began "maybe we should...I mean if you want....start wedding planning"

Freddie had been thinking the same since she returned, but worried that he would be rushing her.

"Is that something you're ready for?" He asked as he leaned back to see her face.

"I genuinely can't think of anything I want more Freddie. While I was....away from you, I couldn't think of anything else than wanting to be with you, starting a family....I want to start living Freddie"

                                   ********

James carefully looked around before opening the rusty gates of a run down factory in Leeds.

Walking across the yard, he pulled his jacket together as a gust of cold wind blew towards him, along with it the dust which had settled on the old machinery.

"Fucking shit" he cursed to himself as he tried pushing the factory door, before using his body weight to force it open.

Inside it was quiet. Not a sound could be heard. The tin roof squeaked outside, echoing above his head.

A dirty, once white, door ahead of him was locked with a shiny new pad-lock. He inserted and turned the key, popping the it open smoothly. He felt his hand around, as he opened the door for the light switch then headed down a flight of stairs.

The old lights flickered before staying lit continuously. The corridor began to warm up as he headed down further.

"Hello hello" he called out loudly.

"Help meeeeee!" Came a reply.

"Not likely matey" he chuckled to himself.

Removing a gun from the rim of his pants, he reached a metallic door which had been freshly bolted to the doorframe. It smelt like clean iron.

Opening it, he entered a room which barely gave enough space to even be classified liveable.

"How's my favourite prisoner going?" James cheerfully greeted.