Omni colloseum, downtown Atlanta, Georgia, 8th December, 1977

"Where do you want me to drop you off, ma'am? I can't seem to drive to it from here" The taxi driver told Monica as he passed a row of parking bollards blocking the back entrance of the large stadium.

"I will walk it from here. Thank you" Monica dug through her purse and handed him the correct change.

She climbed out, and set off on her merry way as the taxi moved off.

The sky above the urban landscape towering around her was dim and cloudy, and the lamp posts switched on as she moved onto the public footpath, to which she mumbled, "Perfect timing"

As she walked, she glanced down to the floral green dress that she was wearing. It was a few years off-trend because she still couldn't afford to buy the latest styles, and she didn't even remember packing it in the first place, but she knew that Freddie didn't mind as long as she was happy in it.

She reached the vip entrance in no time, and two of the venue security guards that she didn't recognise were standing there, as always. But these ones were more intimidating than any that she'd ever encountered.

"Pass, please" The skinheaded one on the left said as she approached.

"Pass?" Monica felt her pockets in a panic, and to her surprise there was one there.

It looked different to the one she remebered being given by the administrators the day she arrived in Chicago, which was fronted with Frank the robot. Nontheless, she assumed that she didn't look at it properly at the time, and presented it.

"Are you a fan?" the second one asked, and Monica swore that she saw his eyes turn black.

They didn't even examine it properly.

"She's dressed like one" the bald one followed, eyeing her, then the pass, critically.

She felt her blood boil, "The fact that these absolute morons have the audacity-"

"No! I'm Freddie Mercury's girlfriend!" she was getting irritable, "How do you think I got my hands on a pass otherwise?!"

They laughed, "Freddie Mercury has no girlfriends, he is a poof!"

"Bring me to him and see for yourself if you don't believe me," thinking that she was being clever, she crossed her arms, "Or just ask Ratty"

"Ratty?" the other echoed, "Who is Ratty?"

"Peter Hince! Ratty! His roadie!" she protested.

"Do you think it's stolen?" the one on the right murmured to the one on the left, who nodded.

Then, they grabbed her arm before she could tell them how she got it, "Where are you taking me?!"

She looked around as they pulled her through the plain, white brick walls of the backstage corridor and linoleoum flooring. It didn't look like any other opulent VIP areas she had been to, which had cream-painted walls where photographs documenting the venue's history would normally hang, and carpets, and overall a much warmer atmosphere.

"You'd think that somewhere Elvis Presley performed at would have better decor and not look like a school" she remarked in her head.

They at last turned a sharp corner into a dark corridor as she heard sound of laughter getting louder, and she saw an open door at the end of the corridor with light spilling out and silhouettes flashing past the doorway as her heart began to race.

"Wait behind us" one of the guards instructed on the approach, and she caught a glimpse of a butler with a tray of champagne flutes.

"That's odd," she thought, "They normally have champagne after the gig, not before it!"

She peered inside the coldly-lit room, with small desk-like tables everywhere occupied by people she didn't recognise wearing their finery as they sat drinking and smoking, some even kissing eachother, the walls in the background stacked with guitar stands and amplifiers that blared out psychedelic musak.

"Did I miss the gig!? Has the after party already started?! Shouldn't the instruments be on stage?" she panicked aloud, noticing that the layout looked more like a music classroom than a dressing room, and women in sequened cocktail dresses were dancing in the tall, blacked-out window.

"Quiet!" one of the guards ordered, knocking on the door, "Mr Mercury?"

"Maybe the Omni used to be a school," she thought, trying to look past the party people for any familiar crew or faces, "Either that or this is some bizarre kind of setup for Vogue USA"

Through a gap between them, she finally saw him sitting at the grand piano in the bottom of the classroom in his multicolour harlequin leotard and leather jacket, hunched over the ivory keys with one of his fingers pressed against his nostril, the other three members of Queen watching him.

She gasped when she realised he was doing a line,  "But he never takes drugs before a concert... not to my knowledge anyway"

The classroom turned silent, an all eyes turned to her as she felt the room turn smaller. Brian and John and Roger didn't even greet her, just stared at her as if she had three heads. And there was no sign of Ratty either.

"Do you know this girl?" one of the guards asked.

"She says she's your girlfriend" the other added.

.She never thought that the sight of his dimples would be so painful as he and the rest of Queen laughed, even nice old Deaky who she'd approach first out of the three of them. She looked right and left as her cheeks turned red, but all the party-goers who were standing there seconds ago were gone, exiting the classroom door.

Freddie stood up off his seat slowly once the room was silent, wiping the last traces of cocaine on his nostril with the back of his hand. Aside from his kohl-lined eyes, the distant expression of interest on his face was the same as the one he wore the first time they laid eyes on eachother across the room on the night they met.

He approached her slowly. Monica longed to speak, but she held her tongue back as the twinkle of curiosity in his eyes only grew into something more delerious and terrifying and the closer he inched, the tighter the security guards' grip on her arms got.

"I don't know that girl." He finally shook his head.

Her face fell, "This has to be a practical joke"

"Wait, are you getting the whole venue to play a trick on me?" she spoke as the guards were about to drag her away.

"Are you sure you don't know her?" The guard repeated.

"I'm certain. I don't ever miss a face" Freddie sat back down at his piano.

The seriousness in his voice was scaring her.

"What are you playing at?!" She lunged forward, "It's me, Monica!"

"Watch it, sweetheart!" one of the guards hissed, "Or your teeth will be dug into the pavement out there before you know it!"

"I'm your girlfriend, we have been together for six months now! We love eachother!" her voice rose, and the other three surrounding him chuckled.

"One more peep out of you and you're out of here!" said the other guard.

Freddie waved her away, "That girl means nothing to me"

The denial only made Monica struggle more, "How could you say that!? We live together on number 12 Stafford Terrace-"

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Freddie yelled across her the moment she said his address, his face furiously purple, "Get her out of here before she starts saying that she wants to have my babies or something"

A lump in her throat formed as she felt her face tighten.

"You haven't talked to me about having babies since we were in Cornwall and you bring it up in a situation like this?! I can't believe you!"

"That's ENOUGH!" He interrupted, "Let her go!"

"Oh, thank goodness for that" she smiled in relief as she felt the grips on her arm being freed.

He got up off of his piano stool, and her hopes of an escape  were diminished when she saw veins popping out of his forehead. That's when she realised it had gone too far, and that it wasn't a game.

He grabbed her arm before she had time to run, knocking her into desks as she felt him drag her across. She looked behind her at the guards and the rest of the band helplessly, but they didn't intervene. They just stood and stared as he dragged her out the classroom door.

"Freddie, what's happening?!" she pleaded as they reentered the dark corridor, "Are you taking me somewhere to talk about this?!"

He ignored her, staring sharply ahead, tight-lipped and jaw locked as he pulled her through the pitch black to whatever unknown consequence lay in her path.

They turned another corner, and ahead of her she saw three blue spotlights, each shining down on John holding his bass guitar, Brian on his red special and Roger on his raised drum kit behind them. The closer she got she was able to distingush the melody that they were playing even though none of the instruements were on the track for that matter; I feel love by Giorgio Moroder, the song that she and Freddie shared their first kiss to.

Before she had time to wonder how they all got there before she did and if Queen had added more cover songs on their setlist (even though this one sounded identical to the original), Freddie had thrust her underneath the fourth spotlight, which was the brightest one of all.

Beneath her, all the people from the music classroom were her audience, silently standing and waiting to be entertained as Queen played I feel love played in the backround.

"Is there some sort of secret passage that I don't know about?" she looked around for any hidden or trap doors on the stage, when she felt a hand fall firmly on her shoulder.

"This mad bitch..." Freddie slurred into his microphone on its signature sawed-off stand, "This fucking mad bitch is called Monica... and she says she's my girlfriend!"

The audience laughed as he and Roger and Brian and John just cackled.

"Stop doing this!" She tried to shout as she wriggled under his grip on her shoulder, but the words didn't come out, "Why are you doing this to me?!"

He continued his relentlessly humiliating attack, "She says we've been together six months and she knows where I live... says we're in love, whatever that means!"

The audience mockingly swooned, and Monica pleadingly shook her head, backing away from him as he advanced in on her, I feel love building up in the background.

"...A poor little nobody from Belfast with a job in a cafe that makes bloody sausage rolls an apple pies..." Freddie taunted, "No university entry, no sense of style, no friends, no life of her own... she's got nothing!"

The audience exclaimed in disgust as the other three boys wrinkled their noses.

Then his voice went chillingly low, "What makes you think that I'd take interest in a poor, delusional little nobody like you?"

He smirked manically as he watched her face crumpling up in anguish.

She couldn't hear herself scream at him, telling him he was a 'horrible, heartless monster', gasping whatever else she could think of in desperation as her eyes grew bleary. She didn't care about making a fool of herself in front of everyone else in the stadium anymore, for all along she'd clearly been a laughing stock.

She just wanted to make him stop.

Whatever she had said it had worked, for the look in his eyes changed from wicked to hurt within a split second, and Giorgio Moroder and the audience's laughter had come to a halt.

The audience were gone, the other three blue spotlights switching off, leaving only her and Freddie in stunned silence, alone at last.

He turned away, sullenly lowering his arm with the microphone.

Monica took a deep breath, glad that her ordeal was now over, yet still confused as to why Freddie would deny such a thing in a horrible way.

She finally, and cautiously spoke up at last, "Why would you do this? Why this way? I thought you cared-"

"Kill her." he muttered coldly in a way that sent shivers up her spine.

"What?!" she let out in alarm.

He shot her a blood-curdling glare over his shoulder, repeating himself "I said FUCKING KILL HER!"

She tried to scream for help at the top of her lungs as figures in balaclavas rushed out from the shadows, some holding her at gunpoint whilst others grabbed her from behind and held her back.

"No, NO! You can't let me die like this!!" She tried to yell at the man who betrayed her, but he vanished into nothingness as the terrorists dragged her to the floor, clearing for one that stood above her as it pointed the double barell of the rifle level with her eyes and pulled the trigger-

The sound of her voice finally broke through the moment death flashed inches away from her face, and she was able to hear her own wail of dread in her skull as she felt a terrorist's pair of hands shaking her gently.

But it released its grip as she bolted upright, panting as her head swung around in the dark for any sign of the balaclava figures nearby, only to feel the warmth of her hotel bed surrounding her body instead of multiple pairs of hands and no voices in her ears.

"Monica? Monica, what happened?!"

Freddie was now leaning above her with his hands on her arms, the duvet draped around his shoulders as the dusky light from the window showed his brows furrowing in concern.

She threw her arms around him as she sunk into his warmth again, sobbing into his neck  in relief as she realised that he wasn't the same man who'd left her heartbroken only seconds before after all and that she was within the safety of their Atlanta hotel room.

"I thought that you never knew me! God, everyone had forgotten me, nobody knew me..." she repeated in distress.

"You were just having a bad dream," His voice was hushed as he rocked back and forth in the dark with her gently, "You were whimpering and tossing and turning in your sleep, I heard you-"

"Y-You left me there!! You-You  didn't come back for me," she lifted her face from him, "You told them to kill me!"

"Told who?" He pressed calmly, eagre to know about how his beastly-sounding role played out.

"The terrorists, dozens of them! They were all in balaclavas, just like the ones are back home," she wiped her eyes, "And on your orders one of them pointed a gun down at me... and pulled the trigger and it was all over"

He didn't like hearing that he was the villain of her nightmare, but he didn't like how her deepest insecurities played out in some shape or form either.

Sitting up with her in his hold, he reached over and switched the bedroom lamp on as she clung on in bewilderment.

"Darling, you're shaking,"he grabbed a tissue from the box and started dabbing it gently on her wet cheeks, "Take a deep breath, I'm here"

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry" she muttered over and over, shaking her head in despair.

"Shhhhh..." he pressed his lips to her forehead, then laid her back down off the crook of his elbows, "I'll get you some decaf  to calm you down"

She nodded, her lips still trembling as he leaned down to kiss her.

She did feel a little it of his love pass through, but in her freshly doubtful mind it wasn't the same.

She watched him put a hotel bedrobe on and disappear, then rolled away and clutched the duvet around her as she tried to gather the sequence of events that occured in her nightmare, and the enourmous sense of rejection and insecurity it was making her feel. The hormones from her period only made them bigger.

"Oh Monica, how did you not realise that it was all in your head? The fact that the concert was taking place in a school, the fact that the boys got onto the stage before you and Freddie did, the way that everybody constantly insulted your lack of a fashion sense..."

It was just then she remembered her floral green dress that she was wearing throughout the whole thing.

"I definitely didn't bring it with me" she sat back up and stepped out of the bed, creeping across to her open suitcase on the ground as she heard the kettle boiling from the suite kitchen.

Snivelling, she dug through her clothes in the low light. And indeed, the dress was nowhere to be found, the realisation being somewhat assuring for her that what she saw was far from reality.

"You haven't even seen the venue yet, there's no way it would look like a school corridor," she got back onto her feet, "and you have the VIP pass... they will let you in no matter what"

She knew that she didn't fit in and that she wasn't the rock star's average trophy girlfriend that she and Freddie had been talking about the day before in the clinic, and perhaps that was what triggered the dream in the first place.

"And the sight of those family planning leaflets set off that awful baby remark" she climbed back in and sat up against the head board, thinking about how she was still in the blue about whether or not he wanted to have children.

But the man in the dream definitely wasn't the same man who was making a cup of tea in the next room, even though she had yet to see that side of him.

She listened numbly as she heard the sound of the teaspoon clinking agaist the rim of the tea cup, and hugged her knees to her chest as she heard his footsteps and saw his shadow crawling across the wall.

"I didn't add any sugar in" she heard his silken voice as she felt the mattress sink around her.

She flashed a timid smile as she took it in her shaking hands carefully, "Thank you"

She brought it to her mouth and took a sip as he slipped his robe off and shimmed back under the duvet, the comforting warmth of the hot liquid running down her throat as she felt him wrap his arm around her.

"Feeling better?" he asked once he got settled.

She answered honestly, resting her head on his shoulder as she stared into space, "A little bit"

He reached his other arm across and grazed his thumb against her damp cheek affectionately, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

She shook her head, and stared down at her cup as vapour swirled from the surface of the tea, choosing not to mention the the fact that she was a stranger to the four of them, and of how he spoke such crushing things.

If anything, she didn't want to bring up the baby thing, for when she looked back the way he  spoke of having children was agonising to hear. While she believed in honesty and openness something as hurtful and destructive as that was best left unheard.

"Silence is golden" she told herself.

But her reluctance was still enough to offend him, for he drew his hand back and looked away.

"...I am afraid that it might hurt your feelings" she admitted, taking another sip.

"People talk shit about me every day, I won't mind if it's a silly nightmare" he was curious to know more about how beastly he was.

"But words hurt when they come from the mouth of the one you love" she trailed off.

After all, she now knew what it felt like. The way that she sounded so lost in thought gave it away to him.

"I was an absolute arsehole in the dream, wasn't I? I did more then just watch you die"

"You didn't even watch me die... you just disappeared and I screamed and screamed for help" she reflected.

As she tipped her head back and glugged down the rest of her cup he tried to mentally visualise masked people that he'd only ever seen on the news ambushing his irish flower, a thought too painful to think of for more than a second.

She set her empty cup down on the side table, "Thank you for the tea"

He shuffled under the cover a little more, lifting the duvet for her to get in before reaching over to switch the lamp off.

She curled up against him in the dark, and her arm was kept to herself rather than draped across his chest as usual. He could feel her body was more rigid underneath the fabric of her pyjama top.

"The worst bit about it was your eyes..." she spoke into his chest after a minute,"the scariest angry people are always in dreams... one look and you know that you're doomed"

"What a funny thing to say," he chuckled, "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know, it's just something I've noticed for years" she shrugged, intently fiddling with the chains around his neck.

"Well, have you had any nice dreams before?" He whispered.

"Dreams at night, yes. Ambitions, not really... but," she let out a yawn, "But, I guess that no sense of direction paid off."

"How so?" He nuzzled the crown of her head.

"Because never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I'd be lead to you" now tired, she planted a kiss on his collar bone and closed her eyes, listening to his heart skip a beat beneath her ear.

"...I'm so glad that I didn't go home alone that night... if there was one thing I feared it was another desolate summer"

"I don't know what use I am to Freddie Mercury if I'm not a blonde bombshell with an aspirational career" she opened one eye.

"I'd rather have salt of the earth than all the show ponies and studs that I'm surrounded by constantly"

"I thought you loved excess" she muttered.

"Only when I have someone as spellbound by it to share it with" he answered.

"Oh, so I have to be the one out of the both of us with my head screwed on, do I?"

"Well, I've got a role to play" was all he said.

She silenty hoped that the role that he certainly played in his dream didn't spill out into reality.

Nontheless, her eyes stayed shut after being worn out from crying, and she felt her troubles melting away in the warmth of his arms as her breathing soon began to sync with his...

*****

But it didn't take long for her troubled thoughts to return the next morning, for she woke to the hotel bed now empty as sunlight spilled across the duvet, and the sound of Freddie's soft british voice placing a telephone call elsewhere in the suite.

She saw the empty cup on the side table directly across from her as she opened her eyes, and decided to take it out to the sink when what he said next had caught her offguard.

"I try to make her happy mum but I... ever since I've taken Monica to America she's been distant. Almost sort of stroppy"

"Her?" Monica didn't move a muscle, about to grab the cup as her head hovered over her pillow.

"Do you think that'd work if I talked to her about it? ...She's not going to talk to me about it, I tried already... what do you mean I should do it before she gets hurt? She already is!"

"He's talking about me!" She felt her stomach knotting up as she listened, pulling her arm back to herself and setting her head back on the pillow.

"How is dad doing anyway? ...Good! Oh, you got the signed album after all? ...Great! What about Kash? Is she going to India to see your folks in the new year as well?...Well, I'll find you all a five star hotel in Mumbai to stay in then, can't have you sleeping on the ground... Yes mum, I'll be home for christmas... I don't know about Monica, she might want to go to her home but we haven't talked about it"

Just then she stared at her suitcase lying open on the floor, waiting for everything else to be stuffed and bundled up inside it and on its way to baggage claim of the next airport.

"I'll ring you back before tonight's gig starts, as long as you're still awake over there... alright, love you too mum. Bye, bye..."

She heard the click as he set it down on the cradle, and screwed her eyes shut as she heard the gentle padding of his bare footsteps.

She pretended to be asleep as they got louder and louder, laying on her side with her back to him as she climbed onto the mattress and slipped his arm around her from behind.

He stretched over and kissed her cheek, and she pretended to stir as his legs entwined with hers from behind.

"Morning" he spoke in her ear before blissfully burying his face into her fragrant brown hair.

Her hands felt the arms and hands locked around her as she opened her eyes.

She instinctively pressed her lips on his arm around her neck, "Good morning"

"...I hope that my irish flower got a peaceful sleep this time round" she heard him finally purr.

"Yes, don't worry" was all she could say at that moment.

"Good" she felt him smiling into the back of her neck.

She felt him undoing his arm, taking her wrist and bringing her hand to his mouth.

"Oh no, please don't" she grit her teeth as he started kissing her fingers one by one.

She turned her head to see what he was doing, and when their mouths collided she lost composure.

"Oh Monica, you can't let him have you," she scolded herself as she kissed him back, "You can't let him have you, not after those things that he said about you behind your back... soon enough he will turn into the man you saw in your dream"

But he was too quick for her in her lovesick state of mind, pulling her pyjama bottoms off and rubbing her bare thighs.

"Oh, those lips... and the look in those eyes... you have to fight them" she looked back up at him as he pulled his boxers down.

Staring up at the ceiling, she reluctantly let him pull her thighs to his hips, and after he aimed his hardness as her opening he gently pushed in. But she involuntarily gasped and winced.

"Darling, are you alright?" He spoke in her ear, for she felt tense and dry around him.

"Yeah..." she lied in a whisper, "I'm fine"

In response, he softly started to thrust, letting out a pleasured sigh as her face contorted in discomfort.

He slowed down immediately when he felt her body contracting, as if to push him out and away.

"Do you want me to stop?" He took her sweaty face in his hands, and he could see that it was red and bearing pain.

She turned her head away, ashamed, and nodded.

She felt him slip out of her, and she rolled away from him as soon as she was freed.

She stiffened as he then moulded himself against her from behind, awkwardly laying her head on the pillow as she laid imprisoned in his hold again.

"...Oh darling, why can't you just tell me what happened in that dream?" He suddenly gushed.

"Don't put me in this position!" She pleaded.

"Why can't we just be honest with each other?" He said.

Tears spilled from her eyes at that moment, and she hugged into her pillow and started to cry, and that's when he realised that the affects were more profound than he thought.

"Monica? Why are you upset?" Worried, he got on all fours and tried to roll her over.

"Because, I'm in love with the world's best frontman," she snivelled, "And I want it to last forever but... I can't help thinking that it's too good to be true. I'm sorry that I don't want to tell you want happened last night but I don't want to spoil such a happy time."

"Darling, it's alright! Just tell me what happened when you're ready to" He said.

She nodded quietly, then carelessly let out, "You sounded pretty eagre about finding out when talking to your mum just there"

"What?! You were listening in on my telephone conversation?!" He pulled his hands away.

"I didn't want to! But once you told you mum about how stroppy I'm being ever since I landed in America I just couldn't keep my ears shut. I'm sorry that I have premenstrual syndrome but-"

"I was talking about Mary ever since I told her I was bringing you here with me, not you!" He cut across her irritably.

"Mary?! What has Mary got to worry about that I don't?!" She shook him off, "She's got the looks, a career-"

"Watching the man who broke her heart move on with someone else! Did you ever consider that?!" His tone grew harsh.

"Are you sure that you want to spend the rest of your life with some... some poor little nobody from Belfast?" she spat, and rolled away from him again as she sunk into a foetal position.

"Who said that you were a nobody?!" He pressed.

"You did! In the dream!" She immediately answered.

Now he understood why she chose not to say anything. As tempting as it was he decided that he no longer wanted to know the full story of her dream at that second, but he chose to use whatever tactic he could to bring joy back to her face again.

She silently lay on her side, her body trembling as she silently sobbed.

"Now you listen to me," his voice went huskily low as he leaned closer to her ear, "You were the prettiest flower in the garden that night. I couldn't imagine anyone else in the room by my side except you, and I promise you that I only had one or two drinks"

"You were probably still very tipsy" She retorted.

"I was sobering up fast... I wanted to get out of there and get the hell away from Mary until you caught my eye"

"I don't even know why you bothered looking at me for more than ten seconds to be honest"

"That gorgeous black velvet jumpsuit... must've been couture from the 1940s at least" he answered straight away.

"It was gorgeous... except for the person in it" she murmured glumly, trying not to let her lips curl at the ends.

He ignored her last statement, "The way that the top half pushed up your tits was also rather distracting-"

"Stop it!" She rolled back over and clasped her hand over his mouth, a twinkle in her red eyes returning.

He grinned, prying her fingers away, "Now do you believe me?"

The sensual smirk on that stubbly face below her was just too hard to say no to.

"I suppose so..." she blushed.

"Oh! There were other things like your dainty little face and your sparkling blue eyes, the hair of a Hollywood starlet," he teased, "not forgetting the conversation that followed... left me wanting to get to know you a bit more"

"I'm sure you were disappointed but just too polite to say anything" she looked away.

"Not at all... if it weren't for that little smile and that feisty innocence you still wouldn't be mine" he stretched up and kissed her cheek.

"You're very good at keeping me around, you know" she couldn't keep her face straight anymore.

He sat up and held her close as she grew flimsy in his embrace, a soft light from the window basking over them.

"I hope you can forgive me for being so grouchy this morning" she pressed her cheek against his, his blue-black sideburns tickling her nose.

"You didn't even say sorry yet, so how can I forgive you?" He smirked into her ear.

"Alright, sorry!" She grumbled playfully, pulling away to kiss his lips to seal the apology officially.

Her suitcase on the hotel carpet was staying right where it was.