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

16. Happy Accidents and Cold Feet

Julia

"There's my car," I said, breaking the ice cold silence. "Can you pull over a minute please, let me transfer my stuff into the trunk?"

After he made sure he was far enough over that other cars could still edge by, Stuart brought the Benz to a stop. I hopped out as soon as the wheels were still, gathered my goodies, and casually strolled toward my little red sedan. I could almost see Stuart's thumbs drumming impatiently upon the steering wheel, hear him muttering to himself about how I always took "my own sweet time". As far as I was concerned, however, he could wait. I had spent all day working off of his time table rather than mine, so I would make the most of this thirty second breather whether he liked it or not.

I shoved the spoils of my last-minute Christmas hunt toward the back of the trunk. Before I closed it, however, I crouched down behind the trunk cover, drew the smallest bag from among the pile, and pulled out an even smaller, unassuming brown parcel. I rolled the box back and forth in my hands, allowing myself a foolish little grin.

Foolish, because I knew that in the long run he would get little to no use out of it, considering (unless something else crazy happened) he was due to leave us tonight. But a gift was a gift- and one I was really rather proud of, in how I managed to sneak it among the rest without Stuart so much as raising an eyebrow. Delivering it to Freddie would be the greatest miracle, undoubtedly. I couldn't even be in the same room with him anymore without jeopardizing his safety. Nevertheless, if he and John had managed to stay under the radar all day -and they must have, because I would have been the first alerted had one of the rats picked Freddie up and sent him home- then there was hope we'd find another dark, hidden corner in which to exchange kisses, gifts, and goodbyes.

I hope you like it, I sighed sadly. Maybe since it's your birthday over there, they'll let you bring it along. I know you can't keep your memories, but maybe they'll allow this much. My God, they ought to at least grant you something to take home. It's Christmas, for heaven's sake. It's a time of giving, not taking; at least, that's what it's supposed to be.

Suddenly I heard Stuart's door slam. Heart pounding, I threw the box back into the bag and pulled the trunk shut. And just in time, too. Not two seconds later, Mr. Wonderful came around to meet me, hands on hips.

"Problem?" he asked.

I pushed my hair out of my face. "No, Stuart, there's no problem."

Stuart's eyes drifted down to my hands, I assume to check and make sure I hadn't been texting any Persian musicians just now. Alas, they hung limp and empty at my sides, my phone still sitting quietly in my purse, which I had left in the Benz floorboards as an act of good faith.

With a dubious huff, then, Stuart took my arm. "Then come on, before all the spaces in this garage get taken."

Another window opened. "Here, why don't you go on ahead and park," I suggested, "I'll go on into the church and scope out a good spot."

"Jules, it's a Christmas program, not a Star Wars red carpet premiere. There's going to be places to sit."

"But it'll save you time- and besides, if you're so worried about parking filling up, I'd assume it would also apply to the actual seating in the sanc-"

"That's a risk I am willing to take," Stuart informed me, adding dryly, "but I appreciate that completely innocuous, and in no way self-serving, thought, just the same. Now, shall we?"

Biting my tongue, I made myself slide back into the passenger seat. Six hours. Six whole hours, a quarter of a day, I had been alone with this man, with only a waiter and the occasional salesperson to soften the blows. Unfortunately, such interventions were relatively few and far-between- and coupled with the hysteria he unleashed any time I dared pull my phone out of my purse, I had reached Stuart saturation point.