A Man For All Seasons (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

31. Not Much Fun

Freddie

At last I turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into shadows. I put my hands behind my head and nestled into the pillow. As exhausted as I was, I couldn't help one little smile.

She actually called me back, I said to myself, still half trying to convince myself that had really, truly happened. She agreed to come along, even after how horrible I- today was. I just need to remember to let her know I haven't changed my mind.

I hadn't been exaggerating. Not once did I honestly ever conceive of Julia and Danny being absent for the rendezvous. And it wasn't just a matter of me wanting to show off my family or rekindle Julia's acquaintance with Brian and Roger, though those certainly were pieces of the puzzle.

I simply couldn't face them alone.

"But you weren't alone at all," I hear you cry. "What about John?"

To that, I can only respond that regrettably, "them" in this case referred to John as well. It was devastating enough to learn how Deacy and Miami had aged, but I took in each of them on an individual basis, which while still a heavy blow made it easier to recover from. But for the entire rest of Queen, three men who had lived so many more years than me and showed it, to confront me all at once with no one there to hold my hand? I mean, if I absolutely had to, I could, and would, give it my best go. But suffice it to say, that was the very definition of the worst case scenario.

I burrowed further under the covers, drawing a sigh when I glimpsed the empty space at my side where a soft, sleepy face should have laid. No cheeks to caress, no lips to kiss, no nose to nuzzle. Just a flat, pale pillow, reminding me how badly I had handled so much in the past two weeks.

"Sweet dreams, my stray kitten," I whispered.

And you are my stray kitten, no matter what anyone says- including me.

"Especially you," agreed a strange voice, coming to me so abruptly I couldn't tell whether I had heard them aloud or within my own head.

The words had barely registered when I found myself ankles deep in sand. I looked around. Vast white dunes stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions under a staggeringly blue sky. No doubt I was dreaming, but at the time I was caught in that limbo state where even the most logical conclusions do not cross the mind; as far as I knew then, I had literally been dropped right into the Sahara.

I spied a small group of people milling about in the distance. Four steps later, I stood among them. They did not acknowledge me, however, instead being too preoccupied with some invisible oddity further off. I peered closer at a couple of the faces nearest me, but none of them looked familiar.

Without warning, the whole group began applauding. Not a particularly enthusiastic clap, really, more of the polite, half-hearted kind you would earn by introducing yourself at an AA meeting.

"Never met someone that lives in the wind before!" one person remarked.

I frowned, confused, but before I could ask what he (I assume it was a he) meant, the voice from before spoke again. "I am the wind," it corrected him. "I soar with no wings. I sing with no voice. I see with no eyes."

Of course, that didn't clear anything up for me, especially the part about singing with no voice considering the same had spelled as much out for all of us that very instant, but everyone else seemed perfectly satisfied, letting out a collective, impressed "Ooo". Annoyed, I turned my back on them and started walking away. But I hadn't put two full paces between myself and the bizarre little group when a strong, cool breeze lifted me up, up, up, so that I felt closer to the sky than the desert in which I had been nervously digging my toes only seconds before.