Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

46. Truth is Flexible

Julia

The rain had finally stopped, thank God, silencing that incessant pitter-patter upon the roof. Fry wandered around the kitchen, sniffing the floor for any tidbits that might have fallen from the counter, while my little feathered screwball climbed all over my shoulders and back, keeping me from fully focusing on dinner. For the first time in a long while, I was truly alone in the house. And with this solitude, came a funny sort of peace.

It was a funny peace, in that it felt unnatural. It felt empty. I did have music playing, mind you; the one KC and the Sunshine Band vinyl was spinning around on the downstairs turntable (I could take no chances; C had very likely heard enough go on within these four walls, the old busybody bastard), but it didn't make much of a difference.

I didn't mind too much, though. Soon my boys would be home, and restore the abundant energy they both radiated. I smiled a little.

Well, one of them is mine anyway, I corrected myself, face falling again. Tomorrow they're sending the other one back. It's for the best, after all- and this has always been the plan. Freddie's got to go. He doesn't belong to me- never did- and he doesn't belong here.

Perhaps another sip of my drink would clear my throat of that new, tight lump inside it. Just before I could bring it to my lips, however, I stopped and looked at my left hand. In it I held not only my already half-downed second cocktail (peach vodka and pineapple juice, for those who are curious), but between two of its fingers smoldered yet another cigarette. In spite of myself, I giggled. For I couldn't help but recall how Freddie would do something quite similar during interviews in the eighties- that is, alternate almost methodically between a sip of alcohol and a drag of a cigarette while the same old questions were posed at him.

But he only did that in order to occupy his hands, to keep from sitting too still for too long, I said to myself. For me, though, this is a cope mechanism. And all because I passed up my happy pill yet again- or rather, Freddie talked me out of it.

Such an idiotic thing to do, to let him deny me my defenses, especially today. Two days without my "blue pill," as Freddie called it- and now, there I stood, a pathetic, unhappy creature that was very rapidly losing control of her emotions. By God, I almost broke down in tears in front of Stuart, Ling, and the whole damn "rescue party" when they stopped by earlier. And it didn't help that I kept inadvertently reliving that impulsive moment between us. I could still feel his lips caressing mine, his hands feeling my body, that fire in his eyes- that hungry, delicious fire...

Just then, my new cell phone struck up a tinny generic trill. A bit unsteadily, I stepped away from the cutlets I'd been seasoning, snatched it off the counter. "Uh- Hello?"

A warm, familiar, woman's voice greeeted me. "Hi, Goose!"

"Oh, hi, Mom," I crooned in my best Tommy Wiseau, cracking myself up in the process. It felt good to laugh, even if deep down my balloon was on the verge of a violent pop.

Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm great, things have just been, uh- it's been a kind of crazy week, that's all." Since it was my mother, I felt safe enough to carry on this conversation in the house; C very likely wouldn't have any interest in hearing us discuss politics or Danny's school shenanigans. "How's Dad?"

"He's doing fine, we've just been straightening up around the place today. Can't wait to see you and the boy next week."

I smiled, brushing a jealous Farnsie away from the phone's speaker, setting him to march over to my other side. "Thank you, I'm excited too."

"What are you up to?"

"Just cooking some dinner. Danny's coming back from rehearsal, should be home before long."