Garden Lodge, 22nd March 1984

"Roshni, love, don't feed him that! He's got his own milk!"

Monica pried the glass of milk from her daughter Roshni's hands as she tried to coax Goliath, sitting on the breakfast bar and watching her eat her lunch to share her drink with her.

She pouted as the black cat hopped off the surface and bounded out of the room. And the sound of Freddie's grand piano in the lounge being played erratically by Johnny was sounding throughout the house.

The school boiler broke down, but even then, Monica didn't see why Johnny and Roshni had to be sent home when temperatures were soaring in London. What use would a boiler have been then?

"Johnny?!" Monica called out, wiping of sweat from on her forehead using the back of her hand, "Come in here and finish your lunch... or no biscuit after!"

He slammed the Ivory keys hard in annoyance, and stomped back into the kitchen.

"And be careful with daddy's piano!" She nagged.

Before the little boy could answer back with something cheeky, the intercom rang, " I'll get it, mummy!"

"Okay! As them who they are, do not let them in!" She called out, picking up his knife and fork ready to cut his leftovers into bitesize pieces, muttering "Pity he won't eat these sausages but he will answer the door"

"Can we have chicken later?" Roshni squeaked.

Monica sighed, "We're meeting daddy later at  a restaurant sweetheart, remember?"

"Will the restaurant have chicken?" she repeated.

Her mother lovingly ruffled her raven black tousled hair, "It probaby will"

At that moment, Johnny ran into the kitchen, "There's a man and woman police outside the gate"

"What did I tell you about fibbing, Johnny?" Monica pulled his stool out.

"But there is! They say that it is important and that I need to get a grown up!" He grabbed her wrist, tugging her to the door.

Amidst her confusion, she didn't notice Roshni leaping off of her stool, ready to bolt out amd answer the door.

But a second later she took action, "Stay here! They're probably inquiring about car tax or something"

But in her head, she was panicking. For the law only ever got involved when the safety of Freddie's family was being breached.

At the studio...

"I can't bloody walk in these stilts. Can't we change them?!"

"We will try and find shorter ones then" the head costume designer spoke through gritted teeth, for Freddie Mercury's diva demands were getting on her nerves.

The singer plopped himself into the chair in front of the dressing room mirror, and Phoebe bent down to Freddie's feet to untie his high heels. The fans in the corner and the air conditioning were ineffective in cooling the dressing room down from the head emitted by the large amount of costume and make-up assistants swarming around and tending to the band in costume.

"Why can't I shave my moustache off for it? If I am playing a woman today and a ballet-dancing faun tomorrow why can't I just shave the damn thing off now?" he took a drag of his cigarette and placed it on the ashtray.

"Because it makes it funny if it's there" Roger called from his seat next to him, adjusting the boater on his head .

"This drag thing is all your doing!" he spat.

"Dom's idea, not mine" The drummer corrected him with a smug grin, "I thought that you'd love this whole 'drag thing', Fred. The name 'Queen' was your idea all those years ago after all"

"Not with the bloody moustache on. I just don't feel like a woman" Freddie looked back at his refelction crititcally as assitants tended to either side of him, clipping large punk earrings onto his lobes and winging out his eye makeup.

"I must say, you make a very fabulous lady" Phoebe chuckled nervously as he leaned against the dressing table.

"Oh Phoebe, I've been robbed of whole afternoon with my children for this! I was so looking forward to it!" He whined, "I don't even watch Corination Street!"

"You actually wanted to spend time with your children? That's something new" Phoebe thought, glancing over to John Deacon who silently shrugged back at him in the corner.

"This is your penance for making us walk around in that cold hall wearing medeival garb last week" Roger

Before Freddie had time to defend his vision of It's A Hard Life, Brian returned from the food van outside with his arms full of brown paper bags, rollers in his hair, "Food!"

"Oh, thank fuck for that!" He perked up a bit as the guitarist started disributing take out boxes filled with chips.

Phoebe got back onto his feet as the head costume designer came back in with the shoes in her hands, thinking "I hope to god that his mood improves after this"

After all, he had something that he badly wanted to say to his boss, and he didn't want to do it when he was in a grouchy mood.

Back at Garden Lodge...

"Please know that the matter is being taken care of and that the solicoters of the primary home owner will be in touch by the end of the day to discuss pressing charges" The female police officer reassured Monica as she sat numbly on the settee in the piano room, Johnny and Roshni playing in the corner as ordered by their mother.

Freddie's flat in Stafford Terrace had been broken into, and while nothing had been robbed a neighbour next door had telephoned a noise complaint and the police broke in to find a disturbed induvidual trying on Freddie's old clothes left for storage in the old master bedroom. The officers made it clear that the man was now under police custody, but Freddie cared a great deal about his privacy and knowing that such news of his secondary address being tracable to the public would come as a disturbig blow to him. What was worse was that the officers strongly advised that Monica told Freddie immediately, and not to get the two small children into a panic.

"We have secured the premisise for detective work to take place. In the meantime is there anything else we can do for you?" the secondary officer offered.

The young woman voluntarily shook her head, "Thank you for informing me... I-I suppose all that's left to do is to break the news."

"Well, in that case, all the best" she heard them say.

She barely heard them shut the door on their way out as she pictured what kind of state her former home that she had made so many wonderful memories was in; the back window broken, perhaps a few antiques hastily smashed on the floor that Freddie's insurance didn't cover, clothes strewn all across the carpet. She was thankful that she moved all her possessions out in time because she didn't trust them being alone with the aquaintances that Freddie would often lend his flat to when there waas no room in the house or the mews for them to stay over in after parties.

But she gathered enough strength to think straight, getting up onto her feet an fixing the legs of her baby pink candy-striped playsuit, "Alright, you two. We're going to see daddy"

They cheered in unison and clambered onto their feet, running over to their mother.

Relieved that they didn't suspect anything wrong, she went into the kitchen to grab her bag with her car keys.

*****

At the studio...

"Freddie, stop dry-humping the bannister and just go up the stairs!" David Mallett, the promotional video director, ordered as soon as the track for I want to Break Free in the background came to a halt.

John and Roger, as well as the crew on set just cackled in their spots, whilst Brian kept a straight face, his nose stuck in the prop retro domestic lifestyle magazine.

"Oh, but there are no children present!" He defended, flashing a bit of the garter from his stockings.

"Glad to see you're in a good mood at last!" Roger called to him huskily.

"Yeah, but there will be children watching and we have a reputation to protect," Jim Beach said, "You don't want MTV to do what it did to Body Language, do you?"

The band looked over to John slouched on the sofa in his aging make up and old lady attire, "It's their loss if they pull it off the air"

"I swear, if Reagan's farts ban this video we're not touring over there" Freddie thought to himself, watching as the technical team set up again upon the assistant director's orders for the next take.

After all, Monica was getting busier and the twins were getting older, and he wanted to be within reach of them despite commercial success.

"Resume your positions" The assistant director ordered.

Freddie climbed down the steps, feather duster in hand, and toddled back into the kitchen part of the set and to the camera.

"Lights?" The assistant director called out.

"Speed" The technicians replied.

The camera operator nodded, "Camera's rolling"

The set looked to the young runner with the clapperboard, patiently waiting.

"Well, mark it!" The assistant director hissed.

"God, why do they always hire interns?" Freddie thought, feet aching in his high shoes as he hung his head low.

"Mark it!" The AD repeated, " We need to run the sound!"

"But I can hear something..." the runner listened closely, for he swore he could hear the sound of arguing.

The studio stood still when squeals of laughter echoed across the set, and a loud smash sounded as two small children scrambled into frame. Crew members cleared the corner where there was now a back light laying smashed on the floor.

"Oh fuck no..." Freddie watched as Johnny and Roshni weaved their way around the 1950s furniture which John and Brian leapt off of in surprise as the director yelled cut.

Monica ignored the studio secretary nagging behind her about 'barging in without permission' and pushed her way through the startled crew, Phoebe rushing to her side, a look of horror and embarrassment on her face.

Freddie's eyes met hers as she stared back at him like a deer in the headlights, the assistant director screaming for somebody to occupy Johnny and Roshni who were now cackling at their daddy's new getup.

Phoebe came running onto the set and grabbed them both in time, and a runner shouted, "This back light is smashed!"

David stood up and called out, "Alright, take a break and clear up!"

Freddie threw down his feather duster down, marching over to her, but before he had time to reprimand Monica for having such a bad grip on them her words put him to a standstill.

"The old flat on Stafford Terrace has been broken into!"

He froze on the spot, face contorting from fury to shock as everyone close by slowly stood up off their seats.

He barely heard peoples' sympathetic words as he felt their hands push him off set and out from under the bright studio lights and interior. All he could do was reassess everything he currently had in the life he'd built, protected, lived for...

*****

"Jim is telephoning the solicitors now... then he's going to sort out the fine for the backlight" Monica put her hand on top of Freddie's as they sat alone silently  in the dressing room, his wig and statement earrings now off, whilst Phoebe and the crew kept Johnny and Roshni occupied in the studio.

He didn't flinch, just stared into the corner of the room piled with more costumes, still shaken.

She cautiously repeated, "Freddie, the police caught him. It's okay-"

"No it's not, Monica!" He interrupted, "My god, I knew that publicity shoot with that german music magazine all those years ago would come back to bite me in the arse..."

"Well, at least where we are now has better security" she tried to relieve him.

"What about the children?! He'll be coming for them next!" He sighed.

"I think he's more enfatuated with you if he was trying on your clothes" she said.

"Thanks a lot, I have a stalker. That makes me feel loads better!" he scoffed.

"Freddie, for the last time, it's being handled-"

"It's alright for you, isn't it! You're not the one paying for everything we have!" He spat across her.

The moment he said it, he saw her look away. Her expression was still calm and flat as it had been throughout their conversation. But then her blue eyes began to glisten, and as if to give up she exhaled and got onto her feet.

She swallowed, "...You know, for someone who's been trying to gain a little independence ever since she moved here to be with the man she loves, that hurt to hear"

He watched through the reflection of the dressing table in remorse as she walked out of the room with her back to him.

She was probably going to find a toilet to brake down in. She always tried to cry alone without him watching if she could help it.The last thing she ever wanted to be was an inconvenience.

He breathed sharply through his nostrils, reaching for the packet of cigarettes and the nearest lighter.

It was going to smudge his lipstick but he didn't care, for the wardrobe department had been getting on his nerves all day long by putting him in the wrong colour wig and shoes that were impossible to walk around in.

He didn't see the rushes either, but he was sure that what they'd shot was already fine due to the amount of takes they'd been taking since the morning.

There was a quiet ratatat on the dressing room door moments after he lit his cigarette, "Uhm, Freddie?"

He lifted his head to see Phoebe standing in the doorway looking uneasy as he figited with his hands.

"Leave it  be, Phoebe. I will sort it out later" he dismissed him, assuming he saw Monica pass by in a state.

"Sort what out? I thought that Jim was taking care of the break-in"

"Oh, well in that case, what is it?" Freddie got up off his seat.

Phoebe loked right and left to make sure he was alone, then murmured, "I need to ask something of you"

"Well, of course Phoebe. You want me to increase your wages, right? Ahh, I should've known that I wasn't paying you enough-"

"No, not at all-"

"I might do it when the album goes on sale and the income gets a bit more stable-"

He interjected, "No, no! This is a just a small-"

"I have told you that I'm thinking of doing a solo album next year after the upcoming tour, havent I?" Freddie chattered away, trying to distract from the topic of Monica, "Since the boys and I are thinking of taking a break to do our own thing that'll earn a bit more bob on the side-"

"It's not money, I just want the evening off!" Phoebe breathed.

"Oh... an evening off..." he dreaded the thought of being alone with his family in the house due to current circumstances.

He continued, "I was going to ask you, but then news of the break in-"

"What do you want the evening off for anyway?" Freddie listed off, "A date? A family member dying-"

"A date! I have a date!" Phoebe let out, "There, that's all!"

Of course Freddie was alarmed. To him, Phoebe wasn't what he'd call conventionally attractive on the surface with his tubby build, nor did he have the time to or any interest in dating since he was working for him and his family.

Freddie's voice was reduced to a whisper as he gushed, "What's his name? Is he handsome? What does he do?"

"His name is Lewis, he works behind the tabaccoo counter down at the Tesco on Warick Road," Phoebe described, blushing, "He's been working there a few months now and we say hello every now and then"

"The burly one with the frosted tips? He's... gay?" Freddie leaned closer.

Phoebe shrugged, "Apparently so. I went to buy your cigarettes this morning on the way over and he asked me if I'd be interested in grabbing drinks."

"I say!" Freddie winked, then murmured, "Oh, why didn't you say so sooner?"

"...Because I thought you'd laugh" Phoebe hesitantly admitted.

"Oh, what a load of nonsense. How could I laugh?" Freddie scoffed, then pat his shoulder, "I know that I give you weight-gain jibes now and then but any fellow would be lucky to have you"

The man, feeling flattered, giggled, "You think so?"

"Phoebe, the best thing about you is your loyalty. You're devoted to my family and I..."

Freddie trailed off, a wistful twinkle in his eyes as he looked back at his reflection in the mirror.

He continued, "And in fact, you're probably a better father figure to Johnny and Roshni than I ever will be."

"Oh Fred, that isn't true..." Phoebe said.

Freddie stared back at himself silently, still in his drag makeup and fake bosoms under his pastel pink vest, before looking back at his assistant, "But enough about me! This is about you! What were you going to wear?"

"Just my dinner jacket," he answered, looking down at his red and black chequered dinner jacket, "If I have time to get to my flat."

Freddie suddenlly grabbed a fine-toothed comb from one of the dressing table caddies, and a pot of hair gel, "Well, at least let me neaten you up if that's all you'll be wearing"

"Don't worry, I will be wearing clothes underneath it" Phoebe joked along.

They shared a chuckle, before Freddie stood up and gestured him to sit down in his seat.

"But boss, you really don't need to get me ready" Phoebe humbly pleaded.

"I insist, it's only a little bit of gel and you're sorted. Anything to take my mind off of the break in, now sit!" Freddie pointed at his chair a bit more forcefully.

"I suppose you're going to do your signature slick-back on me" He oblidged and sat down.

"That, I will. It's a versatile 'do, I must say" Freddie reached down to start undoing the buckles of his shoes as another knock on the door sounded.

They both turned their heads to see John Deacon, Brian May, and Roger Taylor standing just outside the door, still in their attire of the opposite gender. Only aspects of their costumes, such as their accessories were missing, such as Deaky's fox scarf, Roger's boater and Brian's bunny slippers.

"Am I needed on set again?" Freddie dropped what was in his hands and grabbed his wig sitting on the stand.

John came forward, a finger up to his lips, and whispered, "You should come out and see what's happening out there"

He looked to Brian and Roger who were suppressing snickers, then frantically set the wig on his head and staggered out, Phoebe and the rest of the band in tow.

Through the double doors at the end of the corridor that led to the studio he could see the crew gathered around and in the way of something.

Silently but quickly, Freddie rushed to the set, weaving his way through the now beaming crew to find the domestic setup where Johnny and Roshni were sitting at the table on the left hand corner and having a tea party, surrounded by camera operators crouched down behind the yellow line of tape marking the floor at different angles, one of them being Monica.

"We thought that they needed occupied" Roger whispered in his ear.

John followed, "We had some time on our hands"

Freddie felt his heart melt as he watched his two children having an improvised conversation, much like the make believe or pretend play that they'd have when they were in school or at home:

"Do you like my new hat? I got it as a present from the Queen of England" Roshni flounced the boater on her head that Roger loaned her.

Johnny pretended to sip from his cup of tea and exclaimed, "The Queen of England!?"

"Yes! And she gave me these fabulous pink earrings to go with it!" she pointed to her ears.

"That's nothing!" Johnny leapt up off his seat, pointing to the white rabbit slippers on his feet and throwing the end of the fox scarf around his neck, "The Queen gave me these for my birthday"

"My present from her is better than yours! You're wearing dead animals on your neck and feet!" Roshni folded her arms, pretending to get cross, and it was then that a few crew members silently chuckled.

It was then that he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see the director David Mallett by his side, whispering, "You have two bright little children"

Freddie briefly set his eyes back on Johnny and Roshni who were now settling their debate with a refill of imaginary tea from the pot.

"I appreciate you breaking the schedule and directing them in their own mini film" Freddie whispered back as he watched on.

"Oh, it's not me that's directing!" David told him.

His brows furrowed, "Then who is?"

The director answered, hushed, "Monica, your wife! She just told them both to pretend to have a tea party and told all the camera men where to stand"

Freddie was too engrossed to correct him at that second, watching as she squinted into the eyepiece in deep concentration, another technician by her side to operate the industry-standard equipment for her. It looked as natual as her shooting home videos back in Garden Lodge using the Super 8 he got her for her birthday the year before, just on a more professional and higher budget.

"My god, she looks like she belongs there" he whispered to himself.

"Sorry?" David piped up.

Freddie stuttered, "...She never told me that she knew how to-well, I suppose it's that job of hers"

"What does she do?" David asked.

"She works as a script supervisor mainly... for an American that is commisioned to direct and produce adverts" He replied, watching as slowly traced her kids as they paced to and fro on the set.

He felt someone gently nudge him, and looked over.

"What do you say we break the fourth wall, eh?" Roger wore a playful grin as John and Brian's eyes lit up, "Let's get our stuff back"

With a smirk, Freddie pushed his way to the front and suddenly boomed, "I AM THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND AND I WANT MY EARRINGS BACK!"

John followed, "And I want my fox back!"

Johnny and Roshni squealed and left off their chairs as the camera lenses swung across to the members of Queen as they ambushed the set, setting off complete pandemonium.

"This should be fun for the editors" Monica thought as she and the camera operators cleared back, and the studio erupted with laughter as the musicians in drag chased the two small children though the house until they caught them.

"Alright, CUT!" Monica called

Freddie lay exasperated, collapsed onto the sofa and laughing breathlessly as he felt a pair of small hands snatch his wig off.

As his children continued to rush about within the on-set commotion, his eyes briefly locked with Monica'sas she passed the camera back over to its operator.

But her smile faded, and she turned away joylessly, disappearing into the gathering of the crew as he remebered what he said earlier.

"This day seems to be getting my hopes up" he thought sadly.

*****

The ride back home was awkward and silent, excpt for Johnny and Roshni eagrly asking and asking when 'their movie' was going to be ready, no matter how many times Monica had to try and explain post-production to them from the driver's seat. By the time they'd gotten back to Garden Lodge, the balmy evening had rolled around, so they moved out into the garden where the sunbeds were to catch the end of the day.

And what an exhausting day the two small children had, for Johnny was resting against Monica's chest, cradled in the safety of his mother's arms, mouth hung open in peace...

However long peace lasted.

"Hey! Turn that off!" Freddie barked as his daughter aimed the head of the garden hose at her daddy.

Roshni giggled, backing further away from him as he grumbled every time she pulled the trigger.

"Roshni, put that down and come over here!" Monica lifted her head and called out.

Freddie furiously turned the tap off at the wall as Roshni went to her mum on the sun bed, "I don't understand why she has to spray it at me and then run off like that!"

Monica reached over and rubbed her daughter's head, "She just wants you to chase after her. It's her way of showing you she loves you."

"Why can't she just come to me for a hug then?" He lifted a towel up off the other sun bed, patting his vest and splattered red shorts dry a little.

"She does want a hug from you, Fred. She just doesn't want to be the one to give it first" Monica lowered her voice as Johnny began to stir.

"Well, whenever I do want to give her affection she just runs off!" He muttered, watching as his daughter circled the sun bed before putting his aviators back on.

"Chase after her then" Monica ordered gently.

"Right!" He smirked and stormed over, now out of his drag makeup and tight leather skirt he was able to run properly. And knowing what she was getting into, Roshni screamed and scrambled across the grass.

Monica shook her head chuckling, watching Freddie march quickly after his daughter, "All you two need is the Benny Hill theme and it's perfect!"

Eventually, the silk sash from Roshni's pink kimono, or 'princess dress' as she liked to call it, went undone and slipped out, causing her to trip and tumble forward.

"HA! I GOT YOU NOW!" He roared as he at last swooped her up off the grass.

"Nice to see you two getting along" Monica watched as he carried his squealing little girl over to the sun bed next to hers.

Freddie lowered himself and adjusted Roshni in his arms "You make that sound like we're siblings"

"Well, you do treat them like that sometimes" she rubbed Johnny's head continuously as he quietly snored.

The man grumbled, and bounced his daughter on his knee gently.

"Where's Feebs?" Roshni settled on her father's lap.

Freddie and Monica awkwardly looked at each other, for they hadn't ever explained homosexuality to their children and, in a conservative society like Great Britain was at the time, they didn't know how to in such a way that Johnny and Roshni would go to school and start asking their teacher questions. What didn't help matters was Freddie's own sexual orientation, and the reputation that the press had built around him.

"Why, Phoebe's out darling" Freddie cradled her.

"Doing what?" She looked back up at him for an answer.

He froze where he sat, staring into space as he tried to think up a reply.

Monica couldn't take the hesitancy anymore, "He's out having dinner with a man"

"Ohhh" disinterested, Roshni climbed up off of Freddie's lap and skipped back onto the grass.

He looked back at Monica with a look of gratitude, murmuring, "That was straightforward"

She shrugged, "Adolf Hitler did once say that children are like empty tanks"

He scoffed, "You're not going to start an oppressive regime any time soon, are you?"

She giggled, "No, I'm just quoting something that I remembered from history class. Why?"

"Because if you are, I certainly hope that one of your policies will be that those two nippers -"

"Enough, Fred. You really behave like a toddler around them"

"Are you saying I'm as bad as them?!"

"Oh course not! Well, you're both bad in your own ways-"

"I'm not the one who smashed a bloody backlight today!" He suddenly snapped.

Monica looked away, "I was just trying to cheer you up"

Freddie was left feeling even more guilty than before, watching as she silently pressed her lips against their son's head.

He solemly reached over and put his hand on her arm, and thankfully she didn't draw away.

"You were wonderful today..." he let out, "you stayed strong for the both of them and then you went out there and managed the set like a pro"

She still sat silently, biting her bottom lip hard to keep herself together as she rubbed Johnny's head.

"I'm sorry for being such a grouchy arsewipe today..." he continued, "The break-in is no excuse for my attitude and I realise that-"

He stopped when he thought that Monica was crying, but what he thought was sobbing turned out to be snickering, which turned into laughter.

"What is it?" he pulled his hand back, "Monica?!"

"Arsewipe? Where did you get  that one from?" she managed to ask through her fit of giggles.

"Oh, I thought I made you cry!" he rolled his eyes.

"It's okay, you are forgiven." she reached over and took his hand earnestly.

He gave hers a small, loving squeeze in response, and they both watched their daughter play on the grass.

"What do you think Roshni's doing?" He murmured.

"She's making a daisy chain, I can see her hands from here."

"My god, this lawn needs mowed before it turns into a meadow." His other arm reached down and he grazed the long grass.

"I'll do it tomorrow if it's dry" Monica offered.

"Let Phoebe do it, it's a man's job after all."

"Says you who dressed like a woman today!" She scoffed playfully.

"You caught me, dearie" he shook his head.

"...It's going to be so strange seeing you without your moustache after so long," she mused, "Kissing you will be just like old times"

"Yeah, well don't get too used to it." He muttered, "I'm growing it back as soon as I can, just before tour starts up"

"Fair enough... you still behave like a toddler with it on though" she smirked, and tightened her hold around Johnny.

Before he could think of a decent comeback, Roshni ran back over to his sun bed with a daisy chain in her hand.

"Oh hello," he hauled her back up onto his lap, "What's this, darling?"

"For you!" She reached up and placed the daisy chain on his head.

"A flower crown? How lovely, thank you" he kissed her little nose affectionately as she giggled.

"Suits you!" Monica grinned.

He looked over and stuck his tongue out at her.

Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, "No manners in this house"

"That's why I call it the whore house" Freddie proudly stated.

"Freddie!" Monica hissed, glancing to their daughter sitting inches away from him.

"What's whore?" Roshni squeaked.

"Great, now look what you did" Monica tutted

"Ask your teacher when you go back to school" Freddie answered.

She shot him an irritated look, then felt her stomach rumble, "Anyway, I think we should get something to eat"

"Pizza!" Roshni interjected.

"I don't want to get it from anywhere that does deliveries" Freddie anxiously looked at the front gate, for his trust in the security and privacy of his house had been bruised.

"It's alright, I can drive in and pick it up" Monica got back onto her feet and laid her napping son on her sun bed, and Roshni cheered and hopped out of her dad's arms.

She ran indoors, and just as Monica was about to head inside for the menu Freddie spoke:

"...I wish it didn't happen so close to august... What if that man does something to you all when I'm away?"

That, she couldn't answer. She turned around, and behind the dark lenses she could see the vulnerable look in his eyes that he always had when he was anxious.

"Freddie, he is obviously a disturbed induvidual. Your lawyer said that the probability of him being locked away from the world is very high." She softly explained.

He silently pat his thighs, and she lowered herself onto his lap.

"You know how hard I find it to build my trust again," He put his arms around her waist, "I don't even know how you can forgive me after what happened at your birthday last year..."

The mention of the Lenny incident always made her wince, even if it was months gone by.

She looked down sullenly, "I'm glad you're still aware of your actions"

She felt him take her right hand in his, and smoothe his thumb gently across her palm where the faded scar from the broken glass was dashed across her palm.

"Imagine what a palmist would have to say if he or she ever read your hand" he stared at her open palm intently.

"I can't even begin to imagine" she chuckled gently.

"Let them judge" he pulled her wrist to his face and gently kissed her scar.

"Freddie!" she giggled as his lips moved up her bare arms and to her neck, "If you're hungry, why don't you come inside and order pizza for dinner?!"

"Can I have you for dinner?" he gently dug his teeth into her elegant long neck.

She shrieked his name, then gently pushed him back and firmly told him, "Tonight if we get them to bed on time."

He purred, letting her hand slip away from his, "As long as I get you to bed on time"

She felt her stomach do summersaults as she walked back into the house that warm evening.