A Man For All Seasons (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

12. Tightrope

Julia

"You know," Stuart whispered into my ear, "I think I've seen more of you this last week than I have in the past three months."

I stared blankly at the back row of the choir. "Is that right?"

"I think so."

"Well," I hummed. "How about that."

When I didn't say anything else, Stuart folded himself back up against the pew, arms crossed. As for me, I silently prayed that John would return from escorting Danny to Sunday school and rejoin me in purgatory. "Misery loves company," they say, after all.

I did not hear a single word of the sermon delivered at church that morning. For Dr. Preus, my self-appointed parole officer, was perched so close to me he was practically in my lap, his mere presence suffocating any possible reflection over peace on Earth and good will toward men. Not since 7 a.m., when he showed up at our door before Danny could even rub the sleep out of his eyes (as he was the only one of us who got a good night's rest), had Stuart been anywhere that was not within earshot.

Now I must confess, I was pretty stunned at how well Stuart took it when John shuffled out of my room in his pajamas that morning. On one hand, it made sense, for he and the team surely must have noticed John running around the mall with Freddie and Danny. But I had certainly expected a more violent reaction than a few neutral questions regarding what he was doing in my house, and how he had happened to get there at all. John was cooperative, however, and gave Stuart no reason to suspect he was telling anything other than the truth.

Honestly, John was probably in more trouble with Veronica than anyone else at the moment. She had begun insisting that he get his bottom on the very next flight to London and stop imposing on me and Danny. Besides, I had overhead her tell him, celebrating Christmas with the family was much more fulfilling than waiting around for a fellow who looked like an old friend to appear. As it turned out, John had told his family nothing about the last twenty-four hours, certainly nothing that pertained to Freddie. Meeting him, talking with him, losing him at the mall; on all of these John had kept silent.

I believed it was a dangerous move, and I told him as much while I poured him his first cup of tea. But he only answered, "Well, someone's got to keep their mouth shut about something around here, it might as well be me."

Were I of a hotter, more impulsive temperament, I might have splashed that scalding tea all over his shirt and reminded him that it was he and not I who had told Freddie what I used to call myself- a word so revolting that Freddie literally took off running as soon as John uttered it.

Alas, our nerves were raw enough already. Furthermore, while the rest of the world could (and did) pass very vocal judgment on my actions, it was not my privilege to reciprocate. Instead, I decided to shift the target to Stuart, who sat leering at the two of us from the kitchen table.

"He looks like a gargoyle," I mouthed, so as not to be heard over Andy Williams' "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." It was a remark that might have slipped totally under the radar, had John not been so foolish as to actually chuckle at it.

Stuart frowned. "What's so funny, Jules?"

"Nothing," I had yawned. "We're just- in a really, really great mood today. Aren't we, John?"

John nodded, rubbing his nose. "Oh, yeah. I'm delirious with joy."

I turned to Danny. "What about you, Daniel-san? Are you bouncing off the walls?"

Despite his mountain of worries, that kid didn't miss a beat. He set down his English muffin, rested his chin in his hands, and in a lifeless, robotic voice, he droned, "I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky like a tiger defying the laws of gravity."