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

47. Ain't No Hill High Enough

Someone tapped my shoulder, rousing me from my half-slumber.  I shifted and moaned softly, "Hm?"

"Aren't you traveling to Bath?" they whispered.

I nodded, straightening up on the bench. "Yeah..."

They pointed.  "There's your bus."

I leapt to my feet, stifling a yawn.  Sure enough, there was my ride, a long red British bus, destination Bath.  Climbing aboard the sparsely filled bus, I paid the driver and found a seat by the window.  I set my backpack in my lap, arms wrapped tightly round it.  A two hour ride lay ahead of me, and I intended to use it exclusively for sleep.  Since the Android was running low on power, I decided I would brave the dream, despite its horrors and sick, wretched contents.  And I didn't just mean the Freddie part.

Oh, cut it out, me, I told myself wearily.  It's five o'clock in the morning, dammit- I mean darn it.  If I'm going to join an abbey, I'd better shed the wayward habits I've acquired while in his presence.  If I can even get to all of them.  God, what he's done to me.

Still, I knew I ought to put an end to thoughts of him, especially those of a bitter, injured nature.  Not only because I needed to put my own troubled mind at ease.  Not only because a future nun couldn't afford to be so acerbic.  But because mainly, deep down inside, I was already missing him. 

I missed a stone-hearted, foul-mouthed, sex-crazed hedonist.  It turned my stomach, but it was true. 

I had had so much fun at the start, and the memories made were priceless. We had been friends, for a while. And friends we could have stayed, if only things hadn't taken such a physical turn. Something that had begun in a much more chaste, platonic vein, now heavily slathered with sensuality and lust. For I still wanted him- and I knew that, since I yet again hadn't fully complied, he likely still wanted me.

But I couldn't help the fact that I needed him.  It wasn't my fault.  Freddie was so naturally addictive.  I knew he wouldn't miss me, at least not for very long; he'd go back to Joe, or Minsy, or whoever.  It's Joe right now, I think.  Freddie's lovers transition like phases of the moon.  Minsy's a waning crescent, Joe's a waxing gibbous.  I'm sure Brian the Space Brain would agree- if he cared.

Despite my thoughts, I would have given a lot right then to hear him laugh, and feel his hand close over mine, and say something ridiculous. 

I glanced across the aisle at a wispy little man wringing his hands and hunching against the window.  I could already hear Freddie's whispery sarcasm.  Something like, "Look at that poor shivering mouse over there.  That's what you become when you cut and run every time Life comes around and knocks you for six."

I blinked.  Automatically I wondered to myself, Aren't I cutting and running now?  Aren't I resigning myself to be a mouse?

But I didn't cut and run all the time.  I had been pretty darn game for close to two weeks.  This was only my second solo venture- and this time, I intended to do something with it, make it count.  I couldn't keep waiting on the Relic, and I refused to pleasure Freddie simply to get my hands on the fake Passport.  Did I have a choice?  Yes, I did.  And I'd made it.

I've chosen to be a mouse.  Not standing out, not sticking out.  Just melting into the background.  That's what I claimed to want.  I ought to be happy.  What's worse, a mundane mouse, or a kept kitten?

With a sad sigh, I stared out the window while the last few passengers boarded.  It wasn't really raining anymore, but there was still a muggy mistiness in the air.  My breath fogged up the glass; I traced the letters "H E L P" backwards so that it could be read from outside, and a little ugly face with an absurd grin right underneath.  I laughed excessively at my own immaturity, which was a telltale symptom of my dangerous state- tired, hungry, and upset.