*MATURE CONTENT WARNING*

The Whitley Suite, The Ritz-Carlton , Atlanta, Georgia, 7th December 1977

"The doctors? But we just checked in after being on the road for god knows how long"

"I have to, Monica. I want my throat to be ready for tomorrow night. Jim [Beach] is already looking for a practise nearby" Freddie unwrapped his white zigzag scarf from his neck and hung it up on a wrack next to their hotel suite door.

"We just got in through the door" Monica lifted her pyjamas out of her suitcase on the floor to hang it on the radiator by the window.

"Well, eveything is best done sooner or later in rock and roll, otherwise I'll get nodes again" he switched the bathroom light on.

"Isn't there any time for rest? It looks downcast anyway" she saw a rain cloud in the distance over the city skyline, and wanted to dodge the shower that it carried.

"After we find a doctor somewhere around here" he called from the bathroom, his croaky voice echoing against the tile walls.

"We? Why we?" she tucked her pyjama top around the top of the radiator.

"I want you to come with me, dearie. I need someone to communicate for me" He got the brush from his overnight bag and started fixing his shaggy black hair in front of the mirror.

"Can't you talk yourself?" she headed for the bathroom with her bag of toiletries.

"Not after throat injections," he rubbed his eyes, "my vocal chords need to relax for an hour or two"

"See, you're all groggy! You need a rest" she placed her overnight bag on the marble sink, trying to use any excuse to avoid coming along.

"Believe me when I say I'm knackered and parched but we're better doing this sooner than later..." he slung his arm around her shoulder, "I'm not allowed to eat and drink for an hour or two afterwards"

"Great, so I will have to put up with you when you're tired, hungry, and speechless... as if the time of the month wasn't bad enough" she retorted playfully as she stared back at herself in the mirror.

Freddie, despite being exhuasted, still looked dapper in his black leather jacket with the fur trimmed collar and his grey pants. Monica, on the other hand, was visibly more fatigued from being on the tail-end of her period and more than ready to lounge in her unwashed denim flares, blue tracksuit top, her hair unwashed and dark circles on her bare face.

"You've dealt with me drunk and high, you'll survive" he smugly grinned back at her reflection.

A knock sounded on their door before she could argue back.

"You get yourself cleaned up a bit if you want, I will answer it" he kissed her cheek, slipping his hand back out.

"I guess I have no choice... his bribes will win no matter how unglamorous I feel" she thought as he left the bedroom alcove, and grabbed her nivea from her bag, "I should be happy... I am travelling across America, access all areas with the greatest rockband..."

As she listened to Queen's manager discuss the appointment details and location of the clinic, Monica took a minute to insert a tampon and make herself more presentable, putting mascara on her puffy eyes. She huffed, pulling her greasy hair back from her face and tying it into a bun at the nape of her neck as she heard the door shut.

"There's a car booked for us on its way over," he came in with an umbrella in his hand, "Deaky's leant us his umbrella because it's started bucketing out there.

She crossed her arms, "Told you it was downcast... I've never used a foreign health care system before"

"Oh darling, is that why you're so afraid?" He leaned against the marble sink.

"Maybe... also I've only been on this continent a few days and already I don't like the amount of ribbon developments in the towns. It's all so disorientating, the streets look the same with the bare trees!" she waffled an excuse.

"Please come along with me," he sunk to her feet, hugging her legs, "I promise I will be a good boy"

"Are you sure you want to be seen with me? I'm not in the most attractive state or the sparkiest mood" she tested the pleading brown eyes looking back up as her.

"I couldn't care less about how you look," He purred, "There's far more emphasis on your smile when your face is au naturel anyway... and your body-"

"Alright, I'm coming!" she gave in, stepping out of his grip.

"Excellent" he grinned, getting back onto his feet and following her out, "Anyway, I'm sure that when you get back on your feet you'll be in a good mood again."

"Oh, it's not my mood I'm worried about. I have paracetamol to control that. It's yours!" She sat on the edge of the luxury queen size bed to tighten her shoelaces.

"It'll be an add-on to have someone there when they put the needle in" He fixed his hair again in front of the wardrobe mirror, neatening his bangs.

"Oh, so you're squeamish!" she teased, standing back up.

"No!" He fired back, his cheeks turning pink.

"Why didn't you say that you didn't like needles" she stretched up to kiss his lips, putting her hands around his neck.

His eyes fluttered closed as he slowly kissed back, his hands pulled the elastic out of her hair.

She pulled away as her hair fell to her shoulders again, "You prefer it down?"

He silently nodded, twiddling a brown strand between his fingers, but he was interrupted by the sound of the room telephone ringing.

He sighed, drawing back and fixing his shirt and jacket, "It's probably for me"

She smoothed her hair back, and her eye was caught by the thick, tattered binder filled with travel guides and brochures advertising tourist attractions as Freddie slipped past to answer the phone.

"Maybe I can find somewhere to eat tonight" she thought as she flicked to the restaurant section, despite knowing that the band would tend to go somewhere more upscale.

All the pictures of the sunlit streets were lined with trees and she saw the nickname 'city in the forest' thrown around, but ouside rainwatrer dripped off the bare branches and the urban landscape that supposedly met nature was far less appetising.

"There are bound to be young people who have ticets to the concert with Queen fever anyway... he will get recognised  at a diner or something" she slammed the binder shut as Freddie murmured his goodbyes to whoever was on the other end , "How am I going to survive 48 hours here?"

"Was that our ride?" Monica forced a smile.

He strolled up to her with open arms, "Just confirmation that it's on the way"

She flopped into his arms, "Maybe you're right... if I get on my feet again I'll be in a good mood"

"I'm the one having someone shove a needle down my throat, I should be in a bad mood" Freddie rested his chin on her shoulder.

She lifted her head, "Don't tell me you're the one who doesn't want to move now!"

He grunted, holding his ground and keeping his arms in a lock as Monica tried to budge.

But knowing exactly where his weak spot was, she reached down and gently spanked his bottom.

"OOH!!" He sounded, and she made a be-line for the door.

Muttering, he took the door keys hanging up on the hook on the wall and reluctantly followed the laughing girl out.

She still had her childish ways about her, but that was why he loved her.

*****

"Freddie, why don't you take your glasses off now? I don't think anybody recognises you"

"I'm Alfred in public, remember?" he hissed back at Monica as they sat in the row of chairs in the centre of the medicle centre's waiting room, anxiously looking around for any eyes on him.

"Sorry, Alfred Mason, got it" she whispered, tucking her arms around herself at the draught being let in by people flooding in and out of the entrance.

He put his arm around the back of her chair, "We must think of a code name for you, my dear"

"A code name? Why would I need a code name?" She glanced to him quizzically.

"You never know. Our phone calls could be tapped, the press are always out there looking for something to gossip about" He muttered. 

"Surely not me... I'm not an actress or socialite," She listed off, "or a model or someone in the fashion industry, or anything worth talking about for that matter-"

"And the fact that one of us doesn't have a such a high profile career is a good thing... becoming famous is like losing your mortality... if you were a Charlie's Angel there'd be twice as much publicity"

"Like what?" she asked.

"Well... there'd likely be a paparazzo hiding behind the hedge in the car park out there" he pointed out the glass revolving doors.

She leaned over to get a better view past him, "I wouldn't be a Charlie's Angel... I would stick to being in the police force, even though being a cop isn't the easiest job to have at home right now"

"Why not?" He soflty slipped his hand into hers.

"You know... with the IRA and the Loyalists." She stared down at her feet.

"Oh yes, I should've known... bashing the shit out of eachother over a silly bit of land, eh?" He tried to lightlen the mood.

"...To think, while I'm here, they're there..." She hesitated, thinking about her family.

"Why don't they just bloody move somewhere else like my family did?"

"It's not that simple, Fred... they're too tied to hope, they've seen better times there... and they were never directly targeted like your family"

"Then why did you move?" 

"To be with you... and ever since I moved to be with you I felt like a child all over again"

"Really?" He squeezed her hand.

She nodded sincerely, "When I am with you I don't have to worry about waking up and getting killed the next day or-"

His lips met hers before she could finish her sentence, feeling his large hand pulling her neck closer. 

Her hand instinctively reached up and caressed his unshaven cheek as she kissed him back, regardless of the handful of eyes now on them.

"Don't you dare mention such things" He uttered when they'd finished their public display of affection.

"How did we get to this? I thought that we were talking about code names" she felt shivers down her spine.

"Ahh yes... thought of anything?" He started rubbing her thigh.

"I haven't had time to think yet!" She huffed.

"If you don't think of anything I will just call you Little Miss Grumpy Pants." He nudged.

She refused to be swayed by the goofy smile on his face, "You can call me... Nicola Finnigan. They already sound similar enough to my own"

"Where's your creativity? What about something like... Babing Hot Knockers-"

Her hand flew up to his mouth, "Fre-Alfred!!"

He giggled, prying her fingers away, "Not obscene enough?"

"Fredrick?" A voice in the background grabbed their attention.

He looked over to see an African American woman with her coily hair tied back, peeping her head through the door.

He stood up, "That's me"

"I'm ready for you now" She said, opening her door to let him in.

"Is it alright if my girlfriend comes in?" He took Monica by the hand and pulled her onto her feet.

"Of course," The doctor stood by, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything"

Monica's cheeks flushed rosy as Freddie answered, taking his sunglasses off, "Not at all, dearie"

"God, I have never heard of a throat injection until today," Monica let him lead her into the small, square office, "I hope that it's nothing too drastic"

"If you sit here..." She pointed Monica to the seat by her desk and shut the door behind her, then pointed to her examination bench, "And Frederick, you sit there-"

"Please, Freddie will do" He began taking his leather jacket off and folding it next to him.

"Alright Freddie," she took her stethescope off from around her neck and set it on her desk, "Before I can administer this procedure I have to ask you a few health and lifestyle questions"

"Ask away" He sat down on the bench, watching as she lifted her clipboard.

Monica zoned out as the doctor followed healthcare protocol, looking at the needle syringe sitting on the metal tray on the trolly across the room. The last time she saw a stainless steel trolly was back home in Belfast when she and Paula snuck into town on the last day of school when she was about 15 or so to get their ears pierced. The sight of needles or any sterile equipment for that matter made her shudder.

Her eyes then dandered across all the medical pamphlets on the doctor's desk, advising and informing on viruses, symptoms of fevers, blood donation...

She stopped at family planning, and the section regarding reproduction and motherhood.

"Oh I hope he hasn't forgotten what he said back in Cornwall..." she watched Freddie answer each question with conviction.

The sight of mothers, especially new parents gave her envy, for day by day it had become less and less of a half-hearted decision of what she wanted in life. He told her once that he was ready to 'take the next step', and even though he had been on tour he still hadn't brought up the topic of babies since. The lack of his presence made her long for motherhood more and more day by day, regardless of how young she was, but the fact that she was still in the blue about what Freddie wanted made her wince.

"What if his lifestyle prevents him from that? What if he will never have the time?"

But the sound of the doctor straightening up the medical forms against the leather bench saved her from her torment, "You're all set Mr Mercury. Lie back for me please and relax"

He hauled his legs up and reclined, suffling a little to get comfortable before stretching his arm towards her, "Monica?"

The girl got back onto her feet and stood behind the elevated part of the bench where his head rested, briefly lacing her hand with his as the doctor pulled on latex gloves at the trolly.

He started up at her from upside down as she held his face in her hands, "Promise you won't leave"

"God, I love him" she could feel her heart melt as she stared back down into his vulnerable eyes.

She smoothed his bangs back, leaning down to kiss his forehead, "This is your last chance to speak for the next while. Make your words count"

"I think I'll sing something instead..." He murmured.

She smiled back, and the doctor sounded, "If you're gonna sing, sing a gentle excercise"

"She's right, your vocal chords are already tired enough" Monica's thumb tenderly rubbed up and down his as she felt the grip of his hand tighten as he began to hum a miscellaneous melody that she'd never heard.

"Now Mr Mercury," The doctor came over with the syringe in hand, "Open wide"

His singing came to a halt as he reluctantly let his jaw drop, streching as far as he could as the long needle now entered his mouth.

He let out a groan in complaint as it pierced through, and Monica uneasily shuffled in her spot as she felt him practically breaking her hand.

"Good, just keep still..." the Doctor murmured.

Freddie's eyes screwed shut as he felt the needle rummaging through the flesh at the back of his throat. Sensing his discomfort, Monica put her other hand on his head.

"Well done, that's it" The doctor slowly slipped the needle out as his sharp black brows furrowed in discomfort.

"That's it?" Monica watched as Freddie sat back up slowly.

"Yep, just a little prick" The doctor pulled off her gloves at the trolley.

She put her hand on his back assuringly, "I don't know what I pictured but it was more elaborate than that"

The doctor continued, "And remember, no eating or drinking for at least an hour, and try not to speak or sing for at least a couple of days."

Monica looked to Freddie, knowing rightly that he had to sing the next evening.

He nodded to acknowledge the doctor's orders, then looked to her and tapped his nose.

She shook her head, whispering, "You rebel, you"

"Now, go back to the reception desk and sign these. Your invoice is at the bottom" The doctor straightened forms up in her hand.

Freddie nodded again, slipping his arms into his jacket and taking them off her, offering a handshake since he was unable to verbally give thanks.

"Now, the local anaesthetic might make you feel light-headed for the next hour, so go easy" she lifted the lid from the glass jar on her desk and handed him a lollipop, "Take this if your sugars feel low later. It won't affect your throat"

"Why, thank you. But isn't that for children?" Monica followed him out.

"Well, it's not everyday that a rockstar walks into our practise" the doctor winked. 

She thanked her before the went back into her office and shut the door, then rushed to Freddie as he waited in line.

When it was his turn, he handed the little boy standing in front of him his lollipop, ruffling his blonde hair and smiling back.

"That doctor was right about the light-headedness" she watched as the boy's mother lead the beaming child back to his seat.

He turned to her, and handed her some spare change and pointed to the pay phone across the room.

"Who do you want me to call?" She asked.

He put his hands in front of himself to mime a steering wheel.

"Oh, a taxi... What number?" She asked.

He turned to the desk, miming the steering wheel to the nurse who paused what he was doing. Monica watched as he set the medical documents in his hand of his desk and bent down below to pick up an Atlanta telephone directory.

"Oh lord, that'll take all day to look through"

He handed it to her, "Look under the Buckhead area"

"Thank you" she managed to catch the thick book in her hands, checking the contents page.

Before she could run off, Freddie grabbed her shoulder and held up five fingers.

"Five what?" she asked.

She couldn't make out what he was mouthing, watching on confused as he grabbed a business card on the side board and drew a star.

"Five star taxi service? The service we came here in?"

He nodded, pointing to the payphone again insistently and tapping his left wrist.

"Seems like being his communicator is harder than I thought" Monica headed for the payphone, flipping though the phone book of biblical proportions.

... as if being on the road in another country wasn't difficult enough.

*****

Back at the Ritz-Carlton...

"Phew! Glad it's over. And nobody even asked for your autograph!" Monica shut the door behind her, shaking her tracksuit jacket off and throwing it onto the settee in the middle of the suite as she rushed to the window, a muted Freddie in tow as he took his sunglasses off.

The Whitley suite was on one of the top floors, allowing her to get a view of the city to the south amongst the bare trees that were shrouded with fog, and beyond the midwest horizon.

"I wish we could've come here in spring... or even autumn when the leaves are brown," She mused as she felt Freddie's arms slip around her from behind, "At least we dodged the snowy season that the taxi driver droned on about"

He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window, and her fingers felt the smooth black leather of his sleeves as he held her.

"It's a pity you're not allowed to sing. You could play something to accompany your voice and make a nice background noise." she looked across the carpet to the wooden grand piano.

She heard him grunt before smiling into her cheek, and burying his face into her brown waves.

She giggled, "I don't know what was in that injection but it's put you in a daze of some kinAAAYAAAGHHH!!"

He'd flung her over her shoulder, carrying her past the coffee table and to the settee.

"What are you-Put me down!" she laughed, hammering his back with her fists, to which he spanked her bottom and twirled around and around until she was dizzy. 

He threw her onto the settee, and she sat back up in a muddle as he took his leather jacket off.

Flustered, she took her trainers off and reached across for more tourist attraction pamphlets off the coffee table, "I never even saw these when we walked in"

She felt him sitting uncomfortably close against her as she skimmed over each one, him undoing his laces.

"What do you want to do? We can get a guided tour bus out to the plantation where they filmed Gone with the wind" she held one up that was fronted with a picture of a house titled 'Tara'.

He paused to think for a bit, for he always liked Golden Hollywood Cinema, then silently shook his head, and she flicked through more.

"Okay... The Coca Cola factory and museum?" she held up a red pamphlet with the logo splashed across it.

He shook his head again, sick of seeing the brand everywhere as it endorsed and sponsored a lot of venues that he'd been in.

"Let me guess..." She set them onto the arm rest beside her, "you want to go shopping!"

Wearing a grin, he nudged her insistently.

"Freddie?! Stop!" She laughed, inching to the edge of the settee.

But he kept advancing in on her until she was pushed against the corner by the mass of his bodily weight.

"FREDDIE!!" She cried out as he crouched above her on all fours to stop her getting away, hair and silver chains on his neck falling around his face as he invaded her personal space.

He nestled himself on top of her like a child, resting his head against her bosom.

"Are you in a loveable mood?" She whispered, her fingers massaging the crown of his head.

He nodded, clinging onto her waist as he listened to her heartbeat, and her nostrils inhaled the lemony aroma of Johnston's baby shampoo from his silvy raven hair.

"Smells like you didn't rinse your hair properly this morning," Monica laid her head back on the armrest, staring up at the ceiling, "Ah well, I suppose you were in a rush to get out the door and check out"

But he popped up and blocked her view of the overhead ceiling fan, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her on top of him so suddenly in a way that made her heart race. 

His hand reached down to her thigh, pulling it up to his hip as she slid her tongue into his luscious lips. She frantically kissed him all over his face; his forehead, his nose, his thick black eyelashes,  the stubbly hollow of his cheekbone before her mouth wandered back to his as their hands roamed across eachother's bodies.

"Mmmph..." Monica slipped her hand under his yellow polo shirt, the titilating temperature from his hairy torso increasing under the skin of her palm as his tongue danced in her mouth, his long fingers tangled in her hair as their torsos writhed against one another.

He lifted his arms to let her pull his shirt off, and she felt him lift her up as she gripped onto his shoulders with all the strength that she had left. 

"Where are you taking me?" she gasped, wrapping her legs around his slim waist as she felt him carry her away from the settee.

He rousingly kissed her neck as her nails nug into his feverish olive skin. And he carried her to the pitch black en suite bathroom, tugging at the cord to switch on the light.

"Oh I see now..." She breathed, "You want more than to rinse your hair"

He nodded, and within seconds they were kissing eachother under the showerhead in the bathroom, tugging eachother's clothes off as cold to lukewarm water gushed down upon them. She wiped the traces of mascara now smeared under her eyes before they could get inside her contacts and blur her vision. It wasn't long before they were almost naked and Monica's lips slid down his chest, his abdomen...

He grabbed her soaking wet hair as she sunk to her knees and onto the wetroom floor, pulling his underpants down last, taking his hard member in her hand and into her mouth. For Freddie it took everything not to speak or moan as he felt her tongue swirling on his purple tip, his hips moving back and forth with her mouth as he lost all composure.

He yanked her hair and pulled her off and up before he could surrender, pushing her against the marble tile wall and kissing her again.

"Oh no... I forgot about the tampon!" she panicked as she watched Freddie reciprocate, his hands smothering her curves and bare breasts, then crouching beneath her and peeling her wet panties off her pale thighs.

Blushing, she unwillingly parted her them slightly to reveal the piece of string dangling between her legs, to which he hesitated before looking up and shooting her a lustful smirk.

"You-You're not repulsed?" She squeaked, and he forced her thigh back and yanked it out before she could stop him, dismissively flinging it behind him and passed the screen blurred with condensation.

"Great, I will have to clean that up later" she watched as he rolled across the steamy bathroom until it slowed, leaving a slight bloodied trail.

But she didn't worry for long, for soon enough his lips were on her, his large hands grabbing her bottom as her hands flexed against the wall.

"God... I-I thought that you weren't allowed to swallow anything..." she stammered as he went up on her, his tongue softly flickering on her swollen clitoris.

He propped her trembling legs upon his shoulders before she could slip and lose her balance.

He hauled himself back up, licking his lips as he pinned her against the wall. They shared another smooch and passionate embrace under the stream of running hot water, the air in their lungs thick and humid.

"Freddie!" her jaw dropped open in plasure as she felt him entering her, him desperately trying to hold the growl in his throat as he began to thrust.

She let him pin her arms back as he increased his speed and went deeper, his hot breaths in her ear becoming more and more strenuous. She was unable to hear her own cries of ecstasy the closer he brought her to orgasm. 

But it all came to an ambrubt halt when he pulled out before she could reach her peak, tugging her arm and yanking her down to the wet floor where there was enough room for two people to lie across. 

She put her hands onto his thighs propped up behind her to steady herself as she straddled his hips and slipped onto his girth, and she began to pace herself gradually.

She watched his droplet-covered body squirming beneath her as she pumped up and down, his square jaw twitching as he swallowed his moans, his curly wet hair falling by his head and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as she pinned his athletically lean arms back.

But he broke free and pulled her head down by her neck, kissing her hungrily to stop him from making any more noise. Her groans grew uncontrollably again as his hips bucked in rhythm with her body. He bit his bottom lip hard when the time came, her collapsing on top as she felt bursts of adrenaline searing through her body as they climaxed, hot and fast.

They shared a final kiss as an "I love you" before she slipped off and curled up against his damp chest as she would when they were in bed, him gasping for air. They stayed that way for a minute until they caught their breaths again, the sounds of their rabid beartbeats and running water.

She finally sat up a little as she felt his hand tenderly smoothing up and down her back, reaching around the back of his broad neck to the lobster clasp of his silver necklace, "You shouldn't wear these things in water, they'll rust"

She set them outside the shower space, him waiting with open arms and a warm smile once he'd sat back up.

She pressed her cheek against his wet shoulder as she lazily draped her arms around his neck,  "I'm missing the sound of your voice already... I suppose it'll all be worth it when tomorrow night rolls arund... I can't wait to see you shine like the star you are..."

Wordlessly, he hauled her onto his lap as she curled up in his hold, kissing her forehead.

"There are so many things I miss telling you, singing to you..." he wanted to say as he cradled her under the stream, "I miss saying your name, calling you my irish flower, my baby..."

Apart from the inability to speak or sing, everything in his life was perfect at that moment.