"I think Rudy's here," I announced while making up the bed.

"Oh, yes?" Freddie called from the bathroom.

"Yes," I said.  "I hear someone knocking at the door."

"Is somebody ringing the bell?"

"No, I think someone's knocking at the door-"

"I could have sworn I heard somebody ringing the bell."

I was about to ask why we were even having this discussion.  Suddenly I realized what he was doing.  "Really?" I murmured to myself.

Freddie poked his head out and grinned at me.  "Do me a favor, darling: open the door, and let him in."

I burst out laughing.  "You're so silly."

"No, I just feel marvelous, that's all."

In spite of what had taken place as little as fifteen minutes ago, both of us were behaving respectably, feeling as fresh as the new, gently rainwashed day.  While I smoothed the bed sheets, Freddie was busy smoothing the curls the shower had made of his hair- a task he was going to have to cut short fairly soon, or else be late.  He had been singing random melodies to himself, little "dee dee dees" and whatnot, trying to see what worked and what needed work.  My lips were curled in a permanent smile as I listened to him go.  The smallest things he did made me so utterly happy.

"Now I have that song stuck in my head," I muttered softly.  "Thank you so, so very much."

"Not at all," he chirped. 

I heard a couple more knocks.  "I'll be right back," I said.

"Hold it, hold it, darling, what have you done with my shirt?"

"It's right where I left it." I pointed.  "Right there on the chair."

Freddie padded out of the bathroom and saw his ironed, short-sleeved button down draped over the back of the chair in the corner.  "Ah!  There it is.  Thank you, darling, that saves me a good bit of time.  'Well, you're just seventeen, and all you wanna do is disapp...' Julia, why don't you like Roger?"

"Why do you ask?" I asked.

"Idle curiosity.  Aside of the bet, I mean, you obviously weren't too keen on him even before you met him.  What was it?"

"It's not that I didn't like him, I just- I was just rather apathetic toward him, is all," I replied.  "But I admit, he is quite cute."

"Oh, is he?" Freddie said dryly.

"Yup," I answered.  "He's got a very pretty face."

"Mm-hm.  I see how it is."

"See what?"

"You do think he's pretty.  Not just cute, but pretty."

"Oh, now, don't you dare start.  You asked!"

He mumbled something under his breath, something about how I just thought he was cute.  Freddie pulled on the shirt, his back to me as he mildly sulked. I can't keep up with this guy, he's so moody.

I sighed.  "I would go on to say that you, by comparison, are not pretty, but gorgeous, and there's a fire in your soul that Roger couldn't hope to match- and it's that I found, and still find, absolutely captivating; but you're being moody, so I'll wait to tell you that once you're feeling better."

So saying, I started for the stairs, when Freddie put his hand on my arm. 

"Sorry, darling, you were going to say something?" he purred.

I rolled my eyes.  "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh, much."

"In a minute," I quipped, smiling.  "I've got to let Rudy in."

"Hurry back, then, and button me up.  I'll do it all wrong otherwise.  I'll make sure of it."

So I hustled down the stairs, whistling the quirky Paul McCartney tune.  I felt so good, I wondered if it was even healthy to feel this level of good. So this is what it's like to love someone you know loves you, I mused lightly.  It's like heaven.

Sure enough, I found Rudy waiting on the stoop when I flung the door open, with Freddie's Rolls instead of the Jaguar sitting by the curb behind him.  As soon as he saw me, his jaw dropped. 

"Come on in," I sang.  "How's Clarence?"

"Clarence is- uh, well," he replied.  "How are you?"

I nodded.  "Quite well, as well," I said, waving my hand for Rudy to enter the flat. 

When I closed the door behind him, I took his hands and kissed them.  "Thank you," I whispered. 

Rudy cocked his head, pretended not to know what I meant.

"You were right," I explained briefly.  "Thank you."  I let go of him, then, and suggested, "Care for a cup of tea?"

 He looked like he wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but he didn't. Instead, he sighed quietly and smiled, as he answered me with a quiet shake of the head.  Good old reliable Rudy.  A truly special man.  I still miss him.

"Freddie's still up there," I murmured.  "Should be down in a minute or two."

It was here that Freddie sauntered downstairs, his shirt still unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up just a bit.  He had Tiffany cradled like a baby in his arms.  Why doesn't he want the world to know what an old softie he is?  I asked myself rhetorically. Why does he have to be such a pompous ass in public?  He's so lovable like this.

He crooned jokingly, "All right, if one of you would mind tying my shoelaces and the other one buttoning my shirt, I'd very much appreciate it."

I looked at his feet.  "Your shoes don't have laces."

"Very perceptive.  Then do button me up, please, dear."  He set the calico on the floor.

I marched up to him and began fastening the buttons.  "You can be such a baby sometimes," I hummed softly.

"There's a method to my madness," he whispered when I was about halfway up. 

"Really?"

I was answered with two large hands suddenly sliding down my back and squeezing my bottom.

Half of me wanted him to take it even further, but the other half was a little more self-conscious- and currently had control of my mouth.  "Rudy's standing right there," I hissed. 

"What of it?" Freddie looked up.  "Rudy, is this making you uncomfortable?"

Rudy stood there and tried to stifle a smile as he said, "Not really.  No."

My prince turned back to me.  "Julia, is this making you uncomfortable?"

"You just don't stop, do you?" I murmured, half-smiling, but still clutching his lapels. Freddie chuckled when I reached behind me and pulled his hands away until I finished.  I only completed one more button when he told me that was enough. 

Not surprising, I thought to myself.  He wants to show off as much chest as is socially acceptable.  Can't say I blame him.  So thinking, I leaned in and kissed his exposed collar bone, then his neck.  Squabbles aside, I truly could not get enough of him, in any sense of the word.

"Speak for yourself, my love," he murmured, his lips finding mine and staying there.  Good grief, we can't keep away from each other.

He shook his head as he pulled back, smiling.  "Wow."

"What?" I asked.

"Just thinking how thirteen days ago, you would have kicked up quite the fuss over me merely holding your hand for too long a time."

"I was nineteen and innocent then," I whispered.  "And you are a bad, bad influence."

"Yes, but you love me."

I nodded.  "I do, indeed.  But you're going to be late if you keep standing with me like this.  Rudy's waiting, aren't you, Rudy?"

"Are you really pushing me out of my own home?" Freddie laughed, backing away toward the front door behind Rudy. 

"I shall see you later, I hope!" I said, following them out to the car.  Freddie fitted his sunglasses (his aviators, not the star-shaped ones) across his eyes, and moved to slide into the back seat.

Suddenly Freddie turned.  "Wait a minute," he said, brows furrowing.  "You said you were nineteen then."

"I -was," I confirmed, blinking in confusion.  "Or negative twenty-one, the two are interchangeable."

"When, uh- when did you stop being nineteen?"

I thought it over.  That was a good question.  "Technically, let's see- I was born on December 9, and I was sent here on the 27th of November, so- that was thirteen days ago..." I ticked off the days on my hands, and blinked.  "Oh, cool."

Freddie folded his arms.  "So, tell me, when did you turn twenty?"

I opened my mouth, but then closed it.  "I'm not telling."

"Is it today?"

"No, July 13th is not my birthd-"

"Did you turn twenty years old today, regardless of what the actual date is?" Freddie clarified.

"Technically- yes," I conceded.  "I am officially twenty, be it positive or negative.  The ninth is thirteen days exactly from November 27th."

"So, technically," Freddie mimicked, "today is your birthday."

"Well, yes, I guess it is."

His eyes narrowed.  "And uh, when were you going to tell me, darling?"

"On the ninth of December, this year," I laughed.  "Would you get in the car, please?"

"Unbelievable!" Freddie exclaimed.  "You give me absolutely no time to plan anything-"

"I don't want anything!  You took me to Vegas!  That's more than too much all by itself!"

"That was for business reasons!  This is an entirely different situation, this is your f---ing birthday, my God!"

"Rudy, help!  He's turned into a wall!  Gone utterly deaf!"

"Again?" Rudy sighed dryly.

Amid Freddie's playful protests, we got him to sit down in the backseat.  "That's it," he cried, "I'm calling today a short day-"

"You promised yourself, Freddie, you'd get some serious work done!" I reminded him. "All night, if necessary!  To yourself, be true!"

Freddie sighed.  "Damn you," he muttered.  "Very well.  But you had better be here when I return."

"Where else would I go?" I said cheerily. 

He just looked at me, suddenly serious.  Freddie took my hand.  "Julia," he whispered.  "I mean it.  I've grown far too accustomed to your face."

"Darling, I'm not going anywhere," I assured him softly. 

"And as for this little matter of today being your birthday-"

I shook my head.  "Nope.  That's in December.  Believe me, I don't mind waiting another five months."

"You are indubitably the most peculiar woman I've ever met.  Can I at least buy you a cake?"

"Nope," I shook my head defiantly.  "My birthday is in December.  I am a Sagittarius, and a Sagittarius I shall stay."  Smiling, I touched his face.  "Besides, you're birthday present enough all by yourself."

Freddie gazed at me.  "I love you."

"And I love you."  So saying I leaned in for one more goodbye kiss.

"But, in a purely hypothetical scenario," Freddie added, "if I were to buy you a cake, what kind would you-"

I laughed.  "Would you please go?"

"You're in such a hurry to get me out of your hair," Freddie complained. "What have I done?"

If it were up to me, I would not have let the man out of my sight. But Freddie had set a goal for himself; he told me he wanted to be at the studio no later than nine-thirty that morning, and stay there till all his imagination and energy had been channeled into recorded musical perfection. He was going to write another song for the album if it killed him. Considering the man was quite a notorious trouper, that could take all day and reach far into the night. I had a plan for the day as well; though I had made up my mind to stay on with Freddie, I still needed something to occupy my time, whether that meant a job or something else just as enthralling.

"I'm not going to be a nuisance, for you, the band, or anybody," I informed him lightly. "Now, scat!"

Freddie sighed, "Good God! Don't start that again!"

"I won't, I won't!" I cried in a theatrical voice, sweeping my arms. "Now, vamoose, before Brian starts getting comfortable! Slay them in the aisles! Knock 'em dead! And stuff like that!"

Oh, dang, I do talk like him now. Nice. Whatever it is he's got, it's fatally contagious.

At last Freddie shut the car door, and the Rolls headed down the road towards the studio, Rudy laughing softly as he drove the car into the street.  My prince stuck his hand out the window and waved, until the car turned the corner and moved out of sight.

My feet didn't seem to touch the ground as I danced back into the flat.  I had heard people described as seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, but I had never experienced it myself due to my over-analytical nature.  But as I shut the front door and twirled gently about his home, I couldn't help but notice everything did indeed have a softer look about it, a rosier hue. 

I floated upstairs, decided to fix the fact that I wasn't wearing any makeup yet.  I sat before the mirror, first inserting my contacts.  One of them didn't go in properly, causing one eye to water up a bit before I pulled the lens out and inverted it to the right shape.  My mascara brush was poised over my left eye when I stopped, and peered closely at my face. 

For the first time, it fully occurred to me, how different I looked from the girl I was two weeks ago.  My cheekbones were sharper, and there still were slight dark circles under my eyes.  I expected those.  What I didn't anticipate seeing was the new, faint curve about the corners of my mouth- very much like Freddie's risque little smirk, but on a smaller scale.  And the expression in my eyes, too, had changed.  That gentle light of innocence was gone, replaced by a gleam not too unlike the one which appeared whenever Freddie was being tongue-in-cheek or suggestive.  Whether this was a result of him turning me inside out, a conscious effort to mold me in his image- or simply what bubbled to the surface now that he had unearthed the repressed, naughty parts of my soul, I couldn't say. But one thing was sure: I wasn't, nor would ever be, the same.

I was even starting to talk like him.  My American accent had indeed begun slipping through the cracks; whenever I said my "r's" now, they came out as "ah's;" my vowels were much rounder and more to the front of my mouth; and my consonants, especially the "t's" and "k" sounds, were much more crisp and clipped.  No wonder Joe mistook me for Freddie. 

If this keeps up, I mused, by the time my actual birthday does roll around, I will literally be a female version of him, except with lighter-colored hair- and better teeth.

As usual, it only took two minutes to put my face together.  I needed to hear a particular bouncy song from my generation.  So I put the Android up against the intercom microphone one more time (I think I used it more than Freddie ever did), and navigated to the track list of the one Maroon 5 album I had.  "Sunday Morning" from their first album- you didn't get more la vie en rose than that. 

(Oh, did you think it would be a different song, considering the title of this chapter?  Maybe you're right, perhaps it should have been "Wake-Up Call"; I might have been better prepared for the one that actually came.)

The cats had already eaten, yet even now they swirled subtly around my feet, hoping I had forgotten.  "You don't fool me," I murmured softly.  "I got an elephant's memory.  Kudos for trying, though."

I decided I would have one more cup of tea before hitting the streets.  Singing out loud with Adam, I went back to the kitchen and fixed it up, nabbing a banana in the process and calling it breakfast, just as Freddie had done a little while ago.  My backpack was in the laundry room; on a whim I took out my journal and a black pen.  I hadn't written anything since Day 8, and that last awful, misunderstood line was the final word.  I intended to change that.

Flipping to a new page, I wrote, very briefly, yet in all seriousness:

Day 13: To know him is to love him...

And I do.

"Sunday Morning" was winding down now, and replaced by a more soulful, even more anachronistic, but just as bouncy, song by the Avett Brothers called "Ain't No Man."  I grinned to myself, and dared to assume, one more time: It's going to be a beautiful day.

Unfortunately, as I had learned the hard way so many times before, Life has a very dark sense of humor.

I was just putting the tea kettle in the sink to clean it, when the synthesizer of doom began playing alongside the Avett Brothers: Bip bi bip BEEP BEEP Bip bi bip BEEP BEEP-

Ugh, them again, I sighed.  And I almost didn't answer it.  My God, not a day passes that I don't wish I hadn't answered it. 

But I was curious.  I wondered if anything had changed due to me gumming up the works for the last two weeks.  How deeply had my interference cut into the course of Time?  I wanted to know the extent of the damage- or improvement, for that matter.

So I answered it.

"Hello!" K shouted into my ear.  "Please tell me it's you, Julia."

I smiled.  "Hi, K," I said softly.  "It's me, the guinea pig."

A huge roar of relieved joy exploded on the other end.  "At last!  My God, over two hours, we've been waiting to hear from you!" K cried over it. 

His voice is just as young as it was in Vegas.  My, my.

"We lost you a little while ago, " C cut in.  "Was that you?"

"Um... yes," I explained.  "But you see, I was just so overwhelmed by the sound of K's, uh, voice, I accidentally pushed the button to end the call.  Sorry."

"That's all right, we have you now," K said. 

Yeah, that's what you think.

"Julia, we have some good news and some bad news," C informed me.  "What do you want first?"

"Bad news first."

"Okay, bad news.  Your Nokia is almost out of power.  According to our data, it's at ten percent now."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, there's only enough juice in the battery to get in maybe one or two more calls, not including this one, and then it's dead, and the only way you're getting back here is the slow way."

"Right," I nodded, silently laughing with delight and praying the Relic's death came quickly.  "So what's the good news?"

"The good news is, T-Rod is fully operational," K said.  "And we are ready to bring you in now if you are ready to go."

"Terrific," I yawned.  How do I tell them I'll never be ready?

"Also, what with all the calls we've made to John, and the data we collected indirectly through him, we were able to get a rough estimate of the way time is passing on your end as well.  It's around nine over there, in the morning, isn't it?"

"Eight fifty-seven, yes," I confirmed.  "Wow, you're good."

"Nice," K said, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Are you ready to go?" C asked, cutting to the chase. 

"Uh, yeah," I replied.  "About that."

C hesitated.  "What do you mean, about that?"

"I'm, uh... I'm happy here," I told him.  "I'm very happy, in fact."

"So?"

"So, I don't want to come back."

A long pause.  "What did you say?"

"Let me rephrase that."  I cleared my throat.  "I'm not coming back."

K's voice sounded a little more shivery than normal.  "Are you still with him?"

"Who?"

"Freddie.  Is that the guy you're with?"

"Wow, you people really do know everything.  Yes, I'm still with him."

"Did you get his autograph?"

"Steve, is that really a relevant question right now?" C took over the mike.  "Julia, did you sleep with him?"

"C," I rolled my eyes, "Is that a really relevant question?"

"Very relevant, actually," he snarled.  "You did, didn't you?"

I sighed.  "Ah, Dr. C, how you do run on.  By the way, that's none of your business."

"You slept with him," C concluded, not inaccurately.  "Not that I care, I just- look, Julia, regardless of whatever necrophilia you've been engaging in with Freddie, you're coming back.  I just hope you understand that."

"Why should I?" I asked, my voice hardening a little.  "I'm happy.  He makes me happy."

"So what?  You agreed, Julia.  You agreed to come back.  So we're bringing you back."

"I'd like to see you try," I whispered, stroking my bare neck.

Dr. C called to someone a little distance away, "Are we locked on, Stuart?"

"Locked on, sir," came the muffled reply.  "Whenever you're ready."

"Now!"

A couple of seconds of silence.  Then, I asked them, "Am I there yet?"

"Something's not- Julia, you're not wearing your tracker!" Dr. C shouted.

"Oh, whoops.  I guess you guys are out of luck then."

Dr. C let off a little steam by sending a few incoherent lines of profanity over the airwaves.

K spoke up.  "Julia, think of your family!  Your home!"

"I'm in love, K," I whispered.  "As cliche and corny as that sounds, I'm so in love, and it's something I've never been before.  And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"In love." C murmured.  "In love with Freddie Mercury.  Oh, that's rich."

"Why?"

C sighed, his voice becoming cold and calculating.  "Julia, I didn't want to have to do this," he said.  "I was afraid I would have to when you hung up on us earlier.  I don't want to have to say this to you.  But you leave me no choice."

"What are you talking about?"

Dr. C cleared his throat, and very calmly, very evilly, explained.

"He doesn't love you, Julia."

"How would you know?" I snapped defensively.  "Did you ask him?"

"Think about it," he said.  "Think about what you know about Freddie.  What everybody knows about Freddie.  He was all about sex, sex, and more sex.  Love rarely entered into it."

"He told me he loves me-"

"But for how long, Julia?" he countered.  "How long will your love- or, more accurately, your sex- satisfy him, especially considering he's gay?"

My insides were trembling.  "He's not gay, he's b-"

"How long?" he demanded.  "How long, till the love runs out?"

In my head, I was screaming; outwardly I spluttered, "He- he wants me to stay!  He made me swear last night-"

"You know, maybe right now, he does quasi love you, for whatever reason," C conceded.  "But it won't last, Julia, you know that.  You know that."

"Tim," K protested, "That's enough-"

But C was on a roll.  "How long, before the fire dies, and you're cast aside, with nowhere to go and nothing to do- or, worse yet, you are reduced to becoming another of his, ahem, obligations?  You know what I mean."

Against my will, names of Freddie's obligations flooded my head- people who basically became his courtesans, living in apartments he bought for them, living off his good graces, until finally the interest became so nonexistent that it simply vanished, and both parties moved on.

But still I cried, grasping desperately at straws, "But maybe that's all changed!  Maybe because I came-"

"That's just it, Julia!" C declared in sadistic triumph.  "Nothing has changed!  NOTHING!  Whatever difference you think you've made in his life, you're- you're not even a blip on the radar!  We've checked everywhere under both your names!  And we found zilch."

"You're lying."

"Nothing is any different!  Do you understand?  He's still dead!  He's-"

"YOU'RE LYING!" I screamed. 

"No, Julia, this is the cold, hard truth talking. Welcome back to Reality, Alice, but it's time you quit chasing the white rabbit."

"Sweet Jesus," I breathed after a moment.  "Oh, Sweet Lord in heaven..."

"You do have a choice," C concluded.  "But it's not much of one. If you come back, he will forget you, but you get your life back, and all will be as it was; if you stay, you two are splitting up in a matter of days, if even that, and there's nothing you can do. I just hope you can live with that, if you do stay."

My eyes closed, and I sank into a chair.  "Oh, God..."

"Make your choice, Julia-"

"Tim, stop it," K cut in at last.  "Give the girl a chance to breathe.  You just unloaded on her, let her think."

C paused again, and took a deep breath.  My head was spinning, but not in the good way.  It was the kind of whirl that makes one want to throw up.  I clenched the Relic so tightly it stunned me the thing didn't break under the pressure.  Dr. C, I want to kill you.

"Fine," he muttered at last.  "I guess there's enough power left in the Relic for one more call.  We'll give you till your midnight-"

"Tim," K said again, his voice much more pleading. 

"All right, all right.  I'll give you till noon tomorrow, your tomorrow.  I guess- I guess you ought to have one more night with him, considering how you feel about him.  By noon, though, I need you to have made up your mind."

I was silent.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," I croaked.

"It is your choice, fundamentally.  I'm not trying to be cruel, I just need you to wake up and accept it: There's no way this ends with the two of you staying together.  Underst-?"

The connection fizzled.  I whispered quietly, "Noon tomorrow."

"Got i-?"

"I got it.  Goodbye."

I pressed the "End Call" button before the connection itself expired.

And as if to add insult to injury, the one stupid OneRepublic song I liked began to play all around me:

I'll be your light, your match, your burning sun,
I'll be the bright, and black, that's making you run.
And I feel alright, and we'll feel alright,
'Cause we'll work it out, yeah we'll work it out.
I'll be doin' this, if you ever doubt,
'Til the love runs out, 'til the love runs out

Till the love runs out.

How long, Dr. C had asked.  How long till the love runs out?

This would not have been such a devastating question, if not for what I did know about Freddie.  Seven years of study, yet that was likely the one thing I knew best of all.  And the thought of becoming an obligation, a burden upon his dear narrow shoulders- I would die before I let that happen.

But he loves me, I said to myself with weak obstinacy.

Yes, I answered myself.  But for how long?

I had all day and all night to think it over.  But the seeds of doubt were already sown, my emotional defenses weakened by the inimitable authority of facts. 

I wanted to see Freddie.  I wanted to see him right then.  I wanted him to silence the voices in my head.  But he was at the studio, or on his way- perchance to spend all day there.  I didn't want to be alone.  Oh, God, please help me.

I got my mind made up and I can't let go.
I'm killing every second 'til it sees my soul.
I'll be running, I'll be running,
'Til the love runs out, 'til the love runs out.
And we'll start a fire, and we'll shut it down,
'Til the love runs out, 'til the love ru-

The next thing I knew, I had my Android in my hand, which sent it clear across the room to land with a dull thud on the living room carpet.  Nothing broke, but the music stopped.  That's all I wanted.

And I sat down on the stairs and covered my face.  Oscar padded over, rubbed his face against my legs with a little purr.

"Oh, Oscar," I gasped.  I gathered the cat up into my lap, my fingers gently massaging his orange pelt.

I don't know how much time I spent sitting there, without tears, quietly petting Oscar, slowly going mad listening to those two words reverberate in my head: How long?  How long? How long?

At last, Freddie's phone rang, breaking through my daze.  I rose, carefully putting my feline friend down, and hurried over to answer.