This chapter contains mature content. Viewer discretion advised.

Julia

I woke early the next morning, earlier even than I usually set the Modo to rouse me. Well, I suppose "wake" isn't the right word to use, as I had yet to become fully aware. Perhaps I was only moseying about in that gray area between the conscious and the subconscious.

The room was dark and chilly; just as the weatherman had predicted, we had had a hard freeze the night before. There would be a lot of ice on the road as a result, so it was a good thing Danny and I had already fitted chains on the tires a couple of days before. I smiled, remembering we wouldn't have to worry about slipping around on the road half as much once we reached the Mississippi coast in a few days.

Not that I was cold by consequence- or uncomfortable. On the contrary, I felt marvelous. In my little corner of the darkness I was snug, warm, and safe. More than that; I felt absolutely rejuvenated, in a way that I hadn't been in what seemed like ages.

My eyes still closed, I tried to move my arms to stretch them up over my head, but I couldn't. For whatever reason the covers bound them too tightly for me to-

No, wait. Not covers. Arms.

Strong, muscular arms, cradling me like a child would a teddy bear.

My head clearing a little more, I realized Freddie was spooning me, his nose nestled against my shoulder while he held me close to his chest. Slowly I reached my hand down under the blankets and touched the bare thigh resting on top of my own. Freddie stirred a little, moving his arms to draw me even tighter against him. He let out a soft moan in his sleep, then was still.

My eyes popped open, and my insides flipped. Not that I could really see anything yet, since it was still too early in the morning and none of the lights were on. But I knew exactly what we looked like. I could feel it.

We weren't simply spooning. We were naked and spooning.

And suddenly all I could think about was last night.

I swallowed hard. Last night's impetuous interlude. It was real. Everything about it- the darkness, the heat, the thrusts, the moans, right down to the beads of sweat along his forehead reflecting the light from outside the bedroom- had really happened.

At least he had remembered to pull out just before his climax. He almost didn't make it. His thrusts all of a sudden sped up, became less gentle, more insistent. Though he couldn't stop what was inevitable, he did manage to pull himself out of me two seconds before it hit.

As hazy as my vision was at that moment, coming down from such a mind-blowing high, I remembered taking my finger, sliding it through one of the drops on my chest, and slowly raising it to my lips for a taste while Freddie clambered out of bed and limped into the bathroom for a moist hand towel to clean me up a bit. Once finished, he tossed the towel away and lowered himself down over me again. His eyes burned so intensely into my own, almost as if he was waiting for some kind of sign from me. A word, a look, a gesture, something- and I didn't know what to do.

So I simply smiled up at him, touching his cheek, and whispered the one thing I had brain enough to say at the moment: "Hi."

Freddie didn't reply right away. He held my hand there against his cheek for a few moments, eyes squeezing shut as he kissed its palm, then leaned closer and pressed his lips tenderly to mine.

"Hi," was all he said back.

I don't know if we made any further conversation; if we did, it's very unlikely it made any sense anyway. All I know is, shortly afterward, he rolled onto his side and gathered me to him, and in each other's arms we drifted to sleep.

Now, I drew a heavy sigh- and Freddie stirred. "...Good morning, dear," he yawned.

That was all he had to do to make me melt all over again. "Good morning," I whispered back while I squeezed my eyes closed and cursed us both in silent frustration.

"What time is it?" he murmured.

"Not sure." I leaned up a bit. "Hey, Modo-"

"Never mind."

"Oh, get over it," I said dryly. "Modo, what time is it?"

There was no answer.

I squinted against the dark. "Modo?"

But the thing didn't even light up at the wake word.

"It's not working," I said. "The battery must be dead." No wonder Modo 2 didn't pick up the phone call last night.

"Who needs it," Freddie purred, gently stroking my forearm with his thumb. "I already know what time it is, anyway."

"Really?"

"Mm."

"So what time is it?"

"It's too f---ing early. That's what time it is."

I couldn't help but giggle. "Aren't you helpful."

"Mmm... I do what I can." Freddie nuzzled his lips against my neck, kissing me at random intervals. On instinct I tilted my head back a little to make it easier for him.

Then he rolled us over so that now I was on top. I laid my head right over his heart, listening to its quiet, contented rhythm as it beat within his chest while he wrapped his arm around me and settled his head back against the pillow. Letting out a long sigh, he shut his eyes while my hand slid slowly up and down his middle, fingers sliding quietly through the dark fuzz that grew there.

"This is nice," he mumbled.

"Mm-hm."

"You don't have any idea... how much I've missed this..."

"Missed what?"

He didn't answer, unless a soft little hum counts as an answer.

Without realizing it my hand drifted as far as just under his belly button. Cheeks reddening, I stopped, and quick before I passed the point of no return. Freddie sort of chuckled as he sank back into sleep- and I felt my fingertips prickle, realizing that I was just as susceptible to him now as I had been the night before- maybe even more so.

True, at this moment we weren't doing much more than cuddling- but I could take no chance. I was reminded of the way I behaved in 1977, after Freddie and I made love the first time; once things got physical, they stayed physical. And, since we were both careless idiots that did absolutely nothing to prevent the potential consequences, Danny happened. Therefore, this had to be the first and last time. I was already in over my head now that I'd outright betrayed Stuart's confidence in me, but I didn't have to keep digging the hole deeper. More than that; I couldn't.

So, very carefully, I lifted myself away from him and started edging off the bed. I took the utmost care to keep from shaking him in any fashion, moving at a sloth-like pace.

Nevertheless, he still woke up to find me mid-escape, watched me move away through drowsy, half-closed eyes. "Mmm... what're you doing?" Freddie murmured.

"Just getting out of bed," I replied softly.

Freddie frowned and sat up, absently kicking the covers back as he did so. "Why?"

"I need to get dressed." I gave him a little smile as I pulled my nightgown off the floor. "Maybe you should do the same."

Freddie looked down, saw what I meant. "Right." He reached over, grabbed the blankets and pulled them back over his waist. "How's that?"

I smiled. "Oh, yes, makes a world of difference. What do you think?"

Freddie watched me as I drew my arms through the long sleeves. "I don't know. I um- rather prefer the other way myself."

"Which way is that?"

"The one without the negligee."

I balked just a little, cheeks flushing again. "That's not quite what I meant."

"No," he said. "But that's what I meant."

With a sigh, I turned back to Freddie to see him squinting hard at the wall clock (whose batteries I indeed had replaced).

"My God!" he cried after a moment. "Darling, it's four o'clock in the morning!"

"Is it?" I squinted as well.

"You don't have to be up for another hour." He reached his arms out to me. "Come on."

"Come on where?"

"Come back to bed."

His creamy, drowsy tone alone was almost enough to make me crawl back under the sheets and curl up against him closer than ever. I even hesitated for long enough to allow Freddie to take both my hands in his.

Before he could pull me back towards him, however, I shook my head. "Just give me a minute, I'll be back. In the meantime, why don't you try and go back to sleep, you'll need it this evening."

"Oh, very well," he grumbled. "Don't be long, then."

"I won't." With that, I kissed his forehead and lips, looking into his dark eyes a moment or two before letting go and stumbling out of the bedroom.

Incredible. Ten years later, I felt it still- the hunger, the need, the overpowering desire- things I had never felt for anyone else before or after him. I found other men attractive, of course; I thought Wes had a nice, sincere smile, for example, and Stuart had a pleasing face and body. What was more, when it came to conversation, Stuart and I indeed had a certain compatibility; he loved to talk, and I was so used to listening that I had made it my profession, so things worked out quite nicely there.

But Freddie was the only man I ever hungered for, the only man who ignited the flames of passion within my soul, the only man for whom I would ever play the fool.

I wanted so much to tell Freddie I loved him. I wanted to beg him to stay with me, but I had absolutely no right whatsoever to ask such a thing. What was more, I already knew what his answer would be- and I couldn't blame him one bit.

Silently I crept down the short hall and let myself into Danny's room, smiling at what I found there. There under his big Purple Rain poster, my son was burrowed under the heavy duvet, curled up in a fetal position, with Fry in a similar stance at the foot of his bed.

I drew closer, sat down at Danny's side a moment and studied his profile. Lying there, with his shaggy dark hair tousled, his glasses off, and face turned that way, he looked so much like the seventies version of his daddy. True, Danny took much more after me where facial features were concerned, but I could see it. Every day that passed seemed to reveal his hidden Parsi blood a little more. Maybe his face was getting a bit longer, not so square the way mine was; perhaps his cheekbones looked sharper, more defined, than they did yesterday. And of course, it didn't help that Danny just about idolized Freddie at this point, and had subconsciously decided he would emulate him in any way he could.

As of yet, though, no one aside of the Deacons (and one other person actually, but I always made a conscious effort not to think about the way that all went down; it was after all so long ago, and the things she said still haunted me enough to shape my dreams and help summon the darkness in my weaker moments) even noticed any likeness to Freddie Mercury. I had his myopia to thank for that; those glasses were lifesavers.

Glasses or no glasses, however, he was a beautiful boy, as any of Freddie's children would be. With a lump in my throat, I kissed the top of his head. Poor little guy, I said to myself, growing up with a mother like me- and without a father like him.

My eyes alighted on his guitar in the corner. My own acoustic was packed up in the attic, as I had had very little time lately to play it and there was after all no extra space in the house anyway. But for some reason I felt like strumming a tune or two, as if to salve my soul, help me momentarily forget about what was to come.

"I'm just going to borrow your guitar a moment, Daniel-san," I whispered. "I'll give it right back, I promise."

So I rose and took the Gibson off its stand, carried it with me into the kitchen. The radio on the counter was still playing music, still tuned to the seventies pop station that was also moonlighting as a Christmas music station. At the moment, though, it was playing one of my favorite Bee Gees songs, "How Deep Is Your Love." I pushed the Modo out of the way, shut off the music. As much as I liked that song, disco music had dominated last night's airwaves, and I was currently fairly burned out on the genre.

For the sake of security, I checked the front door to make sure Danny had locked up the front door when he came home last night. Thankfully, he had, like the good kid he was. He could be scatterbrained at times, and willful at others- but he was pretty responsible for his age.

I'm such a terrible mother, I sighed sadly. I wasn't even there to greet him when he came back. Good grief, I hope he didn't hear us doing what we were doing.

Then my eyes snapped open wide. Oh, God, I panicked. What if they heard us?

While under the influence of mixed alcohol, I had forgotten to give one single damn about the bug K had warned me about. But now it was morning- and now, it mattered. Big time. And the intermittent disco music playing through the kitchen stereo was surely too soft to deter any eavesdroppers with ulterior motives.

My knees went weaker with every downward step I took to the lower floor. No question, someone out there, one of the lab rats perhaps- with my luck, maybe even Stuart himself- had heard his groans, my screams, our sighs. And even if they didn't hear those things, Freddie's breathless announcement that he was "gonna cum" was likely picked up by at least half the neighborhood, let alone a hidden ubiquitous mike inside my own house.

I plopped down on the sofa where I had been sleeping, drew the guitar across my lap. This is great, I told myself. This is just peachy, isn't it? I should have stayed right where I was, in a chaste position, all alone. I wouldn't have surrendered if I had just stopped Freddie in his tracks, made him put me down- if I had done anything differently, just one thing, I wouldn't be in such a fix.

I drummed my nails against the side of the guitar faster, my thoughts becoming increasingly more tart. I was so close, too. For the whole week, I went without losing my head. So of course, I fold at the last minute. Nice going, Julia. Great job. I should have said "no." I should have stopped him. But I didn't, because I'm a fool. A stupid, lonely, impulsive fool that doesn't know how to let go.

And the best part? None of this affects Freddie. He's going home tonight without even a memory of all this. I'm the one who's left to pick up the pieces of my yet-again wrecked existence. But Freddie, he gets off scot-free, complete with plausible deniability. No guilt, no pain, no consequences.

No sooner had I thought it than I immediately regretted being so cynical. Yes, indeed, no consequences for Freddie- aside of dying a painful, slow death in six years.

All of a sudden I forgot about my own troubles, those already here and those on the way- and instead felt my heart tighten up inside, as if someone was clenching it in their fist.

The thought knocked the wind out of me, as it would each time I thought about it. The father of my little boy, a man dead for thirty-six years, would yet die again in another six- and there was nothing I could do. According to the lab rats' theory, Time was fixed, all destinies woven into the fabric of existence never to be unraveled by certainly any mortal hand. Freddie was going home no matter what; after all, AIDS wasn't going to contract itself.

I began to crumple up around Danny's guitar. Freddie was going to die, and die horribly, basically eaten up from within by a disease he could have avoided, he could have been spared, because of some very bad choices- which he might not have made, had someone else in turn not made equally bad choices of her own.

It was getting harder to breathe. Six years, I said to myself, rubbing my hand along the inside of my right arm. Freddie's only got six years to live.

And all because of one simple, insignificant female and the one simple, insignificant, yet extremely poor decision she made in a fearful moment.

All because of me.

"Mom?"

My head jerked up, the guitar almost tumbling right out of my lap and onto the floor. "Danny! Good Lord, you startled me."

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled down the stairs.

I shook my head. "No, sweetie, I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't get the chance to say good night to you last night. I was- really tired and I think maybe even a little drunk."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "Lauren and me played Super Smash."

And in spite of my low spirits, I actually had to fight myself not to spout the first thing that came to my mind, which was "What a coincidence, so did we."

Instead, I said, "Did you get to be Lucario?"

"No. Lauren beat me there. So I had to be Captain Falcon. But I won fighting against her every time." One corner of his mouth turned up in an evil little grin.

"What about Mr. Adams?"

"He was Link- and he beat both of us. It was sad. I mean, I was Captain Falcon -Captain Falcon- and I lost to some dumb elf guy!"

"That's nuts."

"I know, right?" He shook his head, unable to comprehend how that could have even happened. I smiled, wishing my problems were that small.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just wanted to, I guess. Where's Freddie?"

"Still in bed. So let's keep it down, okay?"

"Okay. What do you have my guitar for?"

"To play it."

Danny chewed on that a moment, then he informed me with hands on his hips, "I think yours is in the attic or something."

"I think you're right."

He blinked. "Then why do you have mine?"

"Because I didn't want to wake everyone by dragging that guitar case down out of there." And anyway, going up into the attic means I walk past the box where I threw Jim's book, and I really don't want to think about that whole thing at present, I think about it enough as is, I finished silently.

"Oh," he nodded, still looking fairly nonplussed that his guitar, a gift from John Deacon himself, was still in my hands.

"Wait a minute." I pretended to do a double take, then I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I get it now."

"What?"

"So it's okay if you play my guitar whenever you like, but I'm not allowed to touch yooooour guitar, is that it?"

"Mom!" he huffed. "No, I just-"

"It's all right, Danny, I see how it is. I do." I placed my hand over my heart, set the guitar on the floor so I could fall back against the couch cushion with a flourish. "To think..."

"Oh, come on, Mom-"

"After all I've done for you," I lamented, "THIS is the thanks I get!"

"Mooooom," he groaned.

"Can't even play my own son's guitar! What a world, what a world. What would Santa say?"

Danny's eyes widened. "Sh! He'll hear you!"

"I hope he does! It'll be just coal in the stocking for you this Christmas!"

"No, don't! Please, Mom, I-"

Before he could finish, I sprang at him.

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

Freddie

The clock on the wall now read four-fifteen, and the bed was getting quite cold.

What is taking her so long?

A quarter-hour was already too much time wasted; I couldn't take it anymore. I slid my feet over the bedside- and swore out loud when they hit the freezing floor. I drew on my dressing gown in a hurry while I fumbled to make a sturdy knot in the belt.

"Leave me here all alone in bed, make me wait," I mumbled under my breath, shoving my feet into slippers. "It's far too cold for this sort of thing, darling, I'm afraid I must-"

It was here that Danny's high-pitched, blithe little laugh pierced the chilly air. All of a sudden I scarcely noticed the temperature any longer and found myself rushing toward the stairs, following the sound of his laugh. I came just far enough downstairs to see them roughhousing, Julia digging her nails into Danny's ticklish ribs while he laughed so hard he wasn't even making any sound at one point.

"Yamete!" he giggled breathlessly. "Seriously, Mom, qui- quit it!"

"Shhh, you little maniac, you'll wake him!" Julia hissed through her own laughter.

"Then stop! Yamete! Stawwwp!"

"What do you say?"

"Pleeeease!"

"What else do you say?"

A pause to make room for more laughter, and then he squeaked, "Uncle! Please, uncle!" At that, she quit, but kept her arms wrapped tight around her son while they wound down. They just sat there, the color in their cheeks receding, chuckles ebbing back to normal with the Christmas tree glittering behind them.

It was beautiful.

"Here, how about this," Julia managed at last. "We'll trade off. You play a little something, then I'll play a little something, and then just go back and forth. Okay?"

"Okay," he giggled, picking up the guitar. He strummed it once, then winced when he heard a few sharp strings in the mix.

While he tuned the instrument, he looked up at his mother and asked, "Should we go get Freddie?"

I smiled- it was sweet he wanted to include me- but my heart sank a little when Julia shook her head. "No, let him sleep. He's going to have a rough time of it later."

"Oh, yeah," Danny sighed. "I forgot."

Part of me wanted to come all the way downstairs and join them in the fun anyway- but at the same time, I also wanted to watch them act like they would when it was just the two of them, without worrying about what sort of impression they were giving someone else. Danny had hidden there behind the railing several times and successfully went unnoticed; so, I too sat down quietly on one of the steps, and watched them in silence.

I had to admit, Danny was indeed quite good for his age. As might be expected, he played Prince songs almost exclusively that morning; most of them I actually didn't recognize, but I could tell from the style, his own personal obsession, and the way he was whisper-singing (because God forbid they should wake me with their music), that Prince was his artist of choice.

"What's it like?" he asked her all of a sudden.

Julia cocked her head. "What's what like, Danny?"

"Being drunk."

"Oh. Well..." She thought a moment, then she said, "You know that David Essex song, 'Rock On'?"

I covered my mouth to stifle the laugh- but Danny frowned.

"You know, the one that's kind of awkward and sloppy-sounding- goes 'Hey, kid, rock 'n' roll, rock on'-"

"Oh! Yeah."

"Well- it feels like that."

"Gross." He strummed the last chord of some quirky little song that seemed to be called "Starfish and Coffee" and passed the guitar to his mother.

"Yeah. I don't recommend it, it messes with your head, and you do stupid things you regret later."

I swallowed hard, wondering what she meant by that last part- and if it had anything to do with the night before. She didn't explain any further however and went straight into some folk song type thing, leaving me hanging out on a treacherous limb.

"Did Dad ever get drunk?" Danny asked her.

She smiled so sweetly as she searched her mind, it made me sick. "Sometimes. Not too badly, though- but of course, he and I are different. I can have one drink at the wrong time, and I can't walk in a straight line- but your dad could blow through a whole bottle of stuff and scarcely even bat an eyelash."

"Whoa..."

"Yup."

"Am I like that?"

"I don't think so. I think you're like me, you have my metabolism, so you probably have my body chemistry where alcohol is concerned too."

"Dang it."

"I know. Sorry." Then she went back to singing, her voice strangely melancholy, as it had been as she was dressing for bed last night:

Carefree Highway, let me slip away on you-
Carefree Highway, you've seen better days.
The mornin' after blues from my head down to my shoes...
Carefree Highway, let me slip away,
Slip away on you.

Danny spoke up once more. "Mom?"

"Yes, Danny?"

"Does, um- does Freddie have to go back today?"

Julia shook her head. "Tonight, sweetie. He's going back tonight."

"Oh, yeah. 'Cos you guys have a driving lesson first, right?"

A slight pause. "Uh- I'm- not sure, probably not, but maybe, that depends on him. K and the rest told me tonight, though, so that's all I know."

"Does he have to, though? Go back, I mean. Tonight."

Another pause, but this one was longer. Her shoulders seemed to sag a bit when she finally replied, "Well, Danny, I mean- I don't see why he would want to stick around here any longer than he already has in the first place."

"I do. He likes us." He lowered his voice to a whisper I could still hear from the stairs. "And I think he kinda likes you, too; you know, he likes likes you."

I covered my mouth. This was almost the exact same thing he said to me about Julia. Good Lord, was he trying to set us up, get us together?

My God. The little devious matchmaker.

I can't really say for certain, but personally I'm convinced that it was this that made me decide I loved that kid.

"Maybe, but- he wants to go home, I know it," she sighed. "He's- he's been a very good sport, but he's got so many friends back home, and his family-"

"No, he doesn't."

"Hm?" Julia looked up. My eyes widened, the pit in my stomach deepening. Danny, don't. Please.

"He doesn't have- Mom, he's not- uh-"

"What?"

Danny stopped, shrugged. "Nothing, it's just- you said he's a lot like Dad, and I just- don't know if he's ever coming back, and if Freddie likes-likes you, I thought, maybe-"

"Daniel-san, however you think he might feel about me, he's- he'd much rather be at home with his mates, his world, his cats-"

"And the koi."

"And the koi. Right."

"And his big old house with the twenty-eight rooms."

She laughed gently, passing him the guitar. "I guess you guys have been talking."

"A little." Danny shrugged. "He's so nice, Mom. You do like him, don't you?"

Her voice seemed to tighten a bit. "Of course I do, I - I like him very much."

"I mean, you guys did date, and stuff- and you guys danced, right?"

"We did. Freddie's a very good dancer." My face warmed with pride at that. What made you tell him we danced, angel? I asked her silently. What possessed you to do such a thing?

Danny thoughtfully played the beginning of "Purple Rain," and then he asked, in a very meek voice, "Did you dance with Dad, too?"

I crossed my fingers, hoping for the best. To my dismay, however, she nodded. "Of course."

"A lot?"

"I don't know about a lot- but I think we danced enough," Julia replied.

I watched the boy's face crease with a wide, relieved smile. "So- would you?"

"Would I what?"

"You know."

"No, I don't," she said a bit impatiently. "I may be a counselor, Danny, but that doesn't make me psychic."

"You know- would you stop dating Dr. Preus if Dad came back?"

The longest pause yet. "Oh."

Both Danny and myself sat waiting for her answer, holding our breath, each one hoping for a different single syllable- only for her to decide to be fucking political about it yet again and say coolly, "Danny, it's not that simple-"

"But what if it was?" God love him, the boy was persistent. "What if it was that simple? Would you go back to Dad?"

Julia swallowed quietly, hung her head while she slowly, steadily began to rub her hand along her arm. She took a long time to think over her answer- and the more seconds that passed, the more anxious I became.

This is not a complicated question, Julia! The man left you! He fucking left you in a lurch, didn't he? You wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for him, leaving you all alone with a child to look after! Isn't that right? The correct answer is "NO". N-O. Say it, dear! Say it for me! Sing it if you have to! Come on! Please!

And she looked her boy in the eye, looking especially worn out all of a sudden, and answered him.

"Yes."

The word pierced me through the heart. But Julia didn't stop there. She kept going.

"If it was that simple, Danny- if things were that easy, oh, God- I'd be with him again in a heartbeat. I'd never look back, and I'd never let him go. I- if things were that simple, that cut and dry, I would give myself to him all over again if it meant that I could keep him- and things wouldn't get in the way, and I-"

Her voice caught in her throat a moment at that last- but when she spoke again, it was clear. "But," she murmured, "things are not that simple, and Life is complicated, and- no matter how much you love someone, it doesn't- really make any difference."

Danny looked into her face. "But- you would?"

"Yes, I would, Daniel-san." She smiled, reached for him. The boy set the guitar down and moved a little nearer so she could hold him close. "I love your father so much."

My chest was aching, I couldn't breathe.

"You do?" he asked.

"Of course." She smiled, brushing his hair off his forehead. "After all, he gave me you, didn't he?"

That did it. I couldn't take another minute more of this. Without another word, without even the sound of my feet upon the steps, I hurried to the second floor, darted back into the bedroom.

I wasn't crying, of course not. I kept telling myself as much. There were no tears streaming down my face, even it felt like there were. As long as I didn't physically acknowledge them by wiping them on my sleeve, I was not crying. I simply would not believe it.

Hey, if it's good enough for Julia...