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

19. Getting In That Sinking Feeling

My eyes closed, and my subconscious sent me again to the mist.  Once more that shadow approached me, stood waiting for my move.  My hands were still bound together, but this time I moved closer to the shadow.  I wanted to know who I was dealing with. 

The shadow put its hand out to me.  I came ever closer, until the fog was clear enough that I could see its face.  And I wasn't altogether shocked to discover it was Freddie.  He kept holding out his hand, but I raised my tied wrists, and shook my head.  Without a word, he reached out his other hand, which held something.  He grinned condescendingly, and I gasped. 

It was the Relic.

On reflex I lunged for it, but he thrust his hand back behind him, leaving only his free hand outstretched.  The meaning was obvious: if you want out of here, come with me.

So, not as reluctantly as I might have yesterday, I put my hands out.  With his open hand, Freddie touched my wrists, and the cords fell away.  Then he seized my arm, and started shaking it violently.  I tried flapping my other hand at him, but he wouldn't stop.  Then I heard his voice, breathless and excited:

"Evie, wake up!  Hey!"

Slowly the swirling dreamscape evaporated and I was lying in bed, being jostled around.  But the voice was still there.  "Come on, darling!  It's important!"

I pried open my eyes to see another silhouette above me, but I knew who belonged to this one.  Freddie was sitting on my bed, shaking my shoulder.

"Wh-what's wrong?"  I stammered.

"Nothing, you silly, just get up!  We have work to do!"

"Hol' it, hol' it, what time...?"

"Oh, that doesn't matter, dear."

But I still reached for my Android, now fully charged and lying face-down on my nightstand.  I was too zonked to realize what might come of this, but I looked at the lit up screen.  "Freddie, it's three fourteen, are you mad?"

He was stunned.  "Hey it's that thing!  How'd it-?"

"Magic Mirror knows all," I mumbled.  I slid it under the covers.  "Go to bed, Freddie, I can smell the vodka."

"You're not getting up?" Freddie said.

"Not for another four hours.  Go back to your friends, they need you.  Bye bye."  I put my head under the pillow and pulled the sheets over it.

Which was a mistake.

Two seconds later, Freddie tore back the covers and threw away the pillow. 

I squealed, "You dog!"  (That I suppose was my stock response to anything he did that I wasn't ready for- so I said it a lot.) 

I sat up, scrambled to pull the covers back over me.  I was in my lacy, dark green nightgown Freddie picked out for me- one I had particularly protested because it was so sheer- and I figured he'd seen enough of me to last the rest of my life.  But again, I was outwitted.  As soon as I'd lifted from the bed, Freddie scooped me up round my waist and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  As if he did this sort of thing every day at three fricking o' clock in the morning, he calmly marched us down the stairs while I slapped his backside. 

"Now, now, dear, don't get ahead of yourself," he cooed.  "We'll do spankings later, hm?"

I didn't have it in me to be politely embarrassed; I laughed tiredly.  "Why do I even bother."

"Good question.  Heave, ho!"  He threw me down onto the sofa and put out his hand to help me to my feet.  Ah, sweet Freddie.  So good at putting me in weird positions, then playing the cavalier gent to get me out of them.  I was awake now.