"Well, I can safely say, that was a hell of a ride," Peter remarked, stifling a yawn. "Hopefully we won't have to do it again."

The five of us were standing in the lobby of the Sahara Hotel and Casino. Elton John and Mr. Holmes had split from the group and chose another place of lodging- Caesar's Palace or the International. One of those; I remember Elton having a hard time deciding between the two.

Having unloaded our luggage (Freddie and I had combined our things into one suitcase), we had ridden down to the Strip. I was crashing hard by this point, to the degree that I wasn't really taking in much of the glitter sparkling in this desert oasis. While I would have been content to spend the night in some twenty-dollar motel, Freddie of course had higher standards- but this evening, not so high as to be picky. He was tired, too. We pulled into the first casino I said "Oh, wow" at- namely, the Sahara.

The concierge recognized Freddie right off, but before he could launch into fan mode, Freddie put a finger to his lips. Luckily, this gentleman was no Officer Freeling. He nodded and formed an "okay" sign with his fingers. It was nearly ten o'clock and Las Vegas had only just begun to wake up; to cry "Freddie Mercury" in a crowded resort lobby would not have made things any easier.

Peter, Paul, and Rudy checked in after us, so I don't know how they set their rooms up. As for us, Freddie requested a tower room with two beds. When I realized we were going to spend the night together, again I fretted I would be hampering his fun. Supposing he should desire more than a kiss good night this evening? Regardless of what I wanted to do to him deep down inside, I was hardly the one who could deliver- and I'm pretty sure there's nothing particularly kinky about having sex while five feet away lies a girl who is trying to get some sleep, and is most likely covering her ears to shut out the moans and groans and the winded exclamations about how masterful the moves are.

I leaned up and whispered quickly, "Freddie, don't worry about me, I can figure some-"

Freddie turned with a weary look in his eyes. Okay, I'll shut up now. Sorry.

Once we were all squared away, Freddie gave Rudy a few last-minute instructions. "...If you would please be ready for my call by around nine-thirty, that would be great," I overheard him say.

We said goodnight to the three other fellows. Rudy smiled when I told him I'd see him in the morning. I'd never seen him smile before. Peter even gave me a little hug; I was beginning to get the impression he felt rather friendly towards me as well.

Or maybe we were all just happy to be alive after that godforsaken flight.

With the bellboy coming up behind us, Freddie and I took the elevator to the twelfth floor. We went a few steps down a hallway that could have inspired The Shining, then Freddie unlocked our room. His silence was beginning to chafe at me. I couldn't tell if it was mild shock or severe embarrassment, but either way it was making me very uncomfortable.

However, he wasn't quiet for much longer. One look at our accommodations decided that. It was a comfortable, nice-sized room, for sure, with red and gold wallpaper, heavy curtains flanking a balcony that overlooked the Las Vegas Strip, with a little kitchen table setup by the window where we could have tea (and coffee, GOOD coffee) tomorrow morning. Against the wall stood an armoire which I found out later concealed a box television; on the desk sat a brochure with the number for the front desk, the room service menu, and a binder full of suggestions for fun and frolic in Sin City.

But the room lacked one very important detail.

"What the- That f---ing twat!" he shouted. "I said, TWO! Not ONE!"

I cringed. He could be quite loud when he wanted to be. But there it was: one king-sized bed and a sofa sitting there as nicely as you please. Honestly, I didn't care. I was absolutely whipped. Jet-lag is nobody's friend; my only wish was to slip into my pajamas and crawl into bed. Taking the time to make a big deal out of one and a half beds sounded incredibly unappealing.

"Well," I ventured cheerfully, "I guess the sofa could be the second bed-"

"But that's not what I f---ing asked for! That g--d--- idiot Yank."

I swallowed a reminder that I was a Yank myself. "Freddie, it's okay, I can take the sofa."

But compromise struck a sour note with Freddie. He wanted that concierge's blood, and he wanted it now. "The hell you will. Where's the phone? I'll fix this."

"Freddie, stop."

He whirled and looked at me. I blinked. I hadn't meant to sound so firm; if I had, I probably would have overdone it, and I too would have earned Freddie's ire. But he, though still quite miffed, was listening.

"Please," I added. In supplication, I took his hand. "It's only for one night, right? I like sleeping on the sofa anyway."

Freddie huffed. "I didn't bring you all the way out here to make you sleep on a sofa."

"I'm just telling you, it's not a big deal. I do not mind. I promise."

Freddie rubbed his eyes, shoulders sagging, and let out a deep sigh through his nose. To my knowledge, I don't think Freddie took a single moment to rest since we had awakened after the Heatwave episode. Obviously he didn't really want to go through the rigmarole of changing rooms because of a bed mix-up; he looked more exhausted than I felt.

"All right," he muttered. "If it's really going to be such a hassle, you take the bed, and I'll make do with-"

"No way!"

"Yes way. You will not sleep on the sofa."

"But-"

"No buts. If we're keeping this room, you're taking the bed."

"I don't want the bed!"

"You don't want the bed," he repeated. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier? We could have just stayed in the airport and slept there, saved ourselves some time and money."

"Oh, come on, that's absurd."

"Who needs a hotel? Let's just sleep outside-"

"Good God! Why don't we just frickin' share the bed and be done with it?" I blurted.

Freddie's brows rose. Oh, dang. I hadn't meant for it to sound that way. But I couldn't hem and haw out of this now. The question was posed.

And it had caught him completely off guard. He forgot to be smug, and instead was reduced to bashful stammering. "You, um," he said, almost shyly, "you- wouldn't mind too much?"

My mouth went dry. That wasn't a superstar's response; that wasn't typical Freddie Mercury. Typical Farrokh Bulsara, perhaps, but certainly not Freddie. I had nothing to work with. I cleared my throat, the blood rushing up into my cheeks. "I mean, we've already done that, more or less, haven't we? Slept next to each other, I mean."

"I suppose we have," he purred.

I could hardly believe we were having this conversation. "And um, uh, yeah. So, would that be okay with you? I know you might have, uh, wanted to go find somebody to, uh, enjoy, but it was just an idea."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. I'm just saying."

"I'm ready to go to sleep, if it's all the same to you. So personally, I'd rather stick around tonight."

"Oh, good. Great. Well, then, perfect. I just need you to promise me-"

"I won't touch you," Freddie murmured- a bit sadly, I thought. "I promise."

"Wow," I said. "You really do know me."

"I know that look," he whispered.

"What look?"

"The 'Hands Off' look."

"What look is that?"

"The one where your eyes get as big as golf balls- and your cheeks turn red- and you can't string three sound words together without stuttering about." He sighed again. "My dearest Evie. What are you afraid of? What are you, of all people, afraid of?"

Me, of all people? What's he mean?

"Are you feeling all right?" I asked him.

"You are truly the artful dodger," Freddie muttered, his eyes hardening in frustration. "I'm clearly still not getting anywhere, so let's just cut this out tonight."

Before I could reply, there was a knock at the door. "Bellboy! Got your stuff!"

"Cut this out," we did. Till we slipped between the sheets, Freddie had nothing else to say to me. He was nice enough to let me get dressed, brush my teeth and whatnot first, but when I opened the door to let him take his turn he pushed past me without a word, eyes lowered, his body rigid. I wondered if he was regretting this trip now. Maybe he wishes he'd stayed on with the band; there's so much they probably accomplished today, and he wasn't there to offer his all-important opinion.

After setting my contacts on the nightstand, I plugged the Android into the wall behind the comfy chair and shut it down. Stepping carefully, I felt my way over to the window to draw the curtains. Just outside, the Sahara sign was lit, but my weak eyes only made out a hazy blob of lettering.

"Good night, Desert World," I whispered. "See you for real in the morning."

I drew back the covers and lay down, waiting for Freddie. I turned out the lamp on my side. Quietly I listened to him knock about in the next room. The longer he took, the faster my stomach began to turn.

The bathroom door opened. I looked up. He strolled into my hazy view, casually pulling his shirt off over his head. Without realizing it I bit my lip. I couldn't even see his face and he was making me shake.

Freddie folded the shirt up and set it aside. Thankfully, he had decided to forego his habit of sleeping in the nude and kept the pair of shorts on. Then he turned his eyes upon me. For many minutes he just stood and stared, and it was left up to my imagination what his expression might be. What was there to stare at, anyway? Just me without makeup, in my very self-conscious, button-down striped pajamas. Nothing too engrossing, for sure.

Then he crept over to his side of the bed. I watched him stretch out under the covers, then reach over and turn off the light on his side. Now the room was completely black. Freddie rustled around a bit more, let out a little contented "hmm..." as he situated himself. What cute little sounds he made; I rolled over onto my back, but kept my head turned and facing away from him in an effort not to let him see me smiling so broadly. At last he found his spot, and stopped moving.

The silence was enough to choke an elephant. Not three inches away I could feel the warmth of his body; this big king size bed and he still lay so close to me, so close I could detect that delicious scent of licorice which hung about him.

"Good night, Freddie," I said at last. My eyes having adjusted to the dark, I looked back at him, more than half-hoping for a gentle kiss - or at least a returned "Sweet dreams" or something like that.

In the dark I saw his eyes were still open and focused on the ceiling. He was lying on his back, his lips relaxed, his upturned hand laying limp against his pillow. Freddie turned his head after a moment. Our eyes met; this I knew even as dark as the room was.

That's when he lifted himself up onto his elbow and leaned over me, laying his hand softly against the side of my face. His breathing sounded so odd; it wasn't heavy and sensual, exactly, but it seemed uncomfortable, as though there was something wrapped around his lungs restricting every inhale and exhale. I smiled at him, unsure of what else to do. His hand slid down and touched my lips. I never knew my mouth was so sensitive, but just the soft caress of his electric fingertips sent such a thrill through my limbs. I began kissing the fingers still stroking my face. Freddie had promised to keep his hands off, and yet here I was, egging him on.

Fingers are nice, Freddie, but I want your lips- for starters, anyway, said someone in my head that definitely was not me.

Now he leaned closer in, pressing his forehead against mine. His eyes closed. I let out a little involuntary sigh, and nuzzled my nose against his in a sort of Eskimo kiss. I wondered just how much further I was going to let this continue.

Then I felt something pressing against my hip. I assumed it was his leg, but I wasn't really paying attention until suddenly his eyes snapped open again. Freddie's jaw clenched, and he tore his hand away.

"You f---ing tease!" he snarled.

Before I realized what was happening, Freddie had thrown back the covers and leaped out of the bed.

"F--- this!" he cried hoarsely.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

He gave no reply. Instead, Freddie snatched up his pillow, tore the duvet off the bed. Without another word, moving very stiffly, he stormed out of sight. Still carrying the comforter and the pillow, he marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.

I was so confused. What did I do? And what's he doing?

After a few more minutes of rustling around, he turned out the bathroom light, but he didn't come out. I heard one more "F---" escape, and all was again still. Suddenly I knew what was happening. And I covered my mouth.

Seriously, Freddie? What are you trying to prove by sleeping in the bathtub?

But two could play this game. I climbed out of the bed, a lot less grand now that Freddie had literally taken all the blankets, and laid down on the sofa. I fluffed my pillow and sprawled out across the cushion. My body was too long for it, so I curled up in an almost fetal position. So we went from both in the bed to neither, all because Freddie started touching my face. My cheeks flushing, I realized what I had been feeling a moment ago.

NFO: It apparently takes almost nothing to arouse him.

We're tired, I told myself, and we had a bad experience on the plane- especially Freddie. We'll be better tomorrow. I hope.

My eyes closed, and I drifted away. Ah, yes, it's you again, magenta mist. Okay, let's get the dream over with...

***********************************************************************************************

My eyes opened after a good hard sleep. I felt rested and ready for another day of conning my way through life. Not to say I didn't have my earthquake dream, because I did. But I'd been through it so often, it had become less and less the stuff of nightmares. Now I was interested to see what would happen next. In case my little depictions of my fog dream are beginning to rub you raw, feel free to skip it. For those of you who don't mind, here it comes:

The first part, where Freddie was preparing to absolutely have his way with me, hadn't altered any. But now I found the scene incredibly hot, while on the Starship I had been mortified at myself for dreaming something like that up (Mr. Mercury, look what you've done to me). Then he and the Relic flew over the edge, like before. But then, everything around me paused, and the phone and Freddie hung suspended in mid-air.

The Relic was much closer to me than Freddie was; the shock hadn't projected it quite as far. On the other side, Freddie was holding his hand out to me. Surprisingly, I saw no fear in his eyes even though the chances of me catching him so far out were slim, if not nonexistent. As a matter of fact, he was smiling, inviting me to join him tumbling into the bottomless pit below.

I had a choice.

But before I could make it, I woke up.

Really, what a foolish dream this was becoming. The Relic was gone! It made no sense to keep dreaming about it like it was still a factor. But I also couldn't see myself jumping in with Freddie only to plunge to my death or whatever lay waiting at the bottom.

Nevertheless, the dream was grossly insignificant. It was the real-life Freddie I had to contend with now.

Half-blindness only possessed so much charm; I popped my contacts back in, smiling as everything resharpened, then padded over to the bathroom door. Through the cracks I could see the light was on. I hoped poor Freddie had slept well. This notorious sex maniac, this fey rock god, this beautiful, gifted mess of a man, reduced to something only mere commoners did when absolutely necessary. He had the world at his feet, but he chose to sleep in a bathtub (just thinking about it even now makes me giggle). He really didn't have to do all this to himself, and yet he did it.

I raised my fist to the door, but thought better of knocking immediately afterward. I couldn't bear if he was in a foul mood, for I was the only one around he could take it out on. And I was growing so tired of the inconsistency of our relationship. I liked steady fellows, predictable people, like John Deacon. You at least knew what to expect. Yes, challenging people excited me, but in small amounts. Nine days straight I'd been with Freddie. He wore me out- yet not exactly in a bad way. We were friends one minute, then arch-enemies the next, then absolute best friends in the very next- only to decide we actually hated each other until the next moment when we decided we couldn't stand to be apart any longer.

"He's magic and myth," I heard myself singing. "As strong as what I believe..."

The clock on the nightstand said it was twenty minutes after six. We're up so early! I guess maybe neither of us is comfortable enough to sleep in. We're here in Vegas for one thing anyway. The earlier we get this show on the road, the better.

Drawing back the curtains, I was met with the most breathtaking sunrise I'd ever seen. The palm trees made lovely silhouettes against the scarlet horizon. In the distance, beyond the scattered twenty story casinos, the great red ball of the sun was just peeping over the rocky hills, casting the warm colors across the sky and spilling a few across the sandy ground, putting the neon glare of Las Vegas to shame.

Throwing on my dressing gown, I strolled out onto the balcony, leaving the door open. Spreading my arms out, I laughingly sang at the top of my lungs: "Naaaaaaaaaants ingonyaaaaa-ma baghiti babaaaaaa..."

I had no idea the West was this beautiful. But then again, until I'd crash-landed in 1977 I'd never been east of D.C. or west of San Antonio. I'd seen so much, and it was all thanks to that volatile madman in the next room. Freddie had really outdone himself for me. What for? Why me? What was it about me that made him keep me so close? Was it a self-test? A bet? A-

"Was that a call to prayer or something?"

Speak of the devil. I turned to see a robe-clad Freddie standing behind me.

My own face turned as red as the rising sun. "Oh, you heard that?"

"Yeah, me and the rest of Nevada," he said, coming further out onto the balcony. And it was all I could do not to smile. Not that I didn't want to be friendly. I just knew that if I let myself smile, a fit of laughter would soon follow. In typical Freddie fashion, he was trying to look thoroughly unflappable, which only made the image funnier. He had apparently just finished lathering up to shave when I broke out into the first part of "Circle of Life"; and suave is impossible to be when one is sporting a beard of white foam swirls.

"Good morning," I said. "Look at that sunrise, isn't it divine?"

He nodded. "I saw you slept on the sofa."

"I did." I realized he was totally oblivious to the shaving cream; he'd already forgotten about it. But I couldn't decide whether it would embarrass him more if I mentioned it, than if I didn't, and let him find out on his own.

Freddie folded his arms. "So that bed just sat there empty all night?"

"I guess so," I shrugged.

"So. Pig. Headed."

Oh, really? And you're not? Maybe he could stand to find out under his own steam. Certainly he didn't need me telling him this stuff, me being so stubborn and all...

"Well, I figured since you went to sleep in the bathtub, I could go out of my way to make myself uncomfortable as well. Did you sleep okay, by the way?"

"Not too bad, actually. I may have stumbled on something there. It could be the next trend, who knows." The dark circles under his eyes told a different story, however. Despite the offhand comments, Freddie didn't seem any more relaxed than he had been last night. He put his hands on the rail and slouched. We stood awkwardly side by side, watching the sun come up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied.

"I don't know, just- you got so upset on the plane-"

"I was out of control!" Freddie burst.

"Ah, yes. You are the control freak after all," I teased- but I picked a bad time to be playful.

"Control freak? Really?" Freddie was getting wound up again. "Put yourself in my place. Mortality's never stared me in the face like that- but maybe once before, and that was ages ago. But not like this. My life- your life- everyone's lives in jeopardy because of some loose bolts in the engines. We could have died and it would have been my fault!"

I squinted. "Your fault? What?"

"I pushed for that plane, dear. This whole trip- my idea! If we went down, ultimately, on whose shoulders would the blame fall? Mine! And had you died, your blood would have been on my hands-"

"But Freddie, we didn't go down! Nobody died! We're all r-"

"But we might have!"

"But we didn't! Okay? I told you we wouldn't. Everybody's in one piece, nobody's hurt. Now, please, just take it easy. No more panic attacks."

Freddie sighed and stared down at the brightening ground below. A little ways off shone a crystal Olympics-sized swimming pool, itself surrounded by a soft green lawn, sunning chairs, and umbrellas. It looked like paradise- and would stay that way until the baking sun rose to its highest at noon. That's where I'm headed- as soon as I get this guy under control. I wished I knew what would make Freddie calm down- and didn't involve the nether parts.

Then the "aha" moment struck.

I took a deep breath and said very casually, "Do you know what I've wanted to do to you ever since I got here?"

Out the corner of my eye, very slowly, I saw his head turn to face me. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ever since I met you, there's something I've wanted to do," I replied mysteriously. "Shall I show you what it is?"

"Uh..." Freddie hadn't expected this. I can't tell you how fulfilling it is to throw Freddie Mercury a curveball. I felt like I'd outwitted King Solomon.

"I mean, if you're not curious, that's fine, I was just-"

"Show me."

There it was, that old, unabashed authority! It was a start; I took it gladly.

"Put your head down," I instructed, cracking my knuckles.

"What are you going to-"

"It's a surprise."

Freddie smirked (Good, good! We're smirking now, we're making progress) and lowered his head, so that I could see the faint double crown hidden under the thick black hair.

"Don't hit me, please," he murmured.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just going to scratch you."

Before he could reply, I put my hands in his hair and began to massage his head. Freddie put his hand on the railing and held on. He gave no sign he wasn't enjoying it, so I kept on, letting my fingernails rake gently against his scalp. I wasn't pulling things out of thin air; this was something I'd wanted to do for seven whole years. I'd always thought Freddie had fabulous hair, and I would have given a lot to know what it felt like to put my hands in it and mess it all up.

"Tell me when you want me to stop," I whispered.

"That'll be in another half-hour, just so you understand."

I laughed. "Do you feel better?"

"Some," he said, and smiled. "You know, now that you mention it, there's something I've wanted to do to you as well."

"No kidding."

"Don't be smart. It's not what you think."

"Then-"

"I want to ask you a question."

"Oh, yes?"

He nodded. "Can I lift my head up now?"

"Of course, of course, here." I took my hands out of his soft black locks. Any improvement in Freddie's mood was good news. I'd answer any question he could throw at me if it meant a full recovery from this funk.

"You ready?" he asked, leaning back against the railing.

"Shoot," I declared.

"Right." He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. "So who are you?"

"What?"

"Who are you, Eve? Who are you really?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He wasn't smiling anymore. "Tell me the truth. Where do you come from? Why are you really here with me? Who- no, there's a better way to put it- What are you?"

My insides fluttered. "What am I? Freddie, I'm just a girl-"

"Bullshit." There was no savagery in his voice; only determination. He was on a roll now. He started walking toward me. "Just a girl, my ass. How did you know we wouldn't crash? You just looked at your Magic Mirror and sat back, no fear, nothing."

"I don't-"

"How do you just show up in somebody's flat without fiddling with the lock or breaking a window? Why did you say we wouldn't go down 'like this'? If you don't know shit about me like you said you didn't, why- why would you be so sure?"

"Freddie-"

His voice was getting louder. Not even the shaving cream could detract from his rising power. "What did you see in the Towers that made you cry? What did you see in my hand that made you scream? What's going to happen?"

Feebly I tried one last time. "Listen to me, it was pure coin-"

"Don't LIE! Tell me! Who the f--- are you, Eve?"

TO BE CONTINUED...