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

Birdman's Eye View: It's About Faith (Updated)

(Sal here. SO SORRY! Wattpad was being weird, and wouldn't save the changes I made this morning, so very quickly I rewrote everything and deleted the first version of this chapter. Here's the new and improved B.E.V., which will make much more sense I hope.

Also, Julia's not incapacitated again or anything, but she is in a bit of a daze. That's why I'm having John tell this part of the story. And there's very important things that happen here that she would probably forget to mention. So, take it away, Deaks...)

Freddie emerges from the hall, humming a little something under his breath. His eyes scan the parlor. "Where's Julia?"

"Hm?" I look up. For I didn't even notice she had disappeared until now, when Freddie mentions it. My mind is still set on a little tune that's been developing ever since I opened that silly fortune cookie. I'm not drunk, by the way, I'm just a little woozy. I've been officially drunk before, and on such occasions I was never this sentient; I'm sober enough to catch the difference.

There's Ray Charles, a personal favorite of mine (along with Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder- I do love those American blues and funky soul), coming from the dining room. I'm as English as Freddie is unpredictable, but I can't help swaying a little to his version of "America the Beautiful." Good is good under any circumstances.

Freddie hears it, too, but it has a different effect on him. His eyes narrow a little. Without warning he darts across the parlor out of sight. Behind me the music stops, and some other song by Sam and Dave replaces Ray. I almost protest, almost complain "Freddie, I was enjoying that!" but I don't. There's no point.

"Did anybody see where she went?" Freddie asks, his voice now harboring an edge of fear.

"She went down the hall," Rudy says, waving his hand.

"Oh, right," he nods, then sighs. "I swear, she's like the wind."

With that, Freddie sits back down on the sofa and takes one more sip of wine. Not to be over-analytical, but he seems tense all of a sudden. His fingers drum anxiously against his knee, and he looks over his shoulder as if he's waiting for Julia to stroll back in at any second.

"I can go get her," I offer as I rise slowly to my feet.

"No, John, I'm just being a little paranoid, it's okay-"

"Not at all! I can at least go see what she's up to," I reply. "I'm curious now."

So I move a little clumsily down the hall, peer into the rooms there. When I check Robert's nursery, I see her silhouette against the corner thanks to his little nightlight. I tiptoe inside, but Julia doesn't notice. She's sitting quietly in the rocking chair, head in her hands, although from what I can see, she isn't crying. But there's nothing about her huddled form that implies she is happy. And only two minutes ago she was poking at Freddie about lucky numbers. My God, these two. Her emotions swing just as randomly as his.

"Julia?" I whisper.

She sits up. "Oh, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be-"

"It's fine, it's fine. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm all right."

Those words again. Now I know something's wrong. "That's not true, is it?"

Julia sighs. "No."

"Do tell, please."

But tonight, she won't coax the words out. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"John, if I can't tell him, then I can't tell you."

"Tell who? Freddie?"