Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 46

It had taken a solid week for the reality of it all to kick in for Bernie. And she meant all of it. First, she'd unwittingly moved in with her manipulative ex-lover as her landlord, then she had fallen and broken her ankle, which perhaps wasn't an accident? And then, once she'd recovered, the band left her for six weeks whilst she did her police exams. She'd passed with flying colours, got sexually assaulted by said landlord and now she was in the middle of Wales with one of Britain's biggest rising rock bands, one of whom she was lifelong best friends with and another she definitely had a crush on. How had it come to this? Who had sealed this fate for her? She had no idea, but she wanted a refund.

In that week of intense realisation, she had also gotten used to life at Rockfield with the rest of Queen and, of course, who could forget, Roger. She'd even gotten used to his gentle occasional snoring, which provided as a good metronome to fall asleep to in the event that she woke up in the night, which was often, nightmares of Holden piercing through her peacefulness almost nightly.

On this particular afternoon, the band were all doing their own thing and Bernie was left to her own devices. Freddie was inside playing the piano and Roger and Brian were playing a lame game of badminton out in the courtyard. John, however, was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Bernie had just finished washing and drying her hair and came out to find out what the commotion was all about. From the open bathroom window, the muffled sounds of a piano was drifted in by the wind, followed by swearing and Brian telling Roger to stop swearing.

"You two are just as shit at that as the other," she stood on the outskirts of the game, weight on one hip and arms crossed. Her hair flowed silkily down to her waist, an unbuttoned raglan polo shirt tucked into high-waisted bootcut jeans; accentuating her curves. Training had seen to her envious figure, it hadn't come naturally to her. Both men turned their heads and in perfect synchronisation, they looked her up and down. "Both got a good eye full?" She was very much used to Roger eyeing her up, but never Brian.

"That colour doesn't suit you," Brian declared matter of factly, thrusting his racket into Bernie's hands. "I'm going to find Deacy, kick Roger's arse for me." And then he disappeared into the house.

"Guess it's just you and me...again. I've been given instruction to beat you." Adjusting her stance, she stood in an able racketing position.

"You can beat me anytime, sweetheart," Roger smirked, twirling his blue racket round his fingers cockily in the same way he did with his drumsticks. Except the racket was a little more top-heavy, so he struggled to keep it going round.

"Just chuck it over, Taylor."

"Here's my cock!" Roger yelled and whacked the shuttlecock in Bernie's direction, but she was nowhere near hitting it as she was doubled over in stitches. Her sudden shrieks of laughter echoed around the yard. It felt so good to be laughing properly again. Just then, Brian's head poked out the kitchen window and she was surprised he could fit both his curls and his head through that little gap.

"I heard that. Don't go anywhere," the window snapped shut and Brian's curls disappeared behind the glass.

Bernie laughed herself out and stood upright again, regaining composure. "I kinda wanna leave now, just to spite him." Smiling genuinely for the first time in what felt like forever, she peered in the direction of the stables, where all five horses had free roam of the paddock. Eyes lighting up with an idea, she moved towards the only horse left sitting in its stable. He was a white stallion with grey spots down his muzzle that looked like freckles and the most determined eyes Bernie had ever seen on a horse. His name was Carter and Kingsley had told her all about the horse's social nature as she'd expressed an interest in the stables earlier in the week.

"You're not thinking...." Roger's eyes widened with surprise that Bernie was capable of such a rebellious idea. But before he could try and change her mind, she was in the tack room where Freddie was sat at a piano, gathering all the equipment to tack up Carter ready for a ride out.

"Hi Freddie, that sounds great, bye Freddie," Freddie didn't even have time to get a word in edgeways as Bernie was in and out, just like that.

"Thanks, it's called Bo-" but she was gone.

Back out in the yard, she coaxed Carter out of the stable and securely fastened him into the riding equipment. "Good boy," she stroked his soft white mane.

"You scare me sometimes, you know," Roger approached the stallion with trepidation. He'd since grown out of his countrified mannerisms, which also involved a lack of confidence around horses. He'd gone riding as a child, but hadn't gone near a horse in almost a decade, let alone on one.

"Too right I do. You coming?"

"... Go on then, fuck it." Bernie was already on the horse and she helped him clamber on the saddle behind her. "Room for two?" He joked, adjusting his placement.

"Hold on," she instructed and he complied without further question. He put his arms securely around her waist and held on. Oddly, it made Bernie feel more safe knowing that Roger was safely holding into her. It also felt good to have his arms around her, even it it was for cautionary purposes. Before she told Carter to go, she turned to Roger and warned: "if you get a stiffy, I'm leaving you in a ditch and setting Brian off on you, got it?"

"Got it..." no promises, he re-answered in his head, focusing on the surroundings and not the proximity between himself and Bernie, just to be on the safer side.

And then they were off, Carter broke into a reluctant canter to put some sharpish distance between them and the yard before Brian came back from his finding-John endeavour. The white stallion was expertly trained and listened to every word and movement Bernie made after she'd persuaded him with sugar cubes that she's taken from the kitchen. She had no idea where she was going, but that wasn't an issue as Carter definitely did. By memory, he guided them down a quiet dirt track, the summer sun shining through the trees and making Bernie's hair shine more amber than ever before. Roger longed to look into her beautiful green eyes under the sun in this setting, but instead he enjoyed what he could see, which was his arms around her and the scenery this part of Wales had to offer.

And Wales did not disappoint. In the distance, across the luscious fields were the smooth outline of mountains on the horizon line. Neither Roger nor Bernie were sure how long Carter trotted merrily along for before stopping by an open patch of grass overlooking the river that flowed rhythmically. As they dismounted, Bernie couldn't help but feel there was something awfully romantic about secretly running off together on a beautiful, strong horse and stopping to sit by a sunlit river whilst said horse drank from said river.

18/2/23