~The Izzy Cam~

The whole band was crammed into a small studio, all sharing one couch. Skipper was the last to enter, and seeing that there were no seats left, peered quizzically at her closest companion; the curly-headed guitar player eagerly patted his leg with a quaint smile. Skipper carefully took a seat across his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. He protectively wrapped his arms around her, drawing her nearer. They did this quite often, though they frequently denied any romantic connection.

The red-headed lead singer frowned deeply at the sight of this, and stared off at the floor angrily. The other three band members addressed Skipper informally and playfully, plucking at her hair and commenting on her clothing.

"So are we hanging at your place again tonight? After we go out of course," Izzy clarified, ruffling his black mop of hair as he panned the room with his camera. He pointed it straight at Skipper, recording her dramatic eye roll. "You guys come over whether or not I ask you to. Slash and I have plans tonight anyways, but I'm sure you'll show up nonetheless."

"I thought you and I had plans tonight," Axl snapped at Skipper, who's contented expression soon died. "Oh... did we?"

Slash sighed, "But this band is only playing tonight, Curly. I have to see them. If not the tickets will go to waste." She was torn, of course, but it always played out this way. Slash and Axl glared at each other; ever since Skipper'd become apart of life with the band, their relationship had been strained.

"Well, I wanna see the band..." Skipper trailed off.

The interviewer finally entered the room, oblivious to the constant tension between the two front runners. "Should we get this show on the road?"

"Whatever." Axl grumbled, knowing that Slash had won yet again.

****

Skipper's POV

My life has become completely consumed by recreation. The tour ended a long time ago, but the fun had just begun, apparently.

For a month, everyday was the same. I work from five in the morning to five in the evening, and then I go back to the apartment. Slash was always there, but most of the time so was the rest of the band. We'd hang around for a while, I might catch an hour or two of sleep before the New York night was alive, and so were we.

We'd go clubbing for a while; the rest of the band would drink themselves into a stupor while Slash, Rosie and I drank only enough to have a good time.

The band could party into the wee hours of the morning, but not Slash and I. Around eleven, we'd leave whatever club we were attending, and hang out on our own. Most nights we'd go to Michael's house, or sometimes we'd just go back to my place and talk, or watch a movie. We talked about anything and everything, before falling asleep.

The cycle repeats itself just about every day.

"Chief Nelson! Chief Nelson!" I'm startled out of my light slumber, almost falling out of my swivel chair. "Tell them to go to my apartment," I immediately tell the nurse standing in the doorway of my office. I quickly remove my feet from the desk, in a weak attempt to look like I was actually doing something instead of waiting for five o'clock to roll around.

"No no, it's not the band this time. You have a special visitor who's been looking for you all day, he came on account of the AIDS awareness rally? You know, the one thrown in your name but you refused to participate in?" Her gaze is critical and disapproving.

"Okay, I've participated in tons of AIDS parades. They get in the way of my social life." The nurse shakes her snow white colored head, clucking her tongue. "Typical teenagers. Just come down to the lobby, he wants to meet you in person." She shuts the door tightly before I can protest, leaving me to groan in annoyance.

I grab my water bottle before stretching my stiff limbs, and trudging drowsily down to the lobby. A quick glance around the room reveals no one out of the ordinary, so I question the receptionist behind the desk. She peers up at me over her crescent shaped glasses, before turning and calling over her shoulder. "Mr. Mercury! She's here."

I take a swig of water as whoever 'Mr. Mercury' is shows himself. And when I lay eyes on him, I spit take before proceeding to choke on the cold liquid as well as surprise.

"You? You're Dr. Nelson, esteemed Chief Surgeon and discoverer of... well... you know?" My eyes bulge out of my head, and I somehow manage to stop hacking, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. "Thanks... for the introduction," I attempt to keep my cool, staring into the big brown irises of someone I've loved my entire life.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm a big fan, Freddy... Mercury." There's a fan girl buried inside of all of us, and while I allow her to flourish most of the time, I have great control over her. I struggle to force her deep down where she belongs, and maintain a professional atmosphere.

"You could say that I am a fan as well," He strokes the thick mustache adorning his upper lip and giving me a once over. "I expected you to be... bigger. Older, like most doctors." I don't take offense in the least, it's amazing enough to even be in his presence.

"Well, sir, I'm not most Doctors. Is there a... neurological problem I can assist you with?" His eyes sweep the room once more, before he clears his throat. He's dressed simply, in a white t-shirt and jeans, Doc Marten boots. His black hair is slicked back perfectly; though his accent is a bit frightening.

"Do you mind if we speak in your office? I find that people seem to find out about my personal endeavors before I do." I nod eagerly, wishing that I'd straightened up the office a bit before he came along. "Follow me."

My heart beats erratically as we take the stairs up to the second floor, there's no way I could ever be in an elevator with him without falling apart. We reach my office quickly, and when we do I shut the door tightly behind us, and give a polite smile.

"Now, what is it that I can assist you with?" He seems paler now, a bit nervous, wringing his hands uncontrollably. Beads of sweat are visible on his forehead, and it's a long time before he actually speaks. "Mr. Mercury?"

"Just Freddy, please." First name basis already.

"I've been to a dozen doctors. They all tell me the same thing, I'm doomed. They all... they didn't discover the disease, so they don't know the most about it. I decided I'd find the pioneer himself- or, herself, I suppose, so..."

My heart drops through the floor. It couldn't be... it's impossible. I can almost sense the color leaking slowly from my features, my initial excitement has diminished completely. "Oh no," I breathe quietly, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "They haven't... you aren't..."

His head drops with shame. "I'd like to believe it isn't true, and I need your help to let me know for sure."

I shake off my personal feelings, and spring into action. "Of course, I uh... developed this special test about a year ago, I haven't gotten around to getting it FDA certified, but it works well. All you have to do is give a spit sample, and we'll know in twenty minutes."

"No no, give me the real thing." His voice is quiet, unfeeling, detached. I nod solemnly, and prepare to successfully remove a blood sample.

****

"It's in the first stage." I whisper quietly, unable to meet his eyes. The clock on my desk displays '7:30' in red letters. Freddy sits before my desk, staring at me with hard and cold eyes. "No."

"It's just HIV, it isn't the full blown deal. If you let me start treating you now, then it won't progress into-"

"No! Didn't you hear me!" He leaps to his feet, completely morphing into something frightening. "I know! This disease doesn't exist! It's a hoax, it's a hoax specially formulated to.. suck the money out of people! You're a child! You don't know anything about medicine! You just want my money!"

He vents his anger for a long time, pacing the length of my office. "I mean look around! You're just some... rock-obsessed teenager! What do you know about being a doctor?" I manage to zone out; I'm oddly familiar with this process. The first stage is denial, then grievance, then acceptance. I just hope the acceptance part comes fast enough to prevent the worsening of his condition.

I know not to take any of what he says personally. It's only fear talking.

Once he seems to be calming down, I try to speak again. "Mr. Mercury- Freddy, please. Try to comply, it will help you more in the long run."

"You're a quack, just like the rest of them! I'm leaving here, and you aren't going to breathe a word of this to anyone! Got it?" He throws the door open violently, sending it banging hard against the wall. It rocks back and forth, before the backlash closes it again.

I sit there, hands clasped, pondering whether to cry or to spend all night in the lab, finding a cure to my woes.

****

It wasn't too hard to find where the band was, when I realized they weren't at my apartment. Just find the paparazzi and poof, there they are. This night they happened to be waiting in line for a club, which was the perfect opportunity for the paparazzi to eat up every bit of celebrity presence that they can handle.

Still dressed in scrubs, I catch a few stares a I ease up the carpet leading into the club, until I find the band's place in line. Rosie is busy chattering away with some interviewer, but I slip beneath the ropes and attempt to achieve his attention anyway. I tug on the sleeve of his black leather jacket repeatedly, whining like a child.

"Rosie, Rosie, there's an emergency." He gives me a look of slight annoyance, and then sighs once he realizes it's me. "Wait just a minute." Then he goes back to talking. I don't feel like waiting a minute, so I turn and spot Slash.

I inch over to him lifelessly, and just stare at him until he realizes I'm here. He completely drops his conversation with Steven once he sees me, and grind like he always does. "Oh, hey Curly. When did you get here? Where have you been?" I release a small whimper, and blink.

"What's... what's wrong?" He pushes his hat back a little bit, his eyes flooding with concern. "The fucking world." I respond, as any angsty teen would.

"Aw," He mocks sympathy while simultaneously holding his arms out to me. I walk right into his embrace, sighing with pleasure once his arms secure me to his bare chest. "Did someone have a rough day saving lives?"

"It's not fair. Why does everyone I care about have to end up dying, one way or another?" He pats my hair softly, sighing. "What happened?" I let my eyes fall closed, shrugging. "I wish I could tell you, but it's a violation of the law to share patient details with anyone who isn't a doctor."

"And you care about the law... since when?" "Shut up," I smirk, tracing one of the tattoos on his arm with my fingers. "I'm just upset, I'll get over it." I just stand there, leaning into him. "So... you're not gonna get off of me?"

"Do you want me to get off of you?" Slash just grins, with a chuckle. "I didn't say that."

"Funny."

Steven seems to be in a constant state of stupor, grinning idiotically. He leans on Izzy's shoulder, lacing his fingers through his black and shaggy hair, tugging and pulling. Izzy only looks slightly uncomfortable, whispering urgently to his blonde friend. Steven always seems to be like this... it isn't normal.

I jump when I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly. I turn my head to see Rosie, angry of course, having caught us in this controversial position. "Um... hey?" I offer.

"What's the big emergency? Let her go, man." Slash rolls his eyes behind his curtain of hair before his arms go limp, flopping to his sides. I cross my arms, and defiantly look in another direction. "It's cool, I feel better now." Rosie's eyes narrow as he gazes at Slash, then me, then back to Slash.

"Is that so?" His voice is suddenly distant, so it surprises me when suddenly he's gripping my wrist tightly. "I'm sure you'd like a drink after a long day. Let's go inside."

"Not so fast," says yet another voice coming from behind the rope.

At first I'm scared, but the feeling is aleviated once I turn and meet the eyes of my father.

Okay, so kinda filler, kinda not...

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