Julia

My eyes darted about the room, which seemed to swim in eerie synchronization to Falco's "Rock Me Amadeus."  I was nestled on top of a small, miraculously vacant table set well away from the dance floor, tapping my foot to the beat and dragging on a complimentary cigarette while I formulated a plan.

Yes, you read that right.  I smoked now.  Not very much, though, and not very often.  I'd started six years ago and got to the point where I smoked half a pack a day, but in the last eight months I'd been putting some real effort into quitting.  I'd cut my cigarette intake down to three a week, at the very most.  These days, I only smoked when I felt strung too high and extremely nervous, and I needed something external to relax my raw nerves that wasn't mentally detrimental, like alcohol.  This was one such time.

It had been only half an hour since I landed, but to me it might as well have been half a day.  I had no idea whether Danny had been here for hours, or if he had even shown up yet at all.

My black boots were killing me.  It would have been so simple just to tear them off and run around Ms. Henderson's, barefooted.  I certainly wouldn't have been the first one; despite the occasional bit of broken glass here and there, quite a few outlandishly-dressed revelers hopped around the dance floor, their feet freed from shoes' constraints.  However, I had practically defined myself by going around barefoot when I first visited Freddie in 1977.  I couldn't take that chance.

My comm link beeped.  "K to Julia.  Any luck? Over."

"Not so far," I murmured.  "I'm not even sure if he's here yet.  What time is it now?"

"Quarter past midnight on your side; it's nearly eight-thirty here at Princeton."

"Would you like the current time in Dubai as well?  Or Stockholm?" I heard C dryly remark in the background. 

C, you are just on tonight.  Seriously, what is your problem?

Ignoring him, I asked, "Is the harness still in good shape?"

"Yes, although it is twenty percent weaker than before.  You'd better get a move on.   The grip loosens faster, the more time that passes.  I'd say you've got roughly another hour and a half at most, before we lose this connection."

"Thanks for telling me," I breathed.  "Looks like I'm going to have to mingle then."

"I guess," K agreed.  "When you find him, make him take the capsule, and give us a yell once he's swallowed it.  The thing takes at least two minutes to kick in fully, but if we have the heads-up we can find it faster."

"Will do," I said.  "Over and out."

I had tried staying in the background all this time, hugging the walls in order to protect myself, but now it was clear that wasn't going to work.  All I'd achieved were four requests to dance and at least three propositions for, shall we say, misconduct, by men and women both. On the bright side, I hadn't caught sight of Freddie yet.Alas, I'd have to get in the thick of things, it seemed, and play the concerned, uptight mother asking people if they'd happened to see a little dark-haired boy with glasses run by, if I was to actually catch him.

So I slipped off the table, mumbling "Amadeus, Amadeus" along with Falco.  I eyed the table of food as I moved past, but decided against it.  Even the food was black and white- if I remember correctly, a lot of caviar and mashed potatoes.  My stomach would have to go unsatisfied for a while; I wasn't hungry enough to resort to fish eggs slathered on a cracker.

One of the waiters, a well-dressed man with a frazzled smile, approached me, lowering his full drink tray, "Champagne, Fräulein?" he asked.

When I politely turned him down, he seemed to twitch, almost as though the answer didn't compute.  I bet he didn't hear that word much that night.  However, a second later, he found himself a taker.  Some big, loud, and very German woman with hard but bleary eyes made like she was going to steal the whole tray from him, then laughed and settled for two brimming glasses of Moet et Chandon (I think that's what it was; after all, the song does not go, "She keeps a Dom Perignon in her pretty cabinet...").  I watched her down them both within seconds of each other, just in time to put the empty glasses back on the waiter's tray before he left. 

The woman fiddled with her headband and suddenly looked at me as if to ask what I was staring at her for.  I just smiled back and clapped. 

"Brava, dahling!" I cooed in the heavy Russian accent that I had demonstrated for Stuart.

She blinked, drunk and confused.  "Vy do you clap?"

"You drink like champion," I replied.  "Brava."

The masked man beside her just laughed, but she seemed to take offense.  She took an unsteady step toward me.  "Who are you?"

"Vat?" I asked, squinting.

"You vear mask," she said.  "I do not know you.  Vat is your name?"

I was so tempted to say, "Miss Kitty Cute-Ass, at your service, my dear Barbara Valentin," for that was what Freddie called me once, and Barbara was her name.  Instead I kept with the shortened version, and said, "Miss Kitka, you may call me."

I put out my hand to shake hers, but she had already lost interest in the conversation; her companion had made an offer she couldn't refuse.  Barbara turned from me then to go do a few lines with her friend of the hour. 

So I moved closer to the dance floor, where "99 Luftballons" was beginning.  But I wasn't there to dance.  I was there to push past people and squint against the darkness and rave lights as they flashed intermittently with the beat.  Alas, I saw no sign of Danny out here in the outskirts.  I did, however, have the immense privilege of briefly brushing past a very drunk and very hot (not as in looks, but as in temperature; I couldn't tell whether he was more soaked with sweat or alcohol) Irishman, whom I instantly recognized as Jim Hutton.  He was squinting and searching the crowd too, but more likely for Danny's father as opposed to Danny himself.  I tried not to think about it very long, tried to stay focused on my quest.

As I did, I heard a man who was facing away from me and decked to the nines in drag, say to someone else, "...Not sure where they went, probably dancing or something-"

And before I could stop myself, I turned and leaned into the person's ear to whisper, "Right you are, darling!"

With a little anxious giggle I sneaked away from the couple.  But before I could, the man spoke, using a name I hadn't been called by in years:

"Harley?"

My eyes widened. Only one person in the entire world called me Harley Quinn.

I turned around, and stared in disbelief. "...Is that you, Straker?" I cried, forgetting to put on the accent.

"In the flesh!" Peter Straker's made-up face split in a huge grin.  "Is that you, Harley Quinn of the Big Yellow Taxi?"

I hid my eyes, then looked up again and shrugged with a little embarrassed smile.  And before I knew it, there were two arms wrapped tightly around me and my face was being smothered by oversized false breasts.  Quickly I returned the hug, but still kept my eyes moving around the room.  I couldn't afford to get too distracted.

"Hattie!  Oh, my God, wow!  I don't believe- I mean, how did you even recognize me?" I asked.  "It's been ten years- and I'm wearing a mask!"

"Don't be ridiculous, love!"  Peter crooned.  "I'd know that face of yours anywhere.  What, you think a little black frame and cat ears are supposed to throw me off?"

On one hand I was deeply flattered that after ten whole years Peter still recognized me so easily; on the other, however, I was deeply disturbed for the exact same reason.  If Straker, with whom I spent much, much less time, could identify me so effortlessly, supposing I should run into someone else who left a much, much greater emotional imprint...?

"Anyway, Freddie said he wanted us all in drag!" Peter declared.  "Pray, what's your excuse?"

"Hey, I've seen many rule violators tonight.  I just figured he wanted costumes, and I had this one, so, yeah.  Besides, nothing compares to you.  You went all out."

"I just can't get over that you're here, Harley," he gushed.  "I was thoroughly convinced that you two were- shall we say, disconnected?"

"Life is a mystery," I dismissed.  "But do tell, how've things been on your end?"

"Oh, steady, quite steady.  Got a nice little set-up on the show Connie at present, so I'm certainly keeping busy."  He winked, fluttering his false eyelashes.

"That's great!  I mean, I heard you were also in some Alice in Wonderland movie-"

"Oh, yes, that," Straker sighed.  "That could have done better, what with all the notables involved- me included.  It did indeed cement my role as the Mad Hatter though.  I thought of you as soon as they gave me the part; you saw it coming well before I!"  He lifted his glass as if to toast me, but then he noticed I had no drink in my hand.  "What's this?  You're not drinking?"

"Nah," I began, "I'm-"

"Come now, Harley, don't let's fall into old habits!"  To some nondescript attendant, he called,  "Waiter, this one's dry!  Come quick!"

"No, Hattie, I mean it.  I'm trying to be smart."

"Why- why you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No, but- now that we're on the subject of kids, I'll tell you, I am looking for someone."

"Who?" he arched his brow.  "The birthday boy?"

"Not -uh, not yet," I said carefully.  "I guess what I'm wondering is- you haven't seen a little fellow run by here, have you?  Boy about this high, with glasses?" I held my hand up just under my chest.

Peter looked confused.  "Can't say I have- but he could have passed me and I just didn't see him."

"Uh-huh," I frowned, biting my lip.

"Is he yours?"

I didn't answer, because I wasn't really listening anymore.  Through the club speakers, Nena was melting into Prince's "1999."  "On that happy note, Hattie, I'm going to have to keep looking for him.  Don't tell the man I'm here, all right?"

"What?"

"I, uh- I want to surprise him, he hasn't seen me yet," I lied. "And uh- let's keep mum about the boy as well.  I'm trying to get him back home without making a scene- see, he wasn't supposed to come along, this isn't exactly a, shall we say, family friendly soiree?"

"Ah, yes," Peter nodded and started to bow, when he remembered he was wearing a dress and instead curtsied.  "As you wish, Harley."

"Thanks, Hattie," I grinned, kissing his powdered cheek.  "It's good to see you, old friend."  With that I turned and left Straker to his mischief.

"Well, that was helpful," I heard C mumble in my ear.

"Can we do without the commentary unless it's relevant, please?" I said.

Stuart cut in, "How's this for relevant: the harness is already at forty percent."

I gulped.  "That's very relevant.  Oh, Danny, where are you?" 

I was heading back to the dance floor, but this time with a new, faint hope.  Nothing charged up Danny more than Prince's music, and "1999" was a killer.  Perhaps now he'd made the plunge.

Unable to keep from bouncing up and down just a little on my aching feet, I lightly danced around, keeping my eyes as sharp as I could.  I wasn't sure what else was in the air besides cigarette smoke, but whatever it was, it was doing something to my head. I felt a little lighter than before. Not high, exactly, but maybe a contact high; I'd been here for over thirty minutes, all the craziness around me was bound to rub off in some degree.

But as the minutes ticked by, my discouragement began to truly outweigh my optimism. I can't find him like this. There's too much going on, even if Prince is on. If anything, I bet he's hiding somewhere dark and safe- if that's even possible to find in this place.

Before long, Prince became Pet Shop Boys- and you couldn't pay Danny to enjoy anything by them.  So, stomach wrenching with even stronger worry, I started worming my way back out of the hazy throng, still keeping my eyes peeled and down just in case. At last I reached the outer edges, where I could breathe freely again- that is, more freely. 

Someone copped a feel as I brushed past them; had I not been so distracted I likely would have whirled around and slapped their face. I lifted my hair up and fanned the back of my neck to cool off. God, but it was hot in there.

And that's when I heard someone shout indignantly, "All right, who brought the feckin' kid 'ere?"

I jerked my head up.  "Danny?" I shouted over the ruckus. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a short blur of a black hood, blue jeans, and white sneakers dart from the outskirts.  I didn't realize how worried I actually was until I saw him.  It was the department store all over again.  Forgetting my blistered heels, I followed close behind.

Danny may have been slippery, but he wasn't very fast, thankfully.  I caught up to him in seconds and grabbed his wrist.  He screamed with fright, at first not recognizing me.

"Sweetie, it's me!" I said, lowering my mask.  "It's okay!"

His eyes widened, and he threw his arms around me with a happy cry of "MOM!"

I bent down and returned the hug quickly.  If I had had my way, I would have stood there and held onto Danny for much longer, kissing him and driving into his little head countless admonitions about all the things that could have happened to him but didn't- you know, typical Mommy stuff- but we had to go. 

"K here," my friend crackled in.  "You got him?"

"I got him," I answered joyfully.

"Outstanding!  You two get somewhere safe, and have him take a tracker just to be on the safe side.  Anything can happen."

"You got it!" I cried.  To Danny I said.  "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Oh, yeah!" he agreed, shivering.  "I hate VR!"

"Sweetie, this isn't VR," I sighed.

He looked shocked.  "Huh?  But K said-"

"I'll explain later, little phantom," I said shortly.  "Right now, we gotta blow- but in such a way no one sees.  Where's the cloakroom?"

Danny shrugged.  So, rolling my eyes, I turned around and asked the person nearest me, "Pardon me, which way-"

I balked a moment, because of who it was, but the green eyes under the straw hat didn't seem fazed by any stretch, so I went on as naturally as possible, this time as the Russian, "Uh- vich vay is ze cloakroom?"

Mary pointed behind her, and spoke two words.  "That way."

"Zank you," I bowed, and added before I could stop myself, "Also, I love ze hat."

And we ran.  I still don't know for sure if Mary recognized me.  I don't think she did, I really hope she didn't, but at this point it really doesn't make a lot of difference. 

I chose the cloakroom because it seemed the least likely spot where two or more people would go to do lines, hard drugs, shots, or each other.  As subtly as possible did we beeline for the front of the club, darting back into where we'd first arrived. 

"So all this stuff is real?" Danny asked as I shut the door behind us.

"Very real," I said, reaching into my bosom for the capsule container.  

"But K told me T-Rod was like the Matrix."

"Yeah, he told me that, too, at the end.  But it's very real- as real as you are."

His jaw dropped.  "Then- then-"

"Danny, you weren't inside T-Rod, you were in Speck, which is a time machine plus a whole bunch of other stuff apparently.  We're in the mid 1980s in Germany- and K is waiting for us forty-two years from now.  So we'd better move."

"Oh," Danny looked even more scared.  "Then we're really in trouble."

"What?" I squinted.  "Why?"

"There's a mean man, I think it was maybe the Freddie guy- I think he told on me."

"What did he look like?"

"Sort of blond hair, dumb mustache, black shirt-"

"That's not Freddie, that's Paul."  My heart pounded faster.  His personal manager, the infamous Paul Prenter, had seen us.  Oh, now we really had to shake it.  With shivering hands I tapped one of the trackers into my palm.

Danny was confused.  "How do you know who he is?"

"Mom knows a lot more than you think," I murmured.  "Now swallow this and we'll be out."

Danny stared at my hand.  "A pill?"

I was losing my cool.  "Yes, dear.  Take it.  Right now."

He hesitated.  "But pills stick in my neck."

My eyes hardened, and my voice became steely. We didn't have time for this.

"John Daniel, do as I say."

It worked like a charm.  Eyes wide, he plucked the pill from my palm and forced it down dry. 

"Good boy," I began.  I lifted my hand to my ear to give the sign, when I heard the door behind us rattle. 

My heart leapt so high with fright that it seemed to hit my skull.  "Danny, hide!" I hissed.

"What?"

"HI-" I cut myself off and sank back into the coats, completely obscured, thankful that I was completely dressed in black.  But Danny didn't hide, instead he let out a little squeal and curled up in a ball on the floor, his hands over his tucked-in head, as though he was practicing for a tornado drill at school.  I would have reached over and dragged him closer, but the door opened too fast.

Light spilled into the cloakroom, with a man's shadow falling over Danny's funny, turtle-like stance.  We had been discovered. 

Paul, don't be cruel, he's just a little boy.

The comm beeped in my ear.  The guys were trying to communicate, but I didn't move.  I gulped silently, knowing if I took too deep a breath, I threatened to blow our covers.  We'd been caught, but all wasn't lost.  Paul knew about Danny, he didn't know about me.  If things got out of hand, I could just leap out of hiding and we could make a break for the door.  K, C, and my dear Stuart had our backs.

Then our spot went from tight, to suffocating.  The shadow spoke- but, to my horror, not with Paul's voice.

It said- or rather, it purred, "Well."

Just one word.  That's all.  It was a bit lower than I remembered, a little huskier, a trifle edgier.  But I knew that voice like I knew my own.  Why wouldn't I?  I heard it almost every night in my dreams. 

This can't be happening.

The shadow paused, then said briskly, "You can get up, you know.  You don't need to stay down there, I'm not going to whip you."

Danny didn't move, instead seemed to curl up a little tighter.

"Uh... kid," the voice tried again, this time a little more gently.  I saw the shadow bend down, and a large bare hand tapped the top of Danny's head.  "Hey, please at least look at me.  You're not in trouble, I just want to, uh..."

I watched as Danny stirred a bit, started to uncoil.  As he did, another shadow appeared in the light, this time with the voice I had first anticipated. "Shall I have him removed for you?"

Danny froze, but the hand patted his shoulder reassuringly.  To his companion, the first shadow said, "It's all right, Paul.  I'll take care of this."

"Are you sure?" Paul asked.

"Quite."  Now I could hear a smile in the voice.  "I think I can handle a little boy."

Paul hesitated, then withdrew.  The first shadow turned back to Danny, who by this point was kneeling but still protectively holding his head, which set him to scoff, "Oh, would you take it easy?  My God.  I'm really not going to eat you, okay?"

So, very slowly, Danny lifted his face and pulled back his hood.  I still couldn't see the man talking to him, and I knew I should have jumped in already and gotten us out of there, but I kept watching, invisible to him as he was to me.

"How did you get in here?" he asked evenly. 

But Danny just sat there, looking at him.  So the shadow cleared his throat, and tried another language.  "Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

Once again, no response.  He let out a little frustrated huff and asked, "Don't you talk, kid?"

At that, Danny swallowed, and replied at last, "Konnichiwa."

"Japanese," the shadow concluded. "Oh, dear, this will be fun."

"English, too," Danny added suddenly, sounding much less scared than before.  "I just like to say Konnichiwa."

"Ah!  Now we're getting somewhere," he sighed in relief.  "Tell me, what's your name?"

"Danny."

"Danny what?"

"Phantom."

The shadow did not sound convinced, but he did sound amused.  "Your name is Danny Phantom.  Right.  Very well."

"What's your name, mister?"

"I'm Freddie."

Danny was smiling now, I could hear it.  He loved to turn things people said back around on them.  "Freddie what?"

"Freddie Mercury."

"Oh!" Danny gasped.  "So you're the guy!"

I could almost hear Freddie blink in confusion.  "Uh... what guy?"

"The guy.  The guy who- nothing."

Freddie's shadow looked behind him, then turned back with a sigh. He was clearly itching to get back to the festivities. "Listen, as charming a young man as you are, I'd really like to help you find, er, Ms. Phantom or whoever you came with- who did bring you, Danny?"

Danny hesitated.  "Nobody."  And that was true; he sent himself.

But Freddie didn't see it quite that way.  "You don't mean to tell me you just walked in here all by yourself?"

I was afraid of where this would end up- namely, Freddie losing his patience with my unsuspecting son, ultimately peaking in a mess of a scene.  So, summoning up all my courage, I stepped out of the shadows. 

"No, he came vit me," I stated with my best Russian accent, lowering my voice and eyelids, folding my arms across my chest and looking straight at the Harlequin, who gazed back up in surprise.  "My apologies, he vas not supposed to come."

Freddie looked me up and down.  "Are you his mum?"

"I am," I replied.  "And ve must be going, I hev made great mistake."

"You must be with the ballet," Freddie mused.  "I can't say I remember you, though, Miss-?"

"Kitka. Call me Kitka." 

Danny stifled a laugh.  He'd seen that campy movie enough to get the reference, but Freddie was utterly oblivious. He kept staring at me, as if he was trying to place my masked face, but he clearly did not have the first clue who I was. Thank God.

"Miss- Kitka, I hate to do this to you, but I'm afraid this really is not the place for children," he said in a businesslike tone. 

"I could not more agree," I sighed.  "Ve vish you many heppy returns, and vould wery much like to know vere is door."

"I'm glad you understand," he nodded, leading us out of the cloakroom.  When his back was turned, I touched my headpiece and whispered, "Get ready to pick us up, K.  We just need to find a quiet place."

"Roger," K said.

"Uh, the front door's actually right there," Freddie said, pointing.  "So-"

"If you please, em, is there someone who can show us vere is, uh- beck door?" I asked. 

"What, are we trying to slip away from a nuisance?" Freddie smirked a little.

"Could say thet," I replied. 

Freddie smiled a little wider, thinking he understood the situation.  "Okay, come on, I'll show you."

"We could find it other way, please don't trouble yourse-"

"Not at all!" he crooned.  "It's my pleasure.  Follow me."

I bit my lip as I followed close behind Freddie, trying not to stare too long at him.  It had been so long since I'd seen him face to face.  Had I not been so familiar with him from the very start, I likely wouldn't have recognized him myself, compared to the fellow I knew in 1977.  The man, it seemed had utterly transformed.  His dark hair was cropped to a much more masculine cut, while a dark mustache hid his teeth and gave a certain hardness to his expression.  And he did seem much harder, more impenetrable than before.  His very walk had changed- I couldn't exactly say how, but it had.  I could tell.  He was so different from how I had known him.  It frightened me a little.

Thank God, he doesn't know me.  I can't even imagine what he'd do if he did.

We crept through the club, past all sorts of sights and sounds, to the point where I had to cover Danny's eyes once.  Even Freddie looked back and whispered, "Sorry." 

At last we reached the back door.  "Well, there it is, darlings," he sighed.  "I hope you had at least a little fun while here."

"Da," I nodded.  "Zank you for understanding."

But when I moved to walk out the open door, Freddie stopped me.  "Just a moment, my dear Miss Kitka," he quipped.  "You're forgetting something."

"I am?" I asked, heart sinking.

"You think you can just walk out of my party without bestowing at least one kiss on the host?" he smiled.  

"A kiss?"  I repeated.  Something inside me lifted, but I hadn't any desire to explore the feeling.

Danny cut in, "Do I have to kiss you too, Mr. Freddie?"

With a little laugh, he patted Danny's shoulder again.  "No, you don't- but I wouldn't mind one from your mum, if that's all right with you."  For a minute I thought I saw his eyes twinkle.

While Danny sighed with relief, Freddie touched my cheek.  "Come on, Miss Kitka," he winked.  "I won't bite."

I took a deep breath.  Kiss him, I thought to myself.  I have to f---ing kiss this man with Stuart listening in.  Why.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Stuart urged, "Jules, just kiss him and get out of there, we're almost at fifty percent.  We need to go."

My eyes drifted down to his lips- those full lips under that dark and very likely ticklish mustache.  Ten years had passed since I'd kissed them, and they were as soft-looking and sensuous as I remembered- but it still stood to reason that I did not have the first clue where his mouth had been all night.  

All he expected was a peck, though.  I needed to stop making this such a big deal.

Just get it over with, me.  It's going to be so quick.

So I kissed him, but not on the lips.

While he shut his eyes and puckered his lips, waiting for mine to meet them, I instead leaned up- and nuzzled my nose to his, ever so gently.  I thought it was a cute alternative, I thought there was no harm whatsoever in it. 

But his body stiffened. 

I opened my eyes to see his were wide and briefly confused- but only briefly.  In the next second, they looked incredulous, angry, and thoroughly shocked.  I gulped.

Now he recognized me.

And all it took was an Eskimo kiss.

In a very low voice, he stated, "No. F---ing. WA-"

Before he finished, and for reasons completely unknown to myself, I stopped his mouth with a hard, proper, and less-than-polite kiss directly on the lips while Danny winced and said, "Whoa-kaaaay!" 

Just as suddenly I did jerk back, whisper in my normal accent, "Happy Birthday, Mr. J," and push off of him. 

I grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him out the back door, running like hell, searching for a safe place to be zapped away- except such a place would have been impossible to find, no matter how hard we looked or how far we ran.

For we were being followed.