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

Birdman's Eye View: Lovebirds and Lovecats

As I bid good night to Julia, I try to be just a little more detached than I really would prefer to be. I don't want her to know I see how fragile she looks. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest while she perches on the comfy chair, a weak smile on her lips. The poor girl's so wan, and her eyes are brimming with unhappiness.

Granted, Julia's in much better condition than she was two hours ago, but that wouldn't be a hard transition. Two hours ago she was disintegrating. At least she's holding herself together better. Though it's their private matter, I wonder what happened. I can't ask, though. That's too much information, and I know more than enough already anyhow. But one thing is sure: Miss Samuels is hurting inside- and being the sort of girl who has had the luxury of never having really been hurt before, there's no telling what shape her heart is in.

Well, what do you know, I think to myself as I walk down the hall. She really is Sammy. Wonder if I should have told her that she's more or less found her way into a song of mine...

Veronica is under the covers, waiting for me. I undress for bed, then slip in beside her.

"She'll be all right," I whisper confidently.

"Did you give her the phone-thing?" she asks. "The Relic?"

"Not yet. I was going to let Freddie do the honors." I turn out the lamp and settle in, putting my arms around my wife. "He smashed it, he can return it."

"You're a very nice man," she murmurs with a smile.

I walk my fingers up her bare arm and growl against her neck, "Sometimes..."

With a little giggle she turns over and reaches for me. Veronica doesn't have to do much to arouse me- and I never have to work too hard to get her in the mood. It's always been this way, and I love it. More specifically, I love her.

That's the thing about touring. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not Freddie. That man was born on the stage. He lives to perform, and performs to live. And I can understand, to a degree. The rush of attention, the heat of the spotlights, the power of the applause- it's all very nice, and thrilling while it lasts. But more than the others, I see Queen as a job- and tours are basically business trips, except they last over two months at a time- and there's a lot more glitter and alcohol. Tours also mean I'm too far away from her, and they always seem to come around too quickly, so I savor every moment my wife and I are together.

To have someone you care that much about- it's a true gift.

We are just finishing making love when I hear the front door open and close.

"There she goes," I murmur, still a little breathless.

"Mmmm..." my wife sighs. "Wonder where..."

"She's going to be a nun," I say softly. "At least, that's my understanding."

Veronica frowns. "She told you that?"

"She said she was going to go to Bath, there's an abbey there. I dunno, do nuns live in abbeys?"

"Not anymore, I don't think. Perhaps. What's she want to be a nun for?"

I shrug, running my hand along the curve of her body. "People will do crazy things to feel safe."

"But what about the Relic?"

"What about it?"

"Well, you could have given it to her, and then she wouldn't feel like she had to go be a nun."

"Freddie would have my head if I did that. I promised him he'd be the one."

That, Veronica understands perfectly. She knows Freddie well, having been the wife of Queen's bass player for two and a half years- and she's quite acquainted with his temper.