In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

14. Hey, Mercurena

Look, I was excited, all right? It may not seem like anything to scream about to you, but let's remember please that in all the forty plus years since "We Will Rock You" came out, it's been on the lips of every sports enthusiast and the hearts of every competitive spirit, and the beat belongs to that song and that song only. And I was there. And so was Freddie. And so was John. And so were Mr. Clogs and Sneakers Guy- I mean, Brian and Roger (old habits die hard). And this is a story only I and fifteen other people can share.

When they finally let us go, I did a quick search through the control room. Of course, I came away empty-handed. Under any other circumstances I would have been terrified. But We Will Rock You weathered that storm and then some. I needed to get out of there, let off some steam.

I picked up my things and started out. Freddie caught me by the door, asked me if I wanted to stay and watch while he recorded the vocals.

In my heart I shouted "YES YES YES!" But I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from spazzing. Remember. Be impressed, but no wild fanatic outbursts. Save it for later. "Thank you, though. When can I expect you home?"

"Oh, not for another four hours or so. So that gives you plenty of time to go crazy."

"I don't get crazy."

"Uh-huh," he said, none-too-convinced. "So you don't dance and you don't get crazy and God frowns when you don't go to church. Right. Anything else?"

"Yes. I have to go. I'll see you in a few hours." This time I was the one delivering the hug- a quick one, not too tight, but a hug all the same.

"What? No goodbye kiss for me?" Roger said, crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes. "Here," I replied, and blew him a kiss. I knew that wasn't what he meant, but the stunned, I-must-be-losing-my-touch look on his face was well worth it. "Goodbye, John!"

"Bye," he called back. Sweet, sweet man.

I didn't say anything to Brian. I don't think he even noticed I'd left.

I hurried out for a cab, my feet barely touching the ground. By the time I'd come back to Freddie's flat, I was higher than the afternoon clouds. I ran inside and locked the door.

Silence. Oscar padded over and greeted me. Tiff gave me a cordial nod. Tom slept.

And I exploded.

"DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?" I shouted. "DID THAT JUST SERIOUSLY HAPPEN? OH MY GOD!" My voice rang against the walls, as if answering me that yes, that just happened.

I scooped Oscar up off the floor and didn't even sneeze. The adrenaline pumped too hard to accommodate my allergies today. I danced about the living room and into the kitchen. I'd never felt so absolutely high in my life.

I fixed myself a sandwich, gulped it down and called it an early dinner. I kept screaming at random intervals. I'm sure the neighbors were listening in, wondering what the heck a girl with Tourrette's was doing in Freddie's apartment.

Even Oscar seemed to ask, "Are you all right, Eve? Do I need to call somebody?"

Usually, after such a trip, I'd come down in a matter of minutes, but I only seemed to rise higher, like some overachieving hot air balloon. Some of it I believe was plain old anxiety; I hadn't forgotten I was trapped, perhaps with no way home. But mostly, of course, it was the fact that I was living every Queen fan's fantasy- and with the two slamming together, it was almost more than I could handle. I needed to release some of this energy. And fast. I was about to pop.