Since I had personally just about had it with the tears, my eyes dried up quickly compared to last night.  Or perhaps I simply didn't have any more left to release.  Either way, I stopped crying fairly soon after I locked myself in the green room.  To be safe, I waited until the last guest finally left before I came back.  Since I still didn't want to mess up the bed, I stayed on the floor, Oscar nestled cozily in my lap (shortly after I had dashed upstairs, Oscar came and sat by my door until I let him in).  Funny, but I had stopped sneezing altogether.  I never knew one could grow accustomed to their own allergies.  You can adapt to anything, I suppose, if you're around it long enough.

Fortunately, my little emotional display didn't scare everyone off all at once; I could hear voices downstairs for the next few hours.  At intervals I opened the door to listen and see if the coast was clear, but each and every time I heard talking, laughter, even singing.  Maybe his friends mistook it for some kind of joke, some odd little set-up.  I didn't care how they took it, as long as they (including Freddie) didn't take it seriously.

I toyed with excuses, explaining why I did it.  Why I sang that particular song, why I had kissed him:

"Sorry about that, sir, I just felt like embarrassing myself in front of your buddies."  Please.  As if I haven't done enough of that already.

"Oh, that?  Yeah, I just got, you know, carried away by the song, it's so emotional, I always kiss somebody after I sing it, that's what I do.  You were just the closest."  That's almost laughable.  He'll see right through it, he knows how kiss-cautious I am.  Or was, anyway.

"I want to apologize for the complete awkwardness back there, I'm always so emotional when I'm ovulating."  Uh, no, that one's too gross, besides I don't ever know my own calendar, so that's absolute crap.

I sighed and shook my head, whispering at last, "Sorry, Freddie, for kissing you and making it seem like I'm desperately in love with you."

But, you see, I finished to myself, I am.

Eventually I gave up on the excuses, and decided I simply wouldn't mention it unless he did, in which case, I would apologize.  I hoped I wouldn't have to contend with him very long; what remained of my composure hung by a thread as it was. 

My job here was done.  I had my Passport, my journal, and enough money to get me to the States.  All I would have to do was leave. 

At last, I opened the door around one, and to my surprise found the flat was utterly silent.  Splashing a little cold water on my face, I took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.  Nothing stirred.  Freddie himself seemed to have gone.

Why I didn't bolt right then and there, I don't know.  But instead of seizing my chance, I picked up the tea tray and placed it in the kitchen by the sink.  I didn't feel like washing the cups and teapot out just yet, though -I had been doing that all afternoon and night, and I was tired of everything- so I left it for the moment and walked back into the living room.  The guitar sat where I had left it, in the corner by the sofa.  I picked it up and began to play softly, humming under my breath. 

Whether I realized it or not, I was waiting for him; as much of a beast as Freddie had acted recently, I still wanted to properly bid him farewell.  For my greatest joys and my greatest anguishes, he was responsible.  If nothing else, he still deserved my thanks for the joys.  I could not leave without bestowing them.

"Oh, every spring, there's a honey bee that stings/ so things can change," I whispered.  "Oh, every fire, get too close and it reminds you/ Things can change in love.../ But it sure feels good at first."

No, actually, it never felt good. Shut up, Train, you don't know anything.

The front door opened.  At once, I stopped playing and put down the guitar.  Hopping off the sofa like something had bitten me, I ran into the kitchen, my heart thumping.  I was still so terrified- but I really didn't know why.  I didn't know what made me hide away again, but I did it.

I needed a reason to be in the kitchen, so I started washing the tea cups.  Please be nice, Freddie, I begged him silently.  Don't be a jerk.  I don't feel up to the game any longer.  Let's just say you won, and we'll part on neutral terms. Okay?

I heard his footsteps enter the kitchen, and I realized very quickly how little strength I now had left. 

"Hello, Julia."  

My soul shivered at the sound of his voice. Oh, God, the way he says my name... my real name...

I turned my head toward him, but kept my eyes down.  "Hi."

When he didn't say anything else, I faced the wall again and went back to scrubbing the cups clean.  "Is everyone gone?"

"Except us, yes."

"Oh, good.  Then as soon as I finish this, I'll be gone, too." 

"Darling, don't worry about this," he said softly. "I can-"

"It's okay," I breathed out.  "It's not very much."

He walked up beside me.  "Let me help you." 

"No, really, it's fine, go- do something else, I got it."

"Julia-" 

"I said, it's fine.  Please go in there.  Go anywhere, I don't care.  Just let me do this.  Please."

He let out a weary, sad sigh, and after a moment, he moved away, going back into the parlor.  My voice had been a little too short for my liking, but I couldn't have him standing so close, or run the risk of my hands brushing against his own large ones when he took the dishes from me to dry.  I couldn't afford another lapse of judgment- and I was much more susceptible now than in the moments before I'd kissed him.  I had no choice but to double down if I was to make it out alive.

"Five minutes, tops," I assured Freddie. "Time me."

"Are you in a hurry to go?" he called after a moment. 

"Kind of," I replied.  "Why?"

"We need to talk."

A pit formed in my stomach.  "We do?"  Suddenly I looked at the rings on my hands.  "Oh, yeah!  I almost forgot, I need to sign those papers, too."

"Papers?"

"For the annulment, right?"

"Oh.  Yes.  That.  I'll go get them.  And, um- there's something I think you ought to have before you, um- leave for good."

"What is it?"

"I'll show you when you come back in here."

"Yes, sir."

He didn't reply, instead tromping loudly up the steps to retrieve the fake annulment for the fake marriage.  The rest of the time I spent washing the tea setup, Freddie said nothing.  There was no music playing, no conversation, just the running of hot water and the occasional clink of the china against the sink.  It was an almost lethal silence, until finally I heard the soft notes of the piano float into the air.  Freddie couldn't bear the quiet either.

He began by playing "My Melancholy Blues," but in a tempo closer to the version featured on the album.  I heard a snatch of the verse section of "Jealousy," then a piece of "Somebody to Love" and a few bars of "We Are the Champions." Then he started making things up as he went along, throwing in little bits of songs I recognized, and playing some odd transitional chord that didn't immediately seem appropriate, but turned out to be perfectly in-tune in the very next second, making for a truly impressive medley.  If this was his stream of consciousness, no wonder the single, guided sections of thought, known as his songs, were so incredible.

Placing the last cup carefully on the rack to drain, I strode out of the kitchen and took a deep breath.  Dear Lord, please don't let me lose my head.

I marched over to the piano and waited for him to find a resting point.  On the stand, where sheet music would usually be placed, the annulment papers sat waiting to be signed.  I plucked them off the piano.  Or tried to.  As soon as my fingers closed over the sheet, Freddie grabbed my wrist.

"Don't rush me, my dear," he said quietly. 

"But, sir, it only takes a minute-"

"My name is Freddie, you know my name is Freddie, so f---ing call me Freddie," he hissed.  "One thing at a time."

I nodded.  Lips twitching, he rose from the piano bench and sat down on the sofa, bringing the paper along.  I went to sit diagonally from Freddie, who shook his head and patted the cushion beside him.  When I hesitated, he closed his eyes.

"I just want to touch your hand," he explained bluntly. 

I blinked.  "Why?" 

"Because I- may not get another chance."

That pierced through my thinning armor and struck deep inside.  So I gingerly stood and perched myself where he wanted, just inches away from him.  I let Freddie move his hand onto mine, and close over it.  My heart fluttered, and I had to fight to keep from letting out a little involuntary gasp.  How completely he excited me even now, when all he had dared to do was hold my hand in his.

"Is that my ring you're wearing?" he asked, looking at my thumb.

I nodded.

"Funny, that it should fit on your hand," he mused.  "They're so small.  Your hands, I mean."

"They just look small because yours are so large," I murmured.  I studied the way his hand seemed to fold around mine.  Fits like a glove, I heard myself think.

"Small and soft," he whispered.  "By the way, I didn't tell you how beautiful you look tonight."

From "hardly presentable" to "beautiful" in a single night.  I sighed through my nose.  "Thank you."

We sat there, awkwardly staring at each others' hands, for neither of us had the fortitude to look the other in the eye.  No one said a word, until finally I broke the silence.

"So, um," I murmured, "did you enjoy the meal?"

"Oh, yes, very much," he replied.  "It was delicious."

"You barely finished half."

"I eat like a bird, I admit it."  He coughed.  "Unlike some people, I don't eat as though I'm never going to eat again."

For a few seconds I sat there, then my brows furrowed slightly.  "Freddie, was that a shot?"

His lips pursed.  At last Freddie whispered, "Sorry."

I shook my head, fighting back a tiny half-smile.  Good grief.  Not even my metabolism is safe from your petty jabs.

"But I did enjoy it," he added.  "The food, I mean."  His hand seemed to grip mine a little tighter.  "And the songs."

Okay, he mentioned it, now I have to ask.  "Well, I'm not Joe, but I tried.  By the way..."

"What?"

"I, uh... didn't ruin anything, did I?"

"I don't know what you-"

"Yes, you do."

"The, um... that song?"

"Yes, and- uh, that which followed it-"

"Oh, you mean when you kissed me?" What was it about those words, and the gentle voice he used to say them, that sharpened the aching in my heart?

"Right.  That.  I didn't- I mean, it didn't make things too weird, did it?"

"No, no, most everyone practically forgot about it after a few minutes."

I sighed and nodded.  "That's good."

"I didn't forget."

"That's natural," I said clinically.  "I wouldn't expect you to."

Another long, choking silence ensued, the air filling with all the words I was screaming way down inside. 

"If you feel like telling me," he said at last, "what made you come back?"

"Is this what you wanted to discuss?"

"No, I just want to know."  His thumb slowly slid back and forth over my knuckles. 

I shrugged.  "Rudy."

He sounded shocked.  "Rudy?  My driver, Rudy?"

"He's the only Rudy I know."

"But how-"

"That crazy man followed me all the way to Bath and convinced me to come back."

"Why would he do that?"

I decided against describing how staunchly Rudy believed that I was essentially Freddie in a skirt- and how, to some inconvenient extent, he wasn't wrong. "I don't know, he's the silent type, remember?"

"What were you doing out there?"

"I was about to go join the abbey- and then he went, found me, told me I didn't stand a chance.  Said I would be miserable."

"I told you that, but you didn't believe me."

"So I came to get the Passport," I concluded, "and- yeah."

He frowned.  "Could you not find it?"

"Oh, no, I found it."

"Then why did you stay?"

I bit my lip.  "Why do you care?"

"I'm just curious, Julia," he whispered.  "The way things have, uh- transpired lately, I don't know why you would."

Memories of the night before flared in my mind, and my words became jagged.  "But, as I recall, I'm not worth the curiosity," I murmured.  "I'm such a dull stick-in-the-mud-"

"Darling," he pleaded. 

"Your words, not mine, dear sir-"

"Julia, for f---'s sake, STOP CALLING ME THAT!" he cried in the most tortured voice I'd ever heard him use.  The hand he wasn't holding twitched anxiously. I wanted to plug my ears, keep out the bleeding emotion.  It only enhanced my own.

He sounded on the verge of tears.  "Good God.  Please don't throw those- The past couple of days, I've been so horrible, and I've said some terrible things to you, things I have no right to say to anyone, least of all you, and I didn't mean one of them, not one f---ing thing, and what I did to you last night- oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry, please believe me- scoff at anything else I say, but believe me when I tell you I am sorry."

My hands twitched again, but this time with the almost crippling desire to throw my arms around Freddie and be one with his despairing, beautiful soul, to just sit there and weep with him. How I kept it together after such an apology, I have no idea. 

"I believe you," I whispered.  "And I forgive you."

"Do you?" To me it seemed there was a bit of cynicism edging the question.

"Of course I do."  God, Freddie, have you any idea how much I want to kiss you- say I love you and kiss you and hold you, oh, my prince, what have you done to me?

I sat there a moment, let him settle down before I finally answered him, "I told you, I said I would help you- so I did."

"That's the only reason?"

No.  There's one more.  It's because I love you.  But I can't say that.  "Should there be another?"

He blinked.  "I suppose not."

"Freddie, it's getting awfully late, what is it you wanted to say?" I sighed.  "Or did you already say it?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay.  I just don't want to waste your time-"

"Julia, you couldn't waste my time if you tried.  It's me who's stalling, I know.  It's just- I feel like I haven't spoken to you in ages and I've missed this so much, missed talking to you, and I'm probably never going to see you again, so I-" his voice seemed to thicken again, and he made himself take a deep breath before continuing, "I want to - get as much good out of this moment as I can."

For a man who kept as many people around him as possible, he sounded so lonely.  My heart broke for him all over again.  The hand Freddie held turned over so that it could close around his as well.  We just sat there on the sofa holding hands for a few seconds, my other hand busy scratching behind sleeping Tiffany's ears.  If I looked into Freddie's eyes now, I would surely melt- and be nothing else if not his.

"What I- had to say," he murmured, "has to do with you.  I have to ask it again- a question you didn't answer.  You're so good at beating about the bush, I didn't even realize that's what you did until I really thought about it."

"You and me both," I remarked. 

"What?"

"Evasive- you know, answering questions with questions.  It's not just me."  Let's add that to the list, shall we? 

"Yeah, I suppose that's true," he said to himself.  "Very true."

"So what question was it?"

"I just- want to know who you are, and what you came here for."

"That's two questions."

"Answer them both, please.  Who are you?  Will you finally tell me?"

"Who am I," I repeated, with a deep sigh.  He had read my journal, he knew just about everything already.  Now all that was left for me to do was fill in the blanks.  I couldn't keep lying anyway, not when I was so bad at it.

"Yes, I'll tell you," I whispered.  "Stop me, though, when you decide I belong in a madhouse, or you just don't want to hear any more."  And I continued, my eyes still down, but my voice speaking slowly and clearly:

"My full name is Julia Christine Samuels, and I was born December 9, 1997.  And yes, I meant to say 97.  So if you want to be technical, you could say I'm almost negative twenty years old. 

"I'm a college student with a Major in Psychology and a Minor in Music.  And on November 27, in the year 2017, in the interest of saving my grades and honors status, I agreed to... be the test subject for a radical experiment.  What they didn't tell me is that it was a time machine.  The idea was to send me to 1971, talk to a guy named Saul Alinsky, spend a few hours there at most, and come straight back."

"Who's Saul Alinsky?" he asked.  All the wacky stuff I've just laid out, and that's your question?

"A Blue Meanie."

"Oh.  So- how did you end up here?"

"The Magic Mirror, I guess, interfered with the signal or whatever.  I honestly have no idea how that even happened, but I was feeling a little nervous, and T-Rod wasn't working- that's the machine- so I tried looking up pictures of..."

"Of what?"

"...Pictures of you."

Freddie fell silent again. 

"And when I typed in the keywords, while still inside T-Rod, it sent me here- plopped me right into your closet... And you know the rest."

I expected Freddie to have had enough by now, but he said, "Then... you did know who I was."

"Oh, man," I breathed.  "Yes, I knew- and I know.  I don't know everything, but I know a lot.  For seven whole calculating years, I watched you.  I studied you, admired you, downright obsessed over you.  I know that sounds unhinged, but- you fascinated me.  You're a talented, complicated man, I've always thought so- and you make such a point of concealing yourself- I used to watch your eyes, how impenetrable they can be.  I wanted to know what was going on behind them... so when the chance arose, and by some great terrible magic I fell into your lap- I couldn't let something like that go to waste, I- I had to carpe the diem."

Freddie swallowed.  "My God..."

"I know it sounds absolutely mad, I'm sorry, but it's true."

"That's not what I mean.  I'm just listening to you, and it's like..."

"What?"

"Nothing."  Freddie hesitated a moment, let my words roll back and forth in his head before he asked, "So were you... disappointed with your findings, Doctor?"

I shook my head. 

"That's good," he whispered.  "I'd hate for you to, um- spend all this time here, then go home feeling like you've wasted two weeks."

"You're taking all this so w-" I cut myself off.  "Go home?"

He nodded.  "Yes."

I frowned.  "But I can't. The Relic is gone."

Freddie just sat there, then without a word he lifted my hand to his lips and softly kissed it.  I felt him start to shake, much like I had begun to do.  He laid my hand against his cheek for a few moments, then finally released me.

"Julia Christine Samuels," he whispered, nodding.  "Look behind the pillow."

I looked up at him at last, but his eyes remained fixed on his knees.  The pillow? Go home?  What-

And then it hit.  A strange feeling of angst- not euphoria, not excitement, but angst- washed over me.  I turned to the pillow beside me, almost afraid to look.  With trembling hands I pulled it away.

And nearly fainted.  I bit my fingers to keep from shrieking.  No.  I'm dreaming.  I must be dreaming.  This cannot be.  It's gone!  It's gone forever!

But there it was, sitting casually against the cushions.  The missing link.   The way back home.  The real Passport.

My one and only Relic.

As if in a trance, I reached out to the Nokia, afraid it should evaporate as soon as my fingers grazed its hard plastic case.  I clenched it in my hands, laughing in relief- but strangely, I felt much less joy than I had anticipated.  Of course, I was glad, and oh, so grateful, but I wasn't overcome.  I suppose I hadn't felt as trapped as I thought I did.

But now, I thought, I am free. 

The sofa cushions shifted.  I looked up.  Freddie had stood and was walking away.

At once I scrambled to my feet, calling, "Freddie, wait!  Hold on!"

He stopped.  I rushed to his side, took his arm.  "Where did you find it?"

Very slowly he shook his head.  "That's the thing."

"What is?"

"I... I didn't have to."

I stood there, blinking.  When my tongue decided to kick back into working order, I whispered, "Freddie, are you saying- did you have this all the time?"

"No," he said quickly.  "I just... I accidentally... I sort of... broke it."

"How?  I want to know.  Please tell me."

After a moment, he did.  "When we were shopping for you- I took out your Relic to sort of look at it.  And then I tripped, and the first thing to hit the floor was the hand holding it.  Got all smashed up."

"The guy who fell.  That was you." 

He nodded.  "So I had John fix it.  He's had it this whole time."

I stared at his down-turned profile. "So... you broke it- and had John fix it... but you didn't tell me?"

"I just told you," Freddie muttered. 

"Freddie, you let me believe I was trapped.  I'm not upset, I'm actually not even very surprised, I just- why wouldn't you tell me?  I was so scared-"

He snarled, "Look, you have it now, all right? It's fixed, you're free. Isn't that enough? You can f---ing go back to your gingerbread-perfect world and live out your pretty little plans just like you wanted and forget all about me, the monster. You can go now! Aren't you f---ing thrilled?"

I shrank back, let go of his arm.  "I'm sorry," I whispered.  "Thank you for giving it back to me, I'll, uh- just- sign that over there and make my way out..."

Shivering, I turned away, took the pen on the piano and signed the paper that would destroy what didn't even really exist.  Once I'd scrawled my fake name, I started up the stairs to grab my things.  As I ascended, I heard him following close behind.  He put his hand on my shoulder about three quarters of the way up.

"I didn't mean you have to leave my flat," he said quietly.  "It's dark and muggy out there."

"It's a quarter after one," I replied, looking at the clock. 

"Right.  Anyway, until they call, you're still- kind of stuck here, and, uh..."  He trailed off, then picked back up.  "My point is, you're welcome to stay until they do."

I swallowed.  "I don't want to impose any longer, but thank you for the offer-"

"Julia, I'm not offering, I'm asking," he murmured, walking one more step higher so that we were on the same level.  "Please stay one more night.  Even if you go back before the morning, I need you to be close for as long as you have to wait, I can't... I just... Please stay."

How was it he could be cruel, then sweet, then even more cruel, sharp enough to break the skin, and still make me want to fall into his arms with one or two charming sentences?

With a sigh, and yet another stupid lump in the throat, I nodded.  "I will, then.  Thank you."

Freddie lifted my chin, made me look into his tired eyes.  "What are you thanking me for?"

I half-smiled.  "For being so generous," I answered.  "For the madness, and for the living.  It's been such a ride, through and through.  I had more fun the last two weeks than I've had in my entire life- and it's all because of you."

"Don't mention it," he murmured, and then just gazed at me, his hand still under my chin.  There was something more he wanted to say, I could see it in those flashing eyes.  But his lips stayed sealed, even though his jaw clenched several times in a row with things he couldn't bring himself to utter. 

Then he whirled away from me, eyes down, shoulders hunched, and marched up the rest of the stairs into his bedroom.  He shut the door.

I stood frozen for a minute.  Then I, too, carried myself to the green bedroom and locked the door behind me.  Asshole.  He didn't even say goodbye.

Setting the Relic on the nightstand, I undressed and put on my dark green nightgown.  The bed was nicely made up, and I wanted to keep it in relatively good shape, so I didn't draw the covers back, instead deciding to lay on top of them, like I had on the first night.

My God, I thought to myself suddenly.  I'm never going to see him again.  Sure, he'll be in the pictures, his voice will be in the songs- but I'll never ever get to be this close again.  Why didn't I give him a hug, let alone kiss him? 

Because I was being careful, of course.

Screw careful!  I thought angrily, rebelliously.  I love him!  Why couldn't I let down my guard for two seconds, just to touch him one last time? 

I walked to the bedroom door, raised my hand to unlock it and run to Freddie but I stopped.  And went no further.  For suddenly now I knew the answer to that question he kept asking me.

"What are you afraid of?"

What am I afraid of?  I thought.  Not you, Freddie.  I thought I was, but it's not you.  No.  It's me.  I'm afraid of myself- and who I might become, if I walk out of this room right this moment and lay myself at your feet. 

But even as I told myself this, I could feel it.  Subtle, but there nonetheless.

A shift.

A crack.

Deep inside, the great walls around my heart, the bricks and mortar of caution and good sense, were beginning to buckle under the weight of something I could not suppress much longer.

Come quickly, Dr. K.  I can't do this anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED...