Submitted by @enka90 and @lexmercury

December 1, 1977

Julia

"Ah!" I exclaimed aloud.  "Here comes our ride."

A little way down the street, one of the numerous yellow cabs that dominated New York City's bustling streets slid into the right and began slowing down the closer it drew to the hotel entrance.  I stood waiting under the blue awning, hands thrust deep into my coat pockets while my breath made soft vapors on the chilly afternoon air. 

"Madison Square Garden, please," I yawned, climbing in.

The cab driver turned around and squinted at me.  "What?"

In a very poor Connor MacLeod impression, I repeated, "Madison.  Square.  Garden."

"You got it," he nodded.  With that, we were on our way. 

My eyelids felt a little heavy; although I had just awakened from a nice, refreshing catnap about fifteen minutes before, I nestled back for a bit more light shut-eye.  Despite us all having arrived in New York from Landover yesterday morning, I was still reeling with travel fatigue, while the boys had snapped to work like the tireless champions they were, ready to play another wave of high-energy concerts.  I felt like such a wimp by comparison; I knew life on the road was no picnic, but I never imagined it being this much of a drain.

Then again, I don't suppose being eighteen weeks pregnant helped much either.

"What's going on at the Garden?" the cab driver asked suddenly, rousing me again.  "If you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all," I replied.  "There's a concert tonight by, um- one of my favorite bands."

"Oh, yes!  Queen, right?"

"Right," I smiled.  "You like them, too?"

"Love 'em.  That 'Bohemian Rhapsody'- God, it's unbelievable.  I'd be going too, except I'm working."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Eh, 'salright; it's my job, you know?"  The cab driver waved his hand dismissively.  "It's still kind of early, though.  Isn't it starting in a few hours?"

"Well- I want to be first in line, make sure I get a good seat."

He whistled.  "You must be some kind of die-hard fan, then."

I tried to keep a straight face.  "Uh, yeah," I nodded.  "I guess you could say that."

So saying, the driver put a cassette tape into the stereo.  I gulped, praying to high heaven he wouldn't do what most every other radio station these days was doing, and play the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever.  Thankfully, the cabin instead resounded with "Second Hand News" from Fleetwood Mac's hit album, Rumours. 

I couldn't help but grin.  "Ooo, great choice."

"Fleetwood Mac fan, too, huh?" he noted.

"Absolutely," I smiled.  "Music fan in general, really.  Aside of disco.  You can keep that stuff."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he agreed.

It was warm in the cab. Maybe even a bit too warm. So I unbuttoned my big coat some, allowing it to flap open for a little while.  With a sigh, I ran my hand along the curve of the hard swell in my middle.

"Hey, you, guess what?" I whispered. "We're going to go see your daddy.  Are you excited?" 

I waited a moment, hoping for some kind of subtle response from within, but as always, all was still. That didn't keep me from smiling quietly, cooing more foolish little nothings to the as-yet nameless little life inside me that day by day grew more and more impossible to ignore.

I had started to show fairly recently, and it was the wildest thing to see the difference in how my clothes now fit on my body.  Everything seemed to be getting bigger, be it my waist, my feet, or my breasts -that last, might I add, being a development that Freddie found a very pleasing side benefit.  Alas, although the pregnancy was moving along quite smoothly, even despite the stresses that the tour brought along, it still was proving to make life somewhat difficult. 

And really, I suppose I was to blame for most of that.  Not that I was giving my raging hormones full control over my temperament, as easy and as tempting as it might have been on occasion. 

Granted, I still had my moments.  For example, on the night of the second show in Detroit, I just sat in the hotel bathtub with the shower running, and wept for thirty minutes straight without even knowing what I was crying for- something that earned me the somewhat embarrassing  nickname "Waterfall" from Roger, proving that Freddie hadn't been able to keep the episode to himself.  But I really was trying to keep a good face throughout.  These guys were rock stars after all, and to have some woman tagging along acting the wet blanket was the last thing they needed around for a tour to go over successfully.

That's why it surprised me that Freddie wanted me to come along on this tour in the first place. 

He had actually asked me to come along three days after I told him about the baby.  I was delighted beyond words, of course, but with the current circumstances, when I really thought it over, it didn't seem to be the best idea.  But he insisted just the same, on the grounds that he wanted to keep as close an eye on us as he could manage, and make sure we didn't get into trouble.  So I happily agreed- but with precautions. 

As soon as we touched down in Portland, the first stop on the North American tour, I kept myself as nondescript as possible.  Every time I went out in public, I wore sunglasses, walked around bundled up in a big dark coat so that no one could see my slowly but steadily changing shape, and made sure not to stand too close to any of the band members. 

Needless to say, this did not please Freddie- and to be honest, it didn't make me very happy either- but I didn't care. As much animosity as there existed between the band and the music media, it seemed safer, certainly now that I was expecting, to simply stay incognito. After all, he didn't want bad press any more than the others did- and if he so happened to be photographed holding hands with or, God forbid, kissing me, his pregnant girlfriend, we all knew what that could potentially mean for Queen. 

All the same, it was nice that he had invited me to come to that afternoon's sound check.  Well, then again, maybe "invited" wasn't the right word to use; "instructed" would be closer.  Softly singing under my breath, I pulled his note out of my pocket and read it to myself for the twenty-second time today:

Good morning, my darling.  You look so peaceful, I don't want to rouse you. 

I'd like to see you before we take the stage, so do drop by the Garden round 5:00, before the crowds arrive, and give me a kiss for luck. Don't forget your pass, or else the guards won't let you through.

All my love,
Freddie

It was a sweet, straightforward, and therefore, very strange note, to be honest.  No naughty comments about us making love the night before, no x's or o's, no "kitten," "angel," or even a simple teasing "Waterfall."  He hadn't used any exclamation marks, or even so much as mentioned the "little one."  Something was definitely weighing on his mind.

"Here!" the driver announced.  I peered out the foggy window, smiled at the sight of the arena.  To my surprise, there were already quite a few people in line outside the front entrance, as the doors had not yet opened. 

"Sir, would you mind please taking me round back?" I asked. 

The driver looked in the rear view mirror at me, impressed.  "Sure thing!" he said.  "I doubt they'll let you in that way."

"You may be right," I shrugged.  "But let's try it just the same."  Inwardly, however, I chuckled.  I patted my pocket, felt the reassuring stiffness of my backstage pass inside. 

Once we were idling right outside the back door, I started buttoning my coat again.  "Here goes nothing."

"Good luck," he said. 

"Thanks, I'll need it," I whispered in feigned uncertainty.  Opening the door, I slowly eased myself out of the seat.  Lately I had learned the hard way not to stand up too fast, or else I found my vision swimming, while the world turned inside out and floated around in ecstasy. 

And yes, I am well aware of what I just did there.  Please forgive me.

"Do you want me to wait here just in case?" he asked.

"No, it's okay," I smiled.  "Thanks though."  So saying, I paid the driver his fare, then ambled on over to the entrance where a formidable-looking couple of guards stood at attention.  I couldn't help a slight stir of worry in my stomach, but still I approached.

"Hi," I said awkwardly.

One guard held up his hand.  "You don't have access to this door, lady.  The front entrance is back the other way."

Nervously I fished around in my pocket and pulled out my backstage pass.  With shaking hands, I showed it to them.  The two of them looked it over a few seconds while my heart pounded at an agonizing rate.

Finally the other guard shrugged, handing it back.  "That'll work," he said, unlocking the door. 

I clutched at my chest.  "Thank you so much," I gasped.  "You almost had me worried there a minute."

"We just want to be sure," the first guard said.  "Step right in, ma'am- and uh, enjoy the show."

Tossing a little wave to the visibly dumbfounded cab driver, I entered the long, smoky corridor before me, the door closing behind.

As soon as I heard the door click shut, I removed my sunglasses and draped my coat over my arm.  Very faintly I could hear the intermittent bang of drums and wail of Brian's guitar as the boys rehearsed for tonight's show.  I didn't have the first clue where I was going; Freddie had not given me any helpful hints as to what I should look for in signage or lights in order to find the dressing room.  So I just followed the music.

And within five minutes, I was hopelessly lost.  Shortly after the music cut out, I turned down the wrong corridor somewhere, and when I tried to go back the way I came, I didn't know which way to go.  Everything looked the same.  Once more, my pulse began to quicken- and a cramp settled into my nose, alerting me that another of my pregnancy-enhanced crying jags was imminent. 

Calm down, it's okay, no reason to panic, I told myself.  The little guy doesn't need any unnecessary stress, remember what the doctor said?  Just find somebody who works here and ask for directions-

"Eve!  That you?" an unmistakably English voice called.

I whirled- and my heart soared.  "Mr. Hince?"

I could see him roll his eyes even from two hundred feet down a dark hallway.  "Love, will you ever learn to call me Peter at least?"

"Sorry, I just- I don't know, I'm a little frazzled I guess," I sighed.  "I got lost."

"So I see," he quipped.  "They've just started sound check.  I'll take you to the stage."

I gulped.  I appreciated that Ratty didn't mind me dropping in like this, but I had no desire whatever to get in the way of professionals.  "Uh- I could just wait in the dressing room till Freddie's got a minute-"

"That'll be in about an hour or two.  You want to wait that long?"

"Not really."

"Right.  Then come on!"

With no further hesitation, Ratty led me down the way I had come, then turned a different corner.  "It's a big venue, I don't blame you for getting a little criss-crossed," he remarked.

"How'd you know to find me?"

He shrugged.  "Freddie wanted one of us on the lookout, just in case you couldn't find your way around."

He knows me too well, I giggled to myself.  "Hopefully you weren't waiting too long."

"Nah.  I just came around not three minutes ago.  Nice timing."

"I try." 

With Ratty's guidance we were out of the maze in a matter of minutes.  Soon we were walking through the stage left entrance, whereupon Ratty left my side to help his fellow roadies that were running around like little ants, putting the finishing touches on the lighting rig configuration and checking the condition of the sound equipment.

I looked around for Freddie, but I couldn't see him. None of the band were out here at the moment, in fact, and I was too worried about slowing anybody down to ask where they were.  So, a bit aimlessly, I slipped around in front of Freddie's grand piano and sat down, dangling my legs off the edge of the stage. Fleetwood Mac still rolling around in my head, I sang "The Chain" softly to myself, looking around the multitude of empty seats.  It floored me to think how every last one of them would be filled up with enthusiastic fans, wildly cheering the same genius music-makers that I at this point now considered no less than my family.

"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again," I sang.  "I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain..."

A few seconds later, I was startled by the sound of that same song's classic bass riff booming behind me.  A bit unsteadily, I stood, looking up over the piano- and found myself staring right back into Deacy's slyly grinning face while he plucked the riff one more time. 

"Hey there!" I laughed, hurrying over to give him a hug.  "I was wondering where you guys went.  Thought I'd scared you off or something."

John set down his guitar to return the embrace. "It's good to see you like this."

"Like how?"

"This," he said, gesturing at my clothes.  "I think this the first time in a long while that I've seen you without those silly glasses.  You look like a secret agent or something with those on."

"A pregnant secret agent?  Right."

John rolled his eyes.  "You know what I mean."

"It's for the best, though.  The glasses and the coat and the sneaking around, I mean."

"If you say so," John murmured doubtfully.  "You staying for the show tonight?"

"No, I don't think so," I sighed.

"No?"

"I'd like to, but I don't think that would be smart.  The fewer people who know about me- and this one here," I patted my middle, "the better."

"Does Freddie know that's how you feel?"

"Oh, sure he does.  I've told him."

"Hm," was all he said- but the look on his face spoke volumes.

So I asked, "What are you thinking about?"

He opened his mouth, but didn't reply, as we were interrupted by the drummer, who had walked on stage just now, twirling his sticks in the air.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Waterfall!" he rasped cheerily.  "It's about time you paid a call on us."

"Why, Sneakers, am I to understand that you've missed me?" I jibed.

Roger grinned.  "A bit, I admit.  It's so weird!  I mean, you've been following us around the country for two weeks now, but you haven't spoken three words to us since we left England!  It's like you're some kind of stalker or something."

"Um, I prefer the term, 'silent groupie,' if it's all the same to you," I sniffed. 

"Yeah, yeah," he scoffed. 

"Where's the others?"

"Oh, they're actually having a bit of a tiff."

What else is new, I said to myself.  "What over?"

John shrugged.  "Dunno.  I'm not getting involved."

I turned to the blond.  "Well?"

He hesitated.  "Uh- I don't really know either, they're just- I think their nerves are a bit raw, or something, because one, as you know, Brian's parents are supposed to be in the audience tomorrow-"

"I hadn't heard this!" I gasped.  "No wonder, then."

"Yeah, they are- and all that implies.  Supposed to, anyway.  That's what I've heard.  Freddie, though?  Um- I don't, uh- I don't know what's up with him.  He's just sort of running on a short fuse today. All pins and needles, you know?"

I thought back to his uncharacteristically humorless note, and nodded.  "So where are they?"

As soon as the question was voiced, the sound of the Red Special echoed through the Garden.  I turned toward the music's source, spotted the curly-haired fellow right next to Roger's drums, tuning the instrument.  

"Never mind, I'll ask him," I mumbled. 

Taking my life in my hands, I walked up to Brian.  I didn't enjoy the venture, I assure you.  By contrast with the rest of the band, Brian made me increasingly more nervous each time we interacted.  I don't know why.  Maybe it was the sheer fact that he didn't seem to have any opinion of me in any way, shape, or form.  To be honest, he seemed more annoyed by me than anything else, no matter how scarce I had attempted to make myself across the last five months I'd spent among them.

Before I could say his name, Brian looked up into my eyes, and did a very poor job of masking the complete indifference in his voice. "Oh, it's you again.  Hello."

"Yeah, me again," I repeated quietly.  "Hi."

He didn't mince words.  "Freddie's in the dressing room."

"The dressing room?" I repeated, remembering Ratty's assurance that it was the last place Freddie would be.  "Seriously?"

"Yes, Eve.  I ought to know, I just came from there."

"Which way is that?"

He pointed.

"Thank you.  Sorry to interrupt."

"It's alright."

With a little shiver, I headed toward the dressing room.  Ratty, you disappoint me, I quipped inwardly.  As penance, I shall never cease to call you anything aside of Mr. Hince.  Ha ha.

Luckily, I didn't have to go far.  In a room a little way beyond the stage right entry, I could hear Freddie's melodious cadence.  Cautiously I tiptoed around the door to see him standing a little hunched over with his back to me, swearing profusely under his breath. 

"...His f---ing problem?" he hissed to himself.  "It's not like we'd be making a habit of it anyway, she'd never wear it- but what's the first thing his head goes to?  Tomorrow!  Tomorrow is not today, it's tomorrow, for f---'s sake!  But he's just got to jump to a f---ing conclusion, before he even attempts to- God!  Every f---ing time, it's the same thing, he goes, 'But we haven't rehearsed this or that before, this is so short notice, Freddie, it could all fall apart, nyeh nyeh nyeh-'"

I covered my mouth.  I had never heard Freddie mimic Brian's voice before, but now that I had, I wanted to absolutely die laughing.  It was that good- or that bad.  I'm really not sure which.  Either way, the lower, more breathy, and less refined accent in which Freddie had spoken that last bit was either an attempt at Don Vito Carleone from The Godfather, or, more likely, a self-gratifying dig at his own band mate.

Despite my best efforts however, Freddie still heard me chortling.  He whirled, saw me standing there- and in one swift, semi-panicked motion he tossed some small black thing into the nearest corner while his face turned a healthy shade of watermelon.

After a beat or two, he asked, "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"But, my prince, the door was open," I said innocently.

"No excuse."  But the good-natured smirk now curving his lips assured me all was well between us at least- further proven when he reached out for me, wrapped me in his arms, and kissed my lips.

"How are you feeling, angel?" he whispered.

"I'm all right," I said.  "A little sleepy, and a little warm- but overall I'm fine."

"Is he still tiring you out?" Freddie frowned at my belly.  "I thought I told him to stop that."

"Yeah, well, he clearly wasn't listening," I smiled. 

"Did he move for you today?"  This was one of the things Freddie looked forward to the most about this experience.  He was fascinated by the idea of being able to feel the baby moving around inside of me.  Every day since I had entered the second trimester, he asked me if I felt any motion where the little nipper lived.

"Nope.  Still playing possum."

He leaned down closer.  "Mm, we'll soon fix that."

"Don't yell at him, or else he might never come out," I giggled.  "He'll be too scared."

"Already taking his side, I see," Freddie sighed.  "We're so doomed."

"No, just- go easy on him, he's barely the size of a yam now."

"Mm."  With that, he bent down so near my small belly that his lips grazed my loose black sweater as he spoke, the tenderness in his voice hardly matching his words.  "All right, listen, you little yam- you're very lucky your mum's asked me not to come down hard on you-"

I rolled my eyes.  "Oh, please, you old softie-"

"But I'm warning you," he continued, "if you don't shape up in there and give us a little kick or two to show you, um- show you're serious about this, then, uh..."

"Then what?" I teased.

"Then- there's going to be a problem!" he finished.  "All right?  Good.  Glad we understand each other."  He looked up at me.  "Do you think he understands?"

"Sure, but I doubt he'll do much about it," I sighed.  "He's stubborn- like his daddy."

Freddie rolled his eyes, but he didn't disagree with me.  Planting a kiss against my navel, he stood back upright, took my hand, and drew us back out toward the stage itself, where the rest of Queen were running through bits of "Stone Cold Crazy" so that the sound crew could get a good idea of the balance there.

"So," I said as we walked.  "What's the story?"

"Hm?" Freddie was confused. 

I showed him his note.  "What brought this on?"

He frowned.  "Is it really so strange that I should want you to kiss me good luck tonight?"

"No- but I can't help but wonder what else there is to it.  There must be a string."

"Well- to be honest, there is indeed sort of more to it, actually," he admitted. 

You don't say.  "Go on."

"It was, um- a sort of idea I had, in fact Brian and I were just- discussing it a moment before you walked in."

"I'm listening."

He sat down at the piano.  "Well as you know," Freddie began, "a lot of people have asked me who it was that sang with me on that track, 'My Melancholy Blues.'"

I eyed him warily.  "Yes?"

"Right.  And as you also know, I've been very careful to sort of deflect away from their questions about it, because you don't want me telling them."

"Uh-huh."

"Mm.  And, uh- I know we've been over this before, that you're not at all keen on, um- sort of live performing or whatever, and I do understand, but, um..."

I folded my arms with a sigh.  "Freddie, where is this going?"

He shrugged, and came straight to the point.  "Darling, just for tonight, would you join us on stage for 'Melancholy Blues'?"

My jaw dropped.  "What?"

"My reaction exactly," Brian put in from a little distance away.

"Freddie, you've got to be kidding me," I exclaimed.  "Aren't you?"

"He's not," Roger quipped. 

Freddie shook his head, and took my hand. "Just this once, dear. I'll never ask you to do it again, I promise, but tonight- tonight, can't you make an exception?"

"I can't get up in front of all those people looking like this, and sing with you!"

"Darling, you look lovely, what's the-"

"I don't mean that.  I mean this!"  I gestured towards my bump. 

"Again, you look lovely- and what's more, no one's going to see it anyway.  You're not that big, no one in the front row will notice, and neither will everyone else.  And there's certainly no reason for any of us to bring it up otherwise, so- will you?"

"Freddie, I love you, but we haven't ever sung together on that song since we recorded it.  I'm not even sure if I know how it goes anymore."

He smiled cleverly.  "How lucky that we're here at the sound check, and we can find out for ourselves- wouldn't you say?"

The next thing I knew, Roger was counting off with John standing ready with his bass, while my prince sat at the piano with me standing at his side, mike clenched in my hands, standing off to the side and waiting for Freddie's cue.  I don't believe this, I said to myself.  This is exactly what the doctor did NOT call for!

After a certain point in the song, Freddie waved his hand, and I hustled out as fast as I could.  The lights in the "Crown" flashed unevenly over us while the roadies incessantly checked them line by line, section by section.  But still, I forced myself through the second verse and the harmony parts.  My condition was making me insecure, so I didn't sing out as strongly as I had in the studio, and the balance wasn't as nice as I had remembered it being.  Perhaps that was simply because the crew still needed to adjust the acoustics, but I didn't care.  I felt terribly vulnerable, even now with only Queen and the roadies around.

Nevertheless, there was no point in arguing any further. Freddie clearly had made up his mind. Tonight I was harmonizing with him on the stage of Madison Square Garden, and no questions asked.

"Not bad," he decided.  "What do you think, darlings?"

John gave a thumbs-up; the other two, who were still not the tune's greatest fans, gave more lukewarm responses, but they were enough for Freddie.  "See?" he told me.  "They'll love us."

"Uh-huh, wonderful," I nodded, handing the mike to one of the crew.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back-"

Freddie's brows rose.  "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get something to eat."

"Wait!  Why?"

"Because we're hungry, that's why."

"Are you coming back?"

"Of course I am, I'm singing tonight after all," I said a little tartly.  I snatched up my coat, put my arms through the sleeves.  "Is there a phone anywhere around here?  I need to call a cab."

Freddie stood, gently took hold of my arm.  "Darling, you are coming back, aren't you?"

I looked at him.  His expression startled me a little- and I had to ask, "Freddie, why is it so important to you that I sing with you guys tonight?"

He stared at the floor a moment.  "I could tell you now," he whispered, his demeanor downshifting so unexpectedly I forgot to be irritated, "but it would spoil the surprise."

I squinted.  "Surprise?"

"That's all I'll give away," Freddie quipped.  "Now, promise me you'll come back in time for the show."

"I promise," I nodded. 

"You're not just saying that?"

"Freddie, I promised I wouldn't leave you months ago, and I stayed," I said, looking him deep in the eyes.  "A promise is a promise.  Why should this be any different?"

He seemed to relax a little when I said that.  With one light kiss to my lips, a gentle touch to my middle, and a wink of his eye, Freddie nodded.   "Right, then, off with you."

My new cab arrived even faster than the last, though this fellow was not half as friendly.  But I didn't mind.  All I cared about was eating something- and fast, so I could head back to the boys. 

We were already rolling when I asked, "Where might the nearest food place be?"

"There's a McDonald's a little further up the road," the guy suggested.

"That's fine, we'll do that," I nodded.  Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the drive-through. 

"Okay, let's do this quick," I murmured, patting my pockets for cash. "I need to be back up there very soon- wait." 

My face paled.  For some reason I couldn't feel my pass.

I reached down into my pocket, discovered that aside of a quarter and two dimes, it was empty.  I felt all around myself, searched every possible crevice where i might have accidentally stashed it.  Nothing.

And then, a bit too late, I remembered- and swallowed hard. 

I was the biggest dunce in the world.  I had left my backstage pass on the floor.  I had set it down at my side while I was waiting for Freddie, and never picked it up. 

Aside of my backup general admission ticket, I had no access to Queen- and no access to my prince.

Oh, man.  Freddie's gonna kill me.

TO BE CONTINUED...