It was strange, waking up alone. What was stranger still was the lack of any kind of phone call from Roger. Every time he reached for the phone, something stopped him. The little voice in the back of his mind halted him, reminded him that he really had nothing to say. Because Adeline was right. John hadn't pushed Veronica aside for Queen, Brian actually called Cecelia when he was going to be home late, and he even asked to have their kids put on the phone. Even the word 'kids' going through Roger's mind made him feel ill. But he pushed it all into the corners of his mind, the looming Live Aid concert taking all of his focus.
One afternoon, a few days before the concert, the band was rehearsing in an empty church upon Freddie's request. The acoustics inside gave the room a certain type of depth, and the sound bouncing off of the walls gave the impression of an echoing stadium. Roger sat behind his drums, keeping the time as Brian and John played their own chords, and Freddie sang, much to everyone's surprise, out of tune. When he pulled the microphone away from his face, John turned to Brian, jerking his hand across his throat.
"Sorry," Freddie started, "I sound like shit. You all are lovely, you sound good. Been a while. My throat feels like a vulture's crotch," he said as the others tucked their instruments away, and Roger came out from behind the drums.
"We still got a week," Roger said, chuckling a bit.
"We'll get there," John agreed.
"Yeah, we're at a good place, Fred. You just need a bit of rest, that's all," Brian said as he adjusted the Red Special in its stand.
"Yeah." Freddie nodded.
"Get a drink, Rog?" John asked.
"Yeah, there's a nice little pub down the road, actually."
"Can I come?" Brian asked, smiling a bit.
"We're just an exclusive..." John teased.
"No, of course not. Invite only," Roger muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets. Another evening out with the others, yet Adeline was only one phone call away. She'd left Abigail's number pinned up near the phone, but he hadn't touched it. Not once in the weeks she'd been away. But she hadn't called him either. Yet he found himself wondering if she was smiling at that moment, maybe even laughing. Maybe she and Abigail were out walking around, and he'd bump into her while going for drinks.
"Before you leave... Could I have a second?" Freddie asked, turning around and snapping Roger out of his thoughts, Adeline's smiling face vanishing from his mind.
Yeah, what's up?" Roger asked.
"I've got it."
The other stood in silence for only a moment, and all eyes were on Freddie.
"Got what?" John asked.
"AIDS. I wanted you to hear it from me."
"Fred, I'm so sorry," Brian said quietly.
"Brian, stop. Don't. For right now... it's between us. All right, just us. So, please, if any of you fuss about it or frown about it, or, worst of all, if you bore me with your sympathy, that's just seconds wasted. Seconds that could be used making music, which is all I want to do with the time I have left. I don't have time to be their victim, their AIDS poster boy, their cautionary tale. No, I decide who I am. I'm going to be what I was born to be. A performer... who gives the people what they want."
John, Roger, and Brian all blinked back tears as they listened to their friend, Live Aid forgotten.
"Touch of the heavens," Freddie said as he raised his finger to the sky. "Freddie fucking Mercury."
"You're a legend, Fred," Roger said softly.
"You're bloody right I am. We're all legends. But you're right, I am a legend," Freddie said as the others chuckled. "Now, you give me a chance to get my bitchy little vocal chords in order, and we'll go punch a hole through the roof of that stadium."
"Actually, Wembley doesn't have a roof," John said, and the four of them laughed quietly.
"All right," Freddie said.
"No, he's right. It doesn't," Brian agreed.
"Then we'll punch a hole in the sky." Freddie stepped to his friends, and they all embraced, rubbing each other's backs and patting their shoulders.
"Now, even though you're crying like three little girls, I still love you," Freddie said. "All right, enough of this."
"All right," Roger agreed.
"Drink?" Brian asked.
"Yes!
"Or ten," John offered. The four of them moved towards the door, but Roger stopped dead in his tracks.
"Rog? Is something wrong?" Brian asked, setting a hand on his shoulder.
"Addy. Should we... should we tell her?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets while looking down at his shoes.
"Well, um, when was the last time you, er, spoke to her?" John asked.
"The day she... the day she left."
"Lady killer, thy name is Roger," John muttered, earning a glare from the drummer.
"I just... I don't know what to say. It's been weeks. And to call her with bad news... I couldn't do that to her," he said, then looked up as Freddie set his hand on his shoulder.
"Give me the number then, darling. I'll call her."
***
Adeline was sitting in Abigail's living room, her cousin's cat curled up on her lap. She was watching as the sun began to set, and a shaky sigh left her lips. She absentmindedly stroked the cat's fur, scratched behind his ears, and leaned back, letting her eyes flutter shut. In the kitchen, the phone rang, but neither Adeline nor the cat moved. She heard Abigail pick up the phone and was about to doze off, but then she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Hm?" she mumbled, opening one eye.
"Phone for you," Abigail said, handing it over.
"Do I have to?"
"You do. It's important."
Huffing, Adeline took the phone with hand as her cousin lifted the cat from her lap. The two shared a look before Abigail left the room, and Adeline lifted herself out of the chair.
"Hello? Roger?" Adeline asked, biting her lip gently.
"Not quite, Addy, dear," Freddie said on the other end.
"Oh! Sorry about that, Fred. I just... Wait, how did you get this number?"
"Dear Rog let me have it so I could speak to you."
Adeline paused, her jaw clenching for a moment as she walked to one of the arched windows in her cousin's living room.
"So he gave you the number, but didn't bother to call it himself. Such a gentleman," she muttered.
"We can discuss his romantic shortcomings later, I promise. But first, I do have some news to share with you."
"All right, I'm sorry for jumping down your throat about it. What is it that you want to tell me?"
"I'm sick, Adeline."
"Sick? What do you mean, sick?"
"It's AIDS."
Adeline lowered herself onto the bench by the window, leaning her head against the glass. On the other end, Freddie was quiet, and she could hear shuffling around, like he was pacing.
"Freddie, I'm so sorry," she said softly, and she felt the tip of her nose tingle.
"Oh, don't be, darling. Like I told the others, don't bore me with the sympathy. Just allow me to spend my remaining time doing what I love, and surrounding myself with the people I love," he said, and though she knew he couldn't see it, Adeline nodded.
"You're right," she said, attempting to wipe gathering tears from her eyes.
"I know I am. But to follow up this news, I have a proposition for you."
"Oh? You do?"
"I want you to come see us perform at Live Aid."
Adeline's eyes widened, and she stood from the bench slowly. She turned to look out of the window, and she could feel her heart pound against her ribs.
"You want me to come and see you? There? At Wembley? In person?"
Freddie laughed. "Yes, darling. I can arrange to have someone pick you up, and you'd be able to join my other guests along the sidelines."
"Your other guests? Who might they be?"
"Mary, her husband David, and I'm hoping another... friend of mine will join us."
Adeline nodded again. "Right. Fred, look, I appreciate the offer, but I've been going through a few things at the moment, and I just got word from my doctor that I shouldn't do anything too, you know, outlandish."
"Addy, you and I both know this is the opportunity of a lifetime. And I know it would mean the world to Roger if you came."
"If it means so much to him, why didn't he call and ask?"
"Because he's an idiot. We've been over this."
"Fred."
Freddie sighed. "He doesn't know what to say to you. We talked about it at dinner tonight. And I promised him I'd give you a ring and invite you to see us."
Adeline bit her lip gently and stepped away from the window. With a hand in her hair, she paced around the room, stopping every few seconds to look back outside at the fading sunlight.
"Addy? Are you still there, darling?"
"Yes, I'm still here. Just thinking, that's all."
"I hate to rush you, but I do need an answer."
"I know. So my answer is yes. But on one condition."
"Name your terms."
Adeline smiled to herself. "You don't tell the others. Especially Roger. I want to see the looks on their faces at the end of your set."
"Done and done. Now go get yourself some rest. Especially if the doctor recommended it."
"I will. Have a good night, Freddie. And thank you for the invitation."
"You're very welcome. Good night, Adeline."
The line clicked and went dead, and Adeline hung the phone back up in the kitchen. She walked to her cousin's bedroom, knocking on the door with two knuckles.
"Come in!" Abigail called. Adeline pushed the door open, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms.
"You know how the doctor said to take it easy for the next few weeks? For my blood pressure?" Adeline asked.
"Oh, yeah. Oh, no," Abigail said. "What are you doing to fuck it up?"
"I'm going to Live Aid."