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1975, Ridge Farm “Feel my skin is rough but it can be cleansed. It can be cleansed. My arms are tough, but they can be bent. They can be bent. And I wanna fight but I can’t contend. I guess that’s love, I can’t pretend, I can’t pretend.” -Can’t Pretend, Tom Odell It was humiliating in all the worst ways imaginable and Freddie just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to open his eyes and find it was all a nightmare. He wanted to pass out and never wake up again. Paul’s belt cut into his wrists from where they’d been thrown above his head; he could feel a thin trickle of blood make its way down his arm. Paul had shoved Freddie’s own underwear in his mouth to muffle his screams. He could smell the whiskey on Paul’s breath and wondered just how long he’d been planning this. He knew Paul would try and say he was drunk and he hadn’t meant to, but Freddie knew better than that. He knew better than that so why hadn’t he fled the room as soon as Paul entered it? Why had he wandered off alone? Why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Freddie knew he was small but he’d never felt so tiny until now. He’d long since stopped screaming; tears streamed steadily down his cheeks, he let out the occasional muffled sob and squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to pretend it wasn’t happening, trying hard to block out Paul’s hissed insults, his insistence that this was Freddie’s fault, that he deserved this, stupid fucking whore… He couldn’t say how long it lasted. He didn’t want to know. When Paul finished he untied Freddie’s wrists and ungagged him. He put his belt back on, fixed his jeans- And left without a word. That surprised him. He’d expected another insult, a threat to keep quiet (though the sheer state he was in, the smells alone, would give it away). He half expected Paul to choke the life from him. He didn’t know how long he lay there either but eventually his breathing hitched and he was pulling his torn clothes back on, stumbling from the room, trying to breathe through the panic, trying to see clearly through his tears.
“Roggie!”
Of course it was Roger he ran to, who else would it be? Roger was half asleep when Freddie burst into his room and flung himself onto his best friend’s bed, sobbing too hard to talk. “Freddie? Jesus Christ, Fred!” A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, pressing his face into Roger’s chest. Roger didn’t ask what happened; he didn’t have to. He smelled like Paul and there were marks all over his neck and he hated them, he wanted them gone. His wrist was still bleeding, his head was still throbbing from when Paul slammed him onto the floor. Everything hurt, he could feel blood on his legs and he couldn’t breathe. “Shh, shh, I’m here,” Roger murmured. He pressed a kiss into Freddie’s hair, rocking them back and forth. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.” “What’s going on?” Brian was in the doorway; when the smells hit him his eyes widened and he joined them on the bed, a hand resting on Freddie’s back. His expression just broke when Freddie flinched. “What happened, Fred?” he asked gently. Roger’s grip on him tightened, pulling him practically into Roger’s lap and all Freddie could manage to say was, “I...I...d-d-didn’t want t-to.” “We know,” Roger reassured him. “We know you didn’t.” He sighed deeply and turned to Brian. “Get Deacy,” he said and Brian hurried downstairs. Roger stayed with Freddie, still holding onto him, still trying to shield him, though what was there to shield him from now? The worst had just happened. ‘You don’t have to protect me anymore,’ Freddie wanted to say. ‘It can’t get any worse.’ When Deacy and Brian came back, Freddie’s breathing wasn’t quite so rapid. He wouldn’t open his eyes though, not even when Roger gently passed him to Brian. Roger’s voice was much different when he growled, “I’ll be right back.” “What are you doing?” Deacy demanded to know. Roger didn’t answer him and Freddie still wouldn’t open his eyes, so he couldn’t even begin to guess what Roger looked like. He tucked Freddie’s hair back off his face and said, “Look after him,” before leaving. “Oh fuck, this isn’t good,” Brian said quietly. And sure enough…
“PRENTER!”
Roger’s furious roar was loud enough to wake the whole house. It didn’t take long to find Prenter: he was in the kitchen drinking himself blind and when Roger found him he saw red. He smelled like whiskey on top of his usual scent; he smelled like Freddie, he smelled like Freddie’s blood. There was a flash of fear on Prenter’s face at the sight of him; just a flash, because Roger gave him no time to react. He was across the room and slamming Prenter face first onto the counter before the bastard could even blink. There was a satisfying crack and Prenter’s nose started bleeding. Roger grabbed him by the hair, pulling him from the stool, grabbing a knife as he dragged Prenter across the room, pinning him to the wall, knife held to his neck. “You hurt him,” Roger hissed. “I fucking told you to stay away from him and you hurt him.” He wouldn’t say that word, could hardly let himself even think it, but his mind was full of Freddie; the way Freddie’s voice had cracked as he sobbed Roger’s name, the way he flinched away from Brimi of all people. The blood on Freddie’s arm, the absolute terror in his eyes, the way he couldn’t stop crying. “It was his own fault,” Prenter gasped, terrified eyes on the knife. Roger smiled grimly, pressing the knife closer. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” “Roger!” He turned to see his boys in the doorway, Brian holding Freddie up. Ratty, Crystal and Roy huddled behind them; all of them looked terrified. Freddie looked terrified. That was the one good reason; he didn’t want to traumatise his best friend further. He backed away from Prenter, but he didn’t drop the knife. “Call the police,” he snapped to Crystal, who stumbled over himself to flee the room. “And call Reid!” Roger shouted after him. He hurried back to Freddie, taking him from Brian. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), it was Deacy who took the knife from him, but he didn’t throw it away. He marched back over to Prenter, who had slid down the wall; the bastard stared up at Deacy in terror. Sweet little Deacy, who looked a far cry from sweet with a knife in his hands and rage in his eyes, teeth bared in a snarl that put Roger’s to shame. “One move,” he said coldly. “One twitch and I’ll kill you.” No one doubted him. Prenter didn’t move. “Get him out of here,” Brian whispered to Roger, who wasted no time in bundling Freddie from the kitchen and into the living room. He held Freddie as close as he could, careful not to jostle him too much because Freddie kept wincing, kept squirming and curling in on himself. His nails dug into Roger’s back; he was shaking all over and Roger curled around him, trying to shield him against the rest of the world. ‘You didn’t protect him, you didn’t protect him, you promised and you didn’t protect him, you weren’t with him, why weren’t you with him? Look what happened, look at him, you didn’t protect him.’ He should have been there. He should have stayed up with Freddie or insisted Freddie go to bed with the rest of them. He should never have let it happen. He should have kept Freddie safe. Dear God, Roger was never letting him go again. “No I’d rather pretend I’m something better than these broken parts. Pretend I’m something other than this mess that I am. ‘Cause then I don’t have to look at it and no one gets to look at it, no, no one can really see…” -Words Fail, Dear Evan Hansen When the doctors tried to take Freddie from him Roger pulled his best friend back against his chest, snarling at them all. “He’s mine,” he snapped. The only ones who knew for sure they weren’t together were the other members of Queen and Dominique and he wasn’t about to drop the facade now, not if dropping it meant leaving Freddie alone. “Oh!” the doctor’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realise.” She offered Freddie a gentle smile that he didn’t return. “Do you want your Alpha to come with you, Mr Mercury?” Freddie nodded, gripping Roger’s hand like a lifeline. They had to leave Deacy and Brian behind. To Roger’s surprise, Miami stayed with them. Then again, he was their lawyer, so maybe that wasn’t too shocking. He wanted to say he trusted Miami but everything had been turned on its head. The only people he’d totally trust with Freddie right now were Brian and Deacy. Each injury listed was like a stab in his heart; the lump on Freddie’s head, the cut on his wrist; the bruises on his wrists, hips and thighs. The dark hickeys and bite marks all along his neck and chest, even a few on his shoulders and thighs. The long, angry red scratch marks down his thighs and worst of all, the tearing, the blood on his legs. ‘You didn’t protect him,’ a voice inside reminded him again. Freddie wouldn’t look at him, he wouldn’t look at anyone, his eyes were trained firmly on the floor. All the panic, all the tears had vanished, only to be replaced with such horrible stillness, a glazed look in his eyes that frightened Roger to bits. “Fred?” He lay a hand on his arm and Freddie hummed in response. “...You can stay at mine tonight,” Roger offered and finally, Freddie looked at him. He didn’t smile, his eyes were still glazed, but some of the tension melted away. He nodded and pressed his face into Roger’s shoulder. “Can I have a bath now?” he asked. Somehow even that made Roger want to cry. “As soon as we get home,” he promised. “You have won you can go ahead, tell them. Tell them all I know now, shout it from the rooftops. Write it on the skyline. All we had is gone now. Tell them I was happy and my heart is broken; all my scars are open. Tell them what I’d hoped would be impossible. Impossible, impossible, impossible.” -Impossible, James Arthur (cover) They didn’t get to go home right away. They had to give statements to the police, there was a rape kit and Roger wanted to scream at them all to fuck off and let Freddie rest before forcing him to talk about it. Miami had come in with the police, and Roger was ridiculously glad to see he had stayed so long; glad Brian and Deacy hadn’t been left alone in reception. Glad someone could help with this shit, relieved someone who might actually know how to handle this, and keep it short, was still here. Roger sat with his arm around Freddie’s shoulders, staring the cops down as Freddie recounted what happened; how he’d just been working on a song when Prenter walked in and asked if he could listen for a bit. How he’d started to leave when Paul grabbed him and kissed him- and then, when Freddie pushed him away, how Prenter had… “Thank you, Mr Mercury,” the taller cop, a skinny guy with red hair. He looked sympathetic, his smile was surprisingly fatherly for a guy who looked their age. “I know it must be hard to talk about.” “Can we go now?” Roger demandeed, not bothering to keep the anger from his voice. The shorter cop, chubby and freckled, nodded as he tucked his notebook away. “We’ll be in touch tomorrow, lads,” he said. “Try to get some rest.” They left. The nurse, who had been hovering by the door, offered another gentle smile. “You can go boys,” she confirmed and Roger wasted no time in bundling Freddie into his jacket and escorting him out of the room, Miami at their heels. “I can come with you to the police station tomorrow,” Miami offered. Freddie peered up at him through his hair and nodded, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. It was weird getting to Roger’s house. Somehow, Freddie felt like everything should look different, like everything should look as wrecked as he felt. But no, everything looked normal. Wordlessly, he dropped his bag by the door and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door and drawing a bath. As the water filled the tub, Roger knocked on the door. “Fred?” He had to speak up to be heard over the roar of the water. “I’m leaving some pajamas out here for you, okay?” “Okay.” He hated how croaky his voice sounded, but now that he had some privacy, now that there was finally a locked door between him and the rest of the world, he could feel tears stinging his eyes, could feel his hands starting to shake. As he climbed into the too-hot water, he finally felt safe enough to bury his face in his knees and cry about it. He’d cried earlier. He’d practically been screaming. But he wasn’t panicking anymore. It felt like grieving; it felt like something had been stolen from him. Had he really been rushing around and laughing only yesterday? Had he really flopped onto Brian’s lap and told him to “perk up, darling,” when Roger had laughed at “you call me sweet like I’m some kind of cheese” ? Had he really been working on that song for Mary only hours ago? That didn’t feel like him. That felt like a dream world. Or maybe this was a dream, all just a horrible nightmare, and he’d wake up back at the Farm and finish the album. Maybe he’d wake up and finally show the boys Bohemian Rhapsody. But as he tried in vain to scrub the feeling of Prenter’s hands away, as he silently cried, as he sat there until the water grew cold, he knew he couldn’t kid himself. It was a nightmare, but it was reality. The clothes Roger had left by the door fitted oddly; it was a pair of Freddie’s own pajama pants, the cosiest pair he’d brought to the Farm with him, a pair of thick socks that he had borrowed from Deacy and one of Roger’s jumpers; Roger was broad where he was skinny, so the damn thing kept slipping off his left shoulder and the sleeves were ever so slightly too long, but it was warm and soft and surprisingly comforting. His skin hurt from where he’d scrubbed too hard and he knew he must look ridiculously red but Freddie was simply too tired to care. He flopped onto the sofa, pulling the tartan throw over himself. Roger came padding out of the bedroom only minutes later. “What’re you doing, Fred?” “Sleeping.” “Nuh-uh.” Roger was trying to pull him up and all Freddie wanted was to just sleep and ignore this for a few hours. “C’mon, mate, you’re not sleeping on the sofa, you’re coming with me.” Well, that was a surprise. He wasn’t sure why he expected Roger to leave him alone tonight, he just...he had.
“They’re not going to want you around after this, after they see what a whore you are.”
Oh, right. That was why. “Freddie?” Roger knelt down, peering at him worriedly. “I mean...It’s just an offer. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Poor Roggie. Freddie had never seen him look so worried before. The last time he’d looked anywhere close to this upset had been when Freddie told him everything; all about running away from home, how his family might have been killed in the Revolution...And yet, compared to now, that only looked like mild worry. This? This was something else entirely. There wasn’t even a spark of anger there, just sadness and concern. Something softer than usual, but something unbearably sad all the same. And Freddie didn’t want to be alone. The thought made panic rise in his chest again. “Thanks, Rog,” he said, ignoring how his voice cracked again and followed Roger to his room. It was surprisingly tense at first. It had never been tense between them before. He lay at one extreme edge of the bed, Roger at the other and damn it all, Paul had ruined everything, he’d never been afraid to hug one of his friends before, Roger had never been afraid to touch him before, but now… Oh fuck it, he couldn’t stand this. He rolled over and flung his arms around his best friend, face pressed against Roger’s chest, trying to ignore how his own breathing hitched, how he was shaking again. Instantly, Roger’s arms were around him, pulling him closer, holding on so tightly it was almost painful but it was better, so much infinitely better than being alone. He tried to imagine going home alone tonight and the idea made him want to vomit. If he’d been at home he wouldn’t even have the cats, because Mary was looking after them while he was gone. He’d have to tell Mary about this. They had to tell the record company. If the charges stuck there’d be a trial. He could stay anonymous, couldn’t he? And yet, if the papers reported that Paul had raped an Omega that worked for EMI he was suddenly certain that everyone would take one look at him and know and oh god oh god oh god, he had to tell Kashmira and Papa and and and andandand- “I want my mama,” Freddie mumbled against Roger’s chest. He didn’t care how childish it sounded; suddenly all he wanted was his mother. Was it his imagination or did Roger sob at that? No, he wasn’t imagining things. When Freddie peered up at him, Roger had tears in his eyes, biting his lip to try and muffle any noise, but when he exhaled his breath broke on another sob. “I’ll call her first thing in the morning,” he promised. “As soon as I get up, okay? We don’t have to be at the station until they call us, she can come over early.” Freddie squeezed his eyes shut, clutching Roger’s shirt so hard he was surprised it didn’t tear. “I hate this,” he said. “I hate him. ” Roger shifted their position, pulling Freddie up so his head rested on Roger’s shoulder instead, so Roger could rest his chin on top of Freddie’s head, one hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. “He won’t get away with this,” Roger swore. “No matter what. I won’t let him, I promise.” “You can’t promise that, Roger.” “Yes,” he snarled and there was something truly dangerous in Roger's eyes now. “I can.” Against his better judgement (and terrified of what Roger might do if he got his hands on Paul, terrified of how much trouble he might land himself in) Freddie believed him. He had no idea what the morning would bring and he didn’t feel anywhere near ready to face it, but what choice did he have? The sun would rise and he’d have to face it, no matter what. (He was stronger than he gave himself credit for, stronger than even Roger gave him credit for. It would take some time, but he’d show them. He’d show them all.)
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
London, England, 1975
“Sometimes I hear you calling from some lost and distant shore. I hear you crying softly for the way it was before. Where are you now? Are you lost? Will I find you again? Are you alone? Are you afraid? Are you searching for me? Why did you go? I had to stay. Now I’m reaching for you.” -Hymn For The Missing,
RED
Gathering evidence against Paul was taking longer than Freddie had thought it would. Paul had no defence and yet it seemed everyone was determined to make it seem like
Freddie’s
fault.
One officer, an elderly man with narrowed eyes, had even demanded to know if Freddie had been in heat when Paul attacked him. As if it mattered! The law didn’t protect Paul if he had been anymore, that law was done away with over a decade ago! That same officer had demanded to know why Roger hadn’t simply
ordered
Freddie to go to bed with the rest of them, as if he was an object and not a person.
And yet, Paul’s only defence was that he was drunk and he insisted it was Freddie’s fault. “You’ve seen him on stage!” seemed to be his new catchphrase. It seemed to be enough for most of the older officers.
The younger ones, thank God, found Paul’s defence to be bullshit. The red-headed guy that helped take their statements, Derek O’Hara, was still on the case and he was plainly furious with how things were being handled.
“They’re hoping you’ll drop it,” he confided. “If they drag it out they’re hoping you’ll cave in and let Prenter go.”
“But
why?
” Freddie demanded and Derek gave a rueful shrug.
“He’s an Alpha,” he said. “And that’s enough for half of them. They don’t get that times have changed.”
But in the end the charges stuck and Paul Prenter was formally charged with raping Freddie Mercury. There was going to be a trial and Freddie stood firmly by his right to remain anonymous in the press, Miami backing him up. There was going to be a trial and
hopefully,
please God, Prenter would be locked up.
It was good news, but Freddie’s mind was still a raging mess, going over everything that could go wrong. What if Paul got off? What if he
did
cave into the pressure and backed down? He was suddenly terrified that he didn’t know himself at all, that for once he wouldn’t stand up for himself.
But if he let Paul go, who was to say Paul wouldn’t come after him again? Who was to say Paul wouldn’t hurt someone else?
He had to do this. He had to stand up for himself- and for the countless Omegas like him who no one believed.
He was just feeling that little spark of confidence, that little spark of
I can do this,
when he received news that turned the world on its axis all over again.
The thing was, it had been over a month. It was just past the two month mark when the trial was publically announced and Freddie had missed a heat. That wasn’t too unusual for him: sometimes he just skipped a heat. The doctor back in Zanzibar had provided no answers for
why
when Jer had dragged him there when he was fifteen.
“These things take time to regulate,” the doctor had said, though Freddie had presented as an Omega at thirteen and surely should have been regular by fifteen. Twenty-nine years old and it was still something that happened.
Then he missed a second one and his heart skipped a beat.
‘No way,’
he told himself firmly. No. Just
no.
But he’d been throwing up for weeks now, something he’d previously chalked up to trauma. He felt bloated, tired, his favourite champagne suddenly made him want to vomit. His sense of smell was heightened: when he and Brian had walked past some roadworks the other day the smell of the tar made him gag (he’d never cared about that before, it had always been Deacy who wrinkled his nose at the smell of tar) and he’d ran ahead of Brian to get away from the smell and it continued to bother him even from the end of the street. Tom and Jerry kept headbutting his stomach and purring.
No. No, no, no, no.
He was being paranoid. The stress was getting to him. There was
no fucking way...
But there was.
He
was.
Freddie knelt on his bathroom floor, staring down in horror at the four positive pregnancy tests.
“Oh no.” His voice was a broken little whimper. “No, no, no,
please no.”
The positives didn’t magically morph to negatives: they stayed there, silently mocking.
He hadn’t thought things could get any worse and yet here he was, kneeling on the freezing cold tiles, feeling about ready to pass out.
Freddie was pregnant. He was pregnant with
Paul’s
baby.
His vision was swimming, his heart was pounding, his stomach was churning and Freddie leaned over to throw up in the toilet, sobbing and gasping and wishing once more to go to sleep and not wake up.
“If they say ‘who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars? It flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone’s time runs out, if a moment is all we are? We’re quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out?’ Well I do.” -One More Light,
Linkin Park
They were still expected to finish the album and it made Brian want to rip Ray Foster’s head off. He had looked them all right in the eye and told them to keep working.
Roger had went to shout and scream and threaten, but Freddie gently grabbed his wrist, cutting him off before he could even start. He met Foster’s gaze and agreed.
Sometimes Brian was convinced Freddie wasn’t human. He didn’t mean that in a bad way, usually he meant it in a very good way; he’d never met someone who wholeheartedly cared about the world so much before. Freddie cared about everyone he came into contact with. He sincerely just wanted people to be
happy.
Which was why Brian couldn’t understand how anyone could want to hurt Freddie. Fred was harmless; he
cried
when advertisements about animal abuse came on the telly. (Granted, Brian was about the same in that instance). But his point remained: Freddie was kind and brilliant. He was small, having to stand on the tip of his toes to hug Brian properly. So...
Why?
Part of him wanted to storm up to Prenter and demand answers, though he knew what that answer would be: he’d insist it was all Freddie’s fault and Brian couldn’t understand that either.
He was worried. Worried about Freddie and how he was handling things, working himself down to the bone; worried about Deacy and Roger too if he was honest. Roger was more fierce, more protective than ever, rarely letting Freddie out of his sight. It had taken two weeks for him to be convinced it was okay to let Freddie go back to his own flat (and even then Mary promptly joined him there, though whether that had been her idea or Roger’s, he wasn’t sure). Roger snarled at any Alpha that wasn’t Brian or Miami and even then he gave Miami the side-eye.
Deacy had taken to treating Freddie like he was made of glass, scurrying behind him whenever he went to help move their equipment, asking how he was every hour (or so it felt), sitting closer to him than usual and he’d even taken to pacing worriedly whenever Freddie left the room and was gone for longer than Deacy deemed necessary.
But Brian couldn’t judge. He had taken to automatically sizing up anyone who wasn’t a member of
Queen,
particularly any strange Alphas. He insisted on driving Freddie home whenever Roger couldn’t. When Freddie was late to the studio now it wasn’t a cause for him to fondly roll his eyes or good-naturedly bitch. Now it was a cause for concern, for outright
fear.
Like right now. Freddie was over an hour late and there was no answer when they rang his flat.
“Where the fuck
is
he?” Roger demanded of everyone and no one. Deacy was pacing up and down behind him, glancing at the door every so often as if that could summon their friend.
“I think I’ll go look for him,” Brian finally offered when another ten minutes passed and Freddie still didn’t appear.
Which, of course, was when Freddie walked in.
He looked awful. He’d clearly been crying, his eyes were still red. He was pale as death, standing in the doorway on unsteady legs. He was bundled in a too-large jumper and a pair of surprisingly ratty boots. It didn’t even look like he’d brushed his long hair.
“Fred?” Brian was instantly on his feet and Roger rushed across the room to guide Freddie to the nearest chair. Deacy grabbed the nearest water bottle and handed it to Freddie, who looked at it like he wasn’t sure what it was. He looked at
them
like he wasn’t sure who they were. His eyes were faded, glassy, a million miles away.
“Freddie?” Roger had his hands on Freddie’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “C’mon mate, say something,
look
at me. Fred, what’s going on? You’re scaring us.”
Freddie opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked around at them all, awareness coming back to his eyes. His breathing was picking up speed, becoming rapid and irregular. His eyes brimmed with tears, he started to shake and he dropped the water bottle to the floor, curling over himself, gasping and sobbing.
“Shit,” Deacy hissed. He tried to push Freddie into sitting up straight again while Brian grabbed Freddie’s hands before he could pull his own hair or dig his nails into his arms.
“Breath, Freddie,” Brian urged, rubbing his hands. “You’re okay. It’s just us, see? It’s alright.”
“N-no, it’s not,” Freddie sobbed, face pressed against his own knees despite Deacy’s struggles. It was Roger who managed to push him up a little, though he was still slumped over, eyes squeezed shut.
“Bad day?” Roger asked gently.
Freddie nodded, still gasping. And then came the words that made Brian’s blood run cold.
“I’m pregnant.”
Shit.
“Float on to the painted sky where dreams will be unified, as I’m swept inside...Multiply humanity, harmonize insanity. Shredding light of remedy, pulling tides of clarity. Shattered glass in flower beds, humanize inhuman ends. It’s all the same for the dreamers, it’s all the same for us.” -Where Butterflies Never Die,
Broken Iris
For a moment Roger’s heart stopped. He was sure he’d heard Freddie wrong.
“I’m pregnant.”
No. No, he couldn’t be. The world wasn’t that cruel. It couldn’t throw this at Freddie too on top of everything else.
But Deacy was gaping and it was Brian who hugged Freddie as Roger remained frozen in shock.
“I’m pregnant.”
No wonder he looked such a mess. No wonder he’d been so late. No wonder he was panicking now and why couldn’t Roger
move?
Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why couldn’t he unfreeze and throw his arms around Freddie or go hunt Prenter down and kill him, or just
say something?
“I’m pregnant.”
This wasn’t
fair,
this wasn’t fucking fair, Freddie had done nothing to deserve this, and damn it all there was no way to make this better.
“I’m pregnant.”
No, no, NO.
“I-I...I d-don’t know what t-to
do,
” Freddie managed to gasp and that snapped Roger out of his funk. Reality came rushing back.
He stood, cradling Freddie’s head against his chest, one hand resting on the back of Freddie’s head. His hair was too tangled to run his hands through.
“There’s...There’s options,” he said quietly, almost warily. “You don’t...You know you don’t have to keep it.”
He heard Deacy inhale sharply, saw Brian tense and Freddie’s trembling slowed to a stop.
“...I can’t do this,” Freddie mumbled. “I just
can’t.
”
“You don’t have to,” Deacy said. Deacy, who Roger knew was against abortion unless it was utterly life-threatening; but in a way, wasn’t this life-threatening? Who knew what this would do to Freddie’s head, to his already fragile mental health? He had enough nightmares already, he had far too many panic attacks as it was.
Freddie didn’t need this on top of it all.
Sighing, Freddie pulled back from Roger, finally sitting up straight. He pulled his hands away from Brian’s and wiped at his eyes, still clearly struggling for calm. His hands went to his stomach...And he squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as though in pain.
“I can’t do this,” he repeated
And that was that.
“When the hope of morning starts to fade in me, I don’t dare let darkness have it’s way with me. And the hope of morning makes me worth the fight. I will not be giving in tonight. Try as I might to keep it together, why is recovery taking forever? Fool the whole world just until I get better. I’m terrified I’ll be faking forever.” -Hope Of Morning,
Icon For Hire
So, three days later, Freddie booked an appointment.
It seemed so simple at first. He didn’t want to have Paul’s baby, he couldn’t handle that on top of everything else. How could he hope to testify, to look Paul in the eye and tell a whole court about what Paul did, all why carrying that
monster’s
child?
People would assume it was Roger’s, he knew. The general public would at least, since everyone was under the impression he and Roger were together, an impression Roger angrily reminded people of lately. But the court would know. The judge would know. The jury would know. Paul would know.
He wanted to move on, he so badly wanted this all to go away and how could he hope to do that if he was carrying Paul’s baby?
(He wouldn’t acknowledge that little glimmer of doubt in him, that little voice that said he
could
do it, that he could do anything, it wasn’t the child’s fault...He’d ignore it.)
But then, sitting in front of the doctor, he froze. His hands flew to his stomach and he warily eyed the door, biting his lip.
The doctor stopped explaining the procedure and leaned down, looking concerned.
“Are you sure you want to do this, son?” he asked.
Yes. No. Yes. No. Maybe?
He had to do this. He couldn’t do this. What was ‘this’ anymore anyway? The trial? The recovery? The abortion? The pregnancy?
Life?
‘I don’t know what to do,’
Freddie wanted to scream.
‘This isn’t fair, I don’t know what to do!’
Why couldn’t someone just make the decision
for
him? Why was this all down to him?
He was letting Paul win if he kept it. He was letting Paul win if he got rid of it. Yes? No? Yes.
No.
He’d always thought he’d be happy when he found out he was pregnant. He always thought it would be with someone he loved, someone who would be happy too, someone who would keep him and the baby safe. He always thought he’d be shouting
“I’m pregnant!”
from the rooftops. Babies had never scared him, not until now. Babies shouldn’t scare him.
His
baby shouldn’t scare him.
That pulled him up short.
His baby.
His, not Paul’s.
It was the first time he’d thought if it like that.
It wasn’t just Paul’s baby. It was his too. He’d been terrified, picturing a mini-Paul, part of him certain-sure that this was going to kill him from the inside out.
But it wasn’t just Paul’s.
His hands pressed more firmly down on his stomach and he met the doctor’s concerned eyes.
“No,” he said and stood, gathering his things, rushing back to the door. “Sorry for wasting your time,” he babbled. “I have to go.”
And he ran for it.
“I couldn’t do it,” he told his boys, wide eyed and frightened, worried they’d tell him he was being stupid, terrified they’d hate him, suddenly terrified they’d hate the baby.
“What happened?” Deacy asked gently and Freddie had no idea how to explain.
“I just...I...It’s mine too. It’s not just Paul’s and...It felt like...Like I was punishing it for something
he
did, I...It didn’t feel fair. Does that make any sense, darlings?”
Deacy nodded, smiling reassuring, holding Freddie’s hands. “It makes sense,” he said. “And it’s your choice, Freddie. If this is what you want to do we’re here for you.”
The group hug was gentler than usual, less frantic, less desperate compared to their more recent ones. Fingertips grazed his stomach and Freddie, startled, looked up to see Roger staring down at his stomach with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Roggie?” he asked, uncertainty washing over him again.
But when Roger looked at him, his eyes softened and he smiled.
“Just don’t pick an ugly name,” Roger grinned and relief washed over Freddie.
“So don’t name it after Rog,” Brian quipped.
And as Roger let out an undignified squawk and Deacy, Freddie and Brian laughed at him, the last of the tension seemed to break. They were beginning to feel like themselves again, like family.
United.
Unbreakable.
Then they had to tell Foster what was going on.
The four of them were crammed together on the squishy sofa, Roger’s arm tight around Freddie’s waist. Rather than let the Omega sit alone on the armchair as they had the first time they were in this room, Roger had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down, so that Freddie was practically in his lap. Reid and Miami hovered protectively on either side of the sofa. All six of them stared Foster down, but the man didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. His disgusted sneer spoke volumes when he looked at Freddie’s stomach.
“First you want to make that
Bohemian Sasody
rubbish the single-”
“Bohemian Rhapsody,”
Freddie said quietly, icily.
“And now this!? Get a grip, boys.” Foster’s eyes narrowed on Freddie. “You’re not keeping it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Freddie hissed. He could hear Brian and Roger growl.
“You can’t keep it, it’ll ruin your entire image,” Foster insisted. “It’s bad enough you let Taylor
and
Prenter shag you, but this is the giddy limit!”
“You fucking
take that back!
” Instantly, Roger was on his feet, slamming his hands down onto Foster’s desk and glaring the man down. “Prenter fucking
raped
him, you sadistic asshole!”
“So he says,” Foster spat and that was
it.
Roger drew his fist back, prepared to break Foster’s nose at the
least,
but Freddie grabbed his wrist. Freddie could see Roger snapping back to reality; he was still snarling, chest heaving, red in the face, but the fury left his eyes when he looked at Freddie.
Foster finally looked frightened.
Good.
“Well then,” Freddie said, glaring down at him. “It’s been lovely, Foster, but you can honestly go fuck yourself. We’re out.”
And just like that,
Queen
were out the door.
“That son of a bitch,” Roger fumed as they all hurried down the stairs. “For fuck’s sake, you should have let me bash his face in!”
“Not worth it, darling,” Freddie said briskly. He marched ahead of them, fists clenched, teeth grit, fury coursing through his veins. He felt hot all over. Angry didn’t cover it. Fury didn’t even really cover it. All he knew was that he wanted to fight
back.
He wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t anyone’s fucking victim, he was Freddie fucking Mercury.
He headed straight for the fountain, grabbed a rock and, ignoring Brian’s shocked shout, he threw it at Foster’s window as hard as he could.
The sound of shattered glass had never been so satisfying.
Foster’s frightened face appeared in the window, Reid right behind him, gaping. Miami finally appeared in the doorway of the studio, staring at the band with wide eyes.
“You can take that out of our royalties!” Freddie shouted, flipping Foster the bird with a smirk.
“Twat!” Deacy yelled.
“Wankers!” Foster yelled back, red in the face.
Laughing, Freddie and the boys linked arms, walking away.
“You made a mistake, Foster!” Brian shouted over his shoulder with a grin.
“Shove your gold discs!” Roger yelled as Miami hurried after them.
“You’ll never have any gold discs, you medium talent!” Foster swore, but by then the boys were at Roger’s car, arms still linked and laughing.
“Well, that was...interesting,” Miami said.
“No one calls me a liar,” Freddie snapped. “Least of all some pompous little worm like him.”
“It wasn’t just that though, was it?” Miami asked softly and Freddie’s free hand went back to his stomach, a sudden urge of protective instinct making him want to let Roger beat Foster up after all.
“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” he admitted.
“What do we do now?” Brian asked. “I mean...We walked.”
“We release
Bohemian Rhapsody
and prove Foster wrong,” Deacy said with a grin, hard and determined.
That seemed to be what a lot of this came down to, Freddie thought: proving people wrong. Proving his parents wrong, proving society wrong, proving Foster and the critics wrong. Why was it that Brian and Roger were the first Alphas he met that didn’t automatically think they could tell him what to do?
He had ran away at seventeen to prove he wasn’t a human doll and he’d been fighting that notion since he was thirteen years old.
He was Freddie Mercury. He was an Omega. He was the frontman of
Queen.
And no one, absolutely
no one
owned him.
The trial was next week and it sent shivers down his spine. He’d have to testify. He’d have to be in the same room as Paul.
As they drove back to Roger’s, Freddie looked around at his friends and blurted out, “You’ll come with me, won’t you? To the trial?”
“Of course,” Roger said with no hesitation.
“I thought that was obvious,” Deacy said.
“As if we’d let you go alone,” Brian added.
“Thanks, boys,” Freddie said, more grateful than he could put into words. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, hands on his stomach.
He put the trial out of his head and brooded on Foster. That man needed a slap, he needed something to put
him
in his place.
They still had time until
A Night At The Opera
was expected to be finished. And Freddie knew just what song to redo, to really give Foster something to bitch about.
Death On Two Legs
was about to get a whole lot meaner.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1975, London
“Tears stream down on your face when you lose something you cannot replace. Tears stream down on your face and I...Tears stream down on your face. I promise you, I will learn from my mistakes. Tears stream down on your face, and I...Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” -Fix You,
Coldplay
The first time Roger left a mark on Freddie’s neck they’d both been exhausted and tipsy. The second time, sober and in the light of day, Freddie kept getting the giggles which set Roger off laughing in turn. The third time they finally got it right: both sober, both wide awake and no distractions.
And each time Freddie appeared at the studio or a show, or an interview smelling like Roger, Prenter’s anger seemed to grow. He looked at Roger like he wanted to kill him and still looked at Freddie like he’d gladly take him there and then.
But it started to peter out. Slowly but surely, it seemed like Prenter was losing interest, just as Dominique came on the scene. And rather than listening to his gut, rather than sitting Dominique down and explaining everything, he and Freddie agreed to lessen the scenting and marking. They, and everyone else, fell into a false sense of security: they thought Prenter had lost interest.
Roger had never felt like such an idiot. He should have known, he should have
realised.
If Prenter constantly tried to touch Freddie and be near him when he thought they were dating, of
course
he’d just bide his time when he thought they were drifting apart.
Roger had made a promise to protect Freddie, despite Freddie protesting that he didn’t have to, he
wanted
to. The thought of his best friend, the sweetest person he knew, being all alone in the world was enough to make his blood turn to ice. The idea that no one had been looking out for Freddie since he arrived in England was more horrible than he had expected. The realisation that some people
(too many people)
would look at his best friend as an object, as a toy, as something
lesser
was like a kick in the teeth.
So he’d sworn to look after him. He’d just wanted to keep Freddie
safe
and now…
Well. Now there was a trial starting tomorrow. Now Freddie was pregnant. Now his best friend flinched when anyone moved towards him too quickly. Now he wore more layers than usual. Now his panic attacks were worryingly frequent. Now he walked about with dark circles under his eyes, his lips bitten ragged.
Mary was raging that she wouldn’t be there on the first day; her job wouldn’t give her the day off and threatened to dock her wages when she pushed it.
“I wanted to quit there and then,” she fumed, but common sense prevailed. She couldn’t support herself with no job. She may have been staying with Freddie, but she hadn’t actually left her flat yet. She was still splitting rent with Gina and Tracy. If she lost her job she’d be leaving them high and dry too.
“You look after him tomorrow,” Mary said. Her eyes were blazing, her nails dug into Roger’s shoulders. “I mean it, Rog, you boys better look after him.”
“Always,” Roger said and he meant it. She knew he meant it. For a moment, Roger thought she looked ready to cry.
But she didn’t. She nodded and popped into Freddie’s room to say goodnight before heading to her room.
Sighing, Roger went to Freddie’s room. All the lights were off, the curtains were drawn, but Freddie was clearly awake. Lying fully dressed on top of the covers, staring at the wall.
“Fred?” Roger sat next to him. Two months later and he was still wary about touching Freddie with no warning. His hand hovered uncertainly above Freddie’s shoulder, until Freddie himself reached up and grabbed it, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. With a breath of relief, Roger lay down, tugging Freddie back against his chest.
“What if they don’t believe me?” Freddie asked quietly.
“They will.”
“But if they
don’t?
”
Roger held him tighter, burying his face in Freddie’s neck. “If he gets off- and he
won’t-
but if...I won’t let him near you. I won’t let him hurt you.” Cautiously, he let his hand trail to Freddie’s stomach. “I won’t let him hurt the kid either. I’d kill him before letting him anywhere near you.”
For a moment they were both silent. Then, Freddie spoke; “You actually mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Roger…”
“Don’t even try changing my mind, Freddie. I mean it, I’d do it.”
“Rog, this isn’t a fucking
joke-
”
“I’m not
joking.
” He pulled back slightly, allowing Freddie to twist around to face him. “I’d rather die than let him touch you again. I don’t give a damn, I’d gladly rip his head from his shoulders. I promised to look after you and I
didn’t.
I’ll be damned if I fuck it all up a second time.”
Freddie was staring at him, but it was too dark to make out his expression. His voice was quiet when he spoke, a little hoarse; “It wasn’t your fault, darling.”
And Roger knew what he was thinking. “It wasn’t yours either,” he said.
“I should have fought harder,” Freddie said and his voice broke.
“Don’t,” Roger said gently. He hugged Freddie to him again, his heart breaking all over again, his mind a messy jumble of plans, frantically thinking on what to do if Prenter got off. “You fought. You fought as hard as you could, Fred. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s him, okay? It’s all on him.”
“But he said-”
“
No.
I don’t give a fuck what he said, he was
wrong.
All that shit he called you? It’s just that: shit. You’re no whore, Freddie; you didn’t lead him on, it’s
not your fault.
You...You’re not some fucking
sex toy,
you’re my best friend, you’re Freddie Mercury and you’re gonna take the world by storm, remember?” He pressed a kiss into Freddie’s hair, onto his forehead and the tip of his nose, which earned him a watery laugh. Slowly, his thumb grazed Freddie’s neck- and that was it. He didn’t dare go any further, didn’t dare to even ask if he could (another thing to hate Prenter for). He felt stuck.
Because here was the thing: that jury and judge tomorrow, Prenter and his own lawyer, they were all going to be under the impression that Freddie was his boyfriend. They’d expect a big, angry show of possessiveness; they’d expect an angry Alpha staking his claim. They’d expect Freddie to smell more like Roger than himself. But Roger was terrified of hurting Freddie, terrified of triggering flashbacks. He still remembered the bite marks and hickeys Prenter had left all over him; they’d looked
vicious.
He went to pull back, but Freddie kept him there. His hand shook, but Roger could just about make out the stubborn, determined set to his jaw.
“They’ll all expect it,” he said. His voice wavered, but his grip on Roger’s hand tightened.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Roger admitted.
“I’ll tell you to stop if I have to,” Freddie said. “Just...Can we stay like this? I don’t...I don’t want to be under…”
“Whatever you need,” Roger said. He was more nervous than he’d been the first time he’d suggested this. Slowly, cautiously, his lips went to Freddie’s neck. “Tell me to stop if you need to. I mean it.”
“Okay.”
They did have to stop. Freddie was soon shaking and pulling away, eyes squeezed shut. Yet he refused to let Roger sleep on the sofa even then. For all that he was obviously frightened, he fell asleep in Roger’s arms, still fully dressed, still on top of the covers.
Roger didn’t sleep; he stayed awake, holding Freddie to his chest, waking him when the nightmares started. His eyes stayed on the clock all night, watching the morning approach.
And then the alarm clock went off and it was time for the trial to begin.
“Feel my blood running. Swear the sky’s falling. How do I know if this shit’s fabricated? Time goes by and I can’t control my mind. Don’t know what else to try, but you tell me every time: ‘Just keep breathin’ and breathin’ and breathin’.’ And oh I gotta keep, keep on breathin’.” -Breathin’,
Ariana Grande
It wasn’t a very large courtroom thank God. The
Queen
boys kept their hoods pulled up, their hats down low and their sunglasses on as they snuck into the building, only taking everything off when they were safely past the reporters. If, by chance, a reporter caught them they’d simply say they were asked to give evidence, but they’d rather avoid any chance of a rumour starting.
Judge Gerald Thorne was presiding; somewhere in his late sixties he was very tall, very wrinkled, with a hooked nose and big hands. He looked serious and stern, but not too frightening. He looked to be a no-nonsense sort of man. The jury were already present and Freddie was surprised to realise most of them were Betas. He vaguely wondered if they’d done that on purpose.
When he spotted Paul the whole room started spinning. Paul looked at him and
smirked
and Freddie wanted nothing more than to run right back out the doors.
How he managed to take his seat he never knew; it felt like his legs had turned to jelly. He could barely walk in a straight line.
But Roger, Brian and Deacy were sitting right behind him, Miami was with them too. Mary had hugged him tightly that morning, promising to be there the next day come hell or high water. Reid had called to say he’d come over that evening to check on them all. The same went for Mama and Papa.
He wasn’t alone. He could do this. Paul couldn’t hurt him here.
All the same, when he was called to the stand he wanted to vomit. He vowed to tell the truth, shaking from head to toe.
“Now, Freddie,” his lawyer said, “In your own words, can you tell us what happened the night Paul Prenter assaulted you?” He was a small man by the name of Lewis Desmond, only an inch taller than Freddie; balding and fat with a calm, parental smile.
Freddie opened his mouth and no words came out. His eyes went to Paul who was still smirking at him and he just
froze.
“Take your time,” Lewis said gently, but Freddie just wanted to run. He wanted to run home and lock the door, to hide in his room and never come out. All these people
knew,
they knew what Paul did to him, they knew he was just some used, jumped-up little
whore,
only good for spreading his legs and-
No. No, those were Paul’s words, not his.
“You brought this on yourself, you stupid fucking
whore,
you don’t get to tease me for two years straight with no consequences.”
“Roger can’t be fucking you that often, you’re still so tight.”
“How far can these legs spread, hm?”
“Shut
up,
stop crying, this is what Omegas are born for.”
“Little slut, you
wanted
this, don’t lie.”
His eyes took frantic flight across the room, trying to avoid Paul’s smug gaze. His eyes caught on Brian’s, who looked seconds away from jumping from his seat and rushing over to him. Roger had gone white as snow, gripping the arms of his chair so hard they were likely to crack. Deacy looked near tears, though when he looked at Paul he looked murderous.
“They’re not going to want you around after this, after they see what a whore you are.”
But they
did
still want him.
And then his mother’s words came back to him;
“Oh my baby, my sweet one, look at me: look at me little love. I’m right here, see? You don’t need to look so afraid. I love you, we all still love you. Nothing will change that.”
He’d spent the morning after sobbing into her lap when Roger called her. If she raged or cried she didn’t do it front of him: she had been a model of calm, stroking his hair off his face, letting him cry it all out.
She still wanted him. Papa still wanted him. Kash did too. And Mary. Even Miami and Reid still wanted him around.
And his boys. His dear, wonderful, fierce best friends, his family: all three of them were looking at him with concern, with
love,
like they wished they could simply take all the pain away.
“It’s okay,”
Brian mouthed and that was enough to unstick his throat.
Freddie kept his eyes on them as he told the court what Paul did.
“I was just working on a song for my friend when he came in,” he began. “I thought I’d woken him up at first, but I could smell whiskey on him. He said he couldn’t sleep. Then he asked if he could listen for bit. I was heading to bed as soon as I finished the chorus, so I figured there was no harm in it…” Deacy nodded encouragement, Roger’s expression softened somewhat. All the same, his breathing hitched, his hands were shaking and it took everything he had to not touch his stomach, to not draw attention to it. He wasn’t showing yet, not even a little bit, but he’d be damned if he let Paul wonder for even a minute.
“I got up to go to bed when he grabbed me. He kissed me, but I pushed him off. I told him not to touch me...But when I tried to leave he grabbed me again, pushed me onto the floor...” His voice broke, his vision swam, he could practically
feel
Paul’s hands on him, ripping his clothes off, forcing his legs open. “I tried to scream but...But he hit my head into the floor a few times…I was...I was too dizzy, I...” It felt like he was being strangled, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. His nails dug into his palms, he was shaking all over now.
“Take your time,” Lewis said again.
Freddie shook his head, eyes squeezed shut.
Then came Lewis’s voice again: “Your Honour, please, he’s clearly terrified.”
“I’m fine,” Freddie insisted.
Don’t look at Paul, don’t look at Paul, don’t look at Paul.
“Just remember there’s no rush,” Lewis said.
He looked at the band again: Brian had tears in his eyes. Deacy was biting the back of his hand, looking utterly anguished. Roger looked torn between tears and murder.
What truly surprised him was how devastated Miami looked.
Don’t look at Paul.
He had to do this. He
had
to.
Freddie did his level best to pretend Paul wasn’t in the room as he told them all the rest. It felt like a war with his own mind, trying to push the memories back, yet how could he when he had to talk about it? As he told them it felt like it was happening all over again: the sheer terror, the humiliation, the pain. He almost expected blood to start trickling down his legs again, half expected bruises to litter his skin again. His heart was pounding, it was so difficult to breathe. He kept tripping over his words, but he told them.
He told them everything.
When he was done the room was entirely silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
Freddie couldn’t stop shaking, tears blurred his vision, but he
did
it, he told them.
“Thank you, Freddie,” Lewis said. His lawyer had gone pale, his smile strained around the edges. It was his first time hearing it all in detail too. “You can sit back down now.”
Freddie hurried back to his seat, his breath coming in deep, ragged gulps. He barely listened as Derek O’Hara was called to give evidence. He wouldn’t look up as the photos the doctors took were presented to the court, as his doctors from that night testified. He barely noticed when Crystal and Ratty were called up. He kept his eyes closed and blocked it out.
He’d done it, he’d said it, he’d told them. They had to believe him.
Please God, they had to believe him.
Paul barely had a leg to stand on.
Freddie testified, the doctors testified, the cops who arrived on the scene testified; Ratty, Crystal and Roy testified. They even called on Roger, Brian and Deacy towards the end.
Their stories all matched, whereas all Paul could do was insist Freddie had brought it on himself. His only defence was that Omegas were meant to shut up and spread their legs when they were told to. His only defence was to bring Freddie’s reputation into it.
Thorne may have been from a generation that cheerfully let Alphas away with rape but he was not necessarily a man of his time: he looked downright disgusted when Paul testified. One woman on the jury looked near tears; the man in front of her looked murderous. Surely that was a good sign? But everyone else looked so blank...
A week later and it was all wrapped up; the jury were asked to vote.
They were gone for three hours and with each passing hour Freddie’s anxiety rose. He couldn’t stop his hands from going to his stomach now, just starting to swell, hidden under all the layers he was wearing.
“It’ll be okay,” Lewis said quietly.
“You don’t know that,” Freddie whispered back, fear making him cold all over. He was hyper-aware of how close by Paul was. Even the fact that the
Queen
boys were right behind him wasn’t enough to make him feel safe. Even the fact that Mary was right there next to Deacy didn’t help. Every instinct was screaming at him to run, to get away from Paul, to protect himself- and to protect his baby, because who was to say Paul wouldn’t hurt them too? He’d shown just what level of cruelty he was capable of.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw the Farm again, felt Paul’s hands on him again, heard his own muffled screams as Paul forced his way in. Yet every time he opened his eyes he had to face a courtroom full of people, had to look to his left and see just how close Paul was. He couldn’t decide which was worse.
Then the jury came back. They still looked awfully blank-faced and they wouldn’t look in Paul or Freddie’s direction.
And then…
“We the jury find the defendant guilty of all charges.”
“What?”
Paul shouted, teeth bared in a snarl and all Freddie could do was slump in his seat, exhausted and relieved, unable to believe what he was hearing.
Guilty. They believed him. Paul was going to jail.
He twisted in his seat to look at his friends; Brian had his hands clapped over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders heaving with relieved sobs. Deacy let out a hysterical little laugh, all tension gone from him. Mary wiped at her eyes, smiling, colour flooding back to her cheeks. And Roger reached out for Freddie, who gladly grabbed his hand, both of them near tears, but beaming all the same.
“Told you so,” Roger said and Freddie let his tears fall, smiling all the while.
Paul Prenter was sentenced to fourteen years in prison. He was dragged away, yelling insults all the while, insisting he was innocent.
Barely anyone paid attention to him.
“You’re safe now,” Roger said.
Freddie let himself believe him.
It wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot: a sentence didn’t erase it all, it didn’t make Freddie feel like himself again- but for now it was enough. The relief washed away everything else and as soon as he could he flung himself at his friends, pulling them into a group hug.
“He’s gone,” he said, half sobbing, half laughing. “He’s really gone.”
They had to sneak out the backway to avoid the press. Deacy kept letting out the occasional giggle as they hurried away.
“Sorry, sorry,” he kept saying. “I just...Fuck, Fred, I’m so relieved.”
“Yours or mine?” Roger asked as they reached his and Brian’s cars. For a moment Freddie leaned against him, letting the events of the day wash over him. Paul was gone, gone,
gone.
He could
breathe
again.
“I want to go home,” he said. “I need a bath and take-away and some awfully cringe-worthy movies. I just...I need a break.”
“Whatever you want,” Mary said, squeezing his hand.
They climbed into the cars, Freddie torn between victory and the urge to just
sleep.
A terrible weight was gone from his shoulders.
He’d done it. He’d really done it.
His hand went done to his stomach again: Paul didn’t know. Paul would
never
know and it was one more thing to be relieved about.
‘You’re not his,’
Freddie thought.
‘You’ll never be his.’
It felt like he was addressing them both: himself and the baby. Maybe he was just a little bit.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
November, 1975
“I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. I love my sister more than anything in this life, I will choose her happiness over mine every time.” -The Reynolds Pamphlet,
Hamilton
The press
pounced
but it didn’t take a genius to expect that.
Freddie was showing, it was known by now that he and Roger had “broken up” and so the press were eager to cause drama. Some (and this set John’s blood boiling) even demanded to know if they had broken up because
Freddie
was the anonymous Omega that Prenter had raped. John hated that they guessed it. They had nothing to go on beyond that Freddie was the only well known Omega working for EMI, they had no evidence and couldn’t access court documents, but they just assumed- and they were
right.
John had hoped they’d never question
Queen
about Paul after the trial. Beforehand they had been asked how they felt about one of their employees committing such a crime (to which they all said it was disgusting and a travesty, etc, and quickly changed the subject), but now they got questions such as
“Brian, how do you feel about Paul Prenter sexually assaulting one of your friends?”
or,
“Roger, is this why you and Freddie broke up?”
and the worst:
“Freddie, is that baby Paul Prenter’s or Roger’s?”
Even John wasn’t spared:
“John, how do you feel about Roger dumping Freddie for that Alpha girl? Is this going to split the band up?”
He hated them, he well and truly
hated
them. He’d seen it coming a mile away, but it hadn’t been enough to prepare him for just how invasive the questions got.
He wanted to scream at them all to get lost, to get away from him and his friends and especially to not stress Freddie out. He was
pregnant
for Heaven’s sake, he didn’t need all this stress.
And there was no denying that Freddie was stressed. After the trial, after Prenter had been taken away, it was like a massive weight had been taken off Freddie’s shoulders. They had all gone back to his flat after the trial and within half an hour Freddie had fallen asleep on the sofa, his head dropping onto Bomi’s shoulder. Bomi, who was usually so blank-faced, looked ready to cry.
“I can move him to his room,” Brian offered, but Bomi shook his head.
“No, no,” he said softly. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Leave him be.”
So yes, the biggest source of stress and fear had been taken away, but Freddie was clearly still struggling. The bags under his eyes only seemed to grow and he’d had to change his anxiety medication again, to ensure it wouldn’t affect the baby. And for all his protestations that he was fine, John knew Freddie was still struggling with the fact that it was
Prenter’s
baby.
When the reporter shoved the mic at him as they made their way to the studio and asked, bluntly, “Is that baby Paul Prenter’s or Roger’s?” Freddie had flared, “Get out of my face!” and dodged around her.
John stared her down, fists clenched when she turned to him. Usually he’d have let it be, he’d have let Freddie handle it. But not this time. This time he was mad, this time he was sick and tired of watching his best friend be disrespected. “Get a life,” he snapped and hurried after Freddie. More reporters were waiting at the gate. Before they could do more than turn to look at them, John linked arms with Freddie and steered him through the crowd.
“Ignore them,” he whispered as the questions started, reporters shouting over each other, cameras flashing. Freddie’s hands stayed firmly on his stomach and soon enough they got through the gate and ran inside.
“Fucking
vultures!
” Freddie was clearly seething, red spots growing on his cheeks, dark eyes flashing.
“I’ve half a mind to go back out there and slap them,” John admitted. Freddie looked at him with surprise, but his smile was (thankfully) genuine: amused and fond.
“Don’t be silly, Deacs, dear,” he said, making his way down the hall. “They’re not worth it, not really.”
“Maybe not, but
you
are.”
Freddie looked at him with clear surprise again.
John shrugged, a little awkward but as stubborn as his friends could be. “Roger’s not the only one who loves you,” he reminded him. “He’s just the most vicious.” He smirked. “So I pity those sods when he gets here.”
And sure enough, they heard a faint shout from outside;
“Fuck OFF would you!?”
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Freddie murmured.
Roger stormed his way inside, fists clenched, snarling, red in the face. “I’ll fucking kill the lot of them!” he swore. “Deacy, find a good burial spot, because we’re gonna have a lot of bodies to dispose of!”
“Gladly.”
“I've seen the remedy break like glass; it almost cut your heart in two, but we've got the pieces, no it ain't trash, fixing us is overdue. Tell me tell me have we been losing time? Tell me, I see that wonder in your eyes. Tell me, are we just trying to touch high again? I won't ever let you go, I won't ever let you go. Don't stop, don't ever stop believing. Don't stop, don't ever stop believing.” -Won’t Ever Let You Go,
Zayde Wolf
Only Freddie could finish recording an album, testify at a trial and handle bucketloads of trauma at the same time. Because if Brian was honest, the progress was
there
if you really looked.
It wasn’t obvious, not at all, but Brian knew his boys, his
pack,
like the back of his hand. Freddie didn’t flinch so much when they touched him. He was hesitant, but he’d started to lean against them again when they were working. He was still too pale, the bags under his eyes were a major cause for concern, but Brian hadn’t seen him have a panic attack in two weeks and
that,
definitely, was progress.
“You okay, Fred?” he asked now. They were at Freddie’s flat, having decided to skip going to the pub; the album had been released and much as they’d have loved to get shit-faced Freddie had seemed a bit jumpy. Brian had a quiet word with Rog and Deacy when Freddie left the room and they decided it would be best to not force Freddie into a crowd if he was having a bad day. And if he was honest it seemed a little cruel to force Freddie to sit there while they drank and he couldn’t.
So they did what they used to do when they were broke and wanted to celebrate; they made ridiculous amounts of popcorn, rented the stupidest, silliest movies they could find and made a fort in the living room. Mary had a date that night and she had told them with a wink to not wait up. Roger had wolf-whistled after her, cackling when Freddie hit him.
The four of them were lying on the floor, surrounded by pillows and blankets. Freddie had to lie on his side; smirking, Deacy copied him.
“I’m fine, darling,” Freddie said with a tired smile. “Just a little sore.”
Sometimes, God help him, Brian found himself wishing Freddie hadn’t decided to keep the baby. He tried his best to think of it as
Freddie’s
and
only
Freddie’s but a frantic, paranoid part of him was terrified; what if the baby grew up to be like Prenter? What if it looked like Prenter? Would Freddie be able to handle that? And with the way the press were carrying on did they have any hope of keeping this shit show from the baby when it grew up? What if the kid heard the rumours when it got older?
That kid would have questions they could never answer and God help them all then.
Freddie’s hand was on his stomach as usual; surprisingly, so was Roger’s. But maybe that wasn’t too surprising, really. After all, it was
Roger.
The man would sooner chop off his own hand than hurt Freddie.
And yet, Brian knew he felt the same way he did; sometimes he caught Roger staring at Freddie’s stomach with an eerily blank expression on his face, or a twitch of anger in his jaw. Yet he was also the first one to wrap an arm around Freddie or rest his hand on the ever-growing baby bump. So really, Brian worried about how Roger was going to react when the baby arrived too. Would his instincts scream
pack
or
threat?
(Sometimes Brian wished it
was
Roger’s, that it had never been a ruse. It still would have caused drama, but it wouldn’t have caused any
trauma,
and Freddie wouldn’t look so exhausted all the time, Roger wouldn’t look at everyone like they were a threat.)
They were all just laughing at the ludicrously over-the-top chase scene on screen when Freddie and Roger suddenly stopped. Both of them were staring at Freddie’s stomach and Brian’s heart lurched, certain that something was wrong.
But then Freddie just
grinned,
not covering his teeth because he never did around them and Roger laughed.
“Holy shit!” Roger exclaimed, both hands on Freddie’s stomach now. “Did you feel that?”
“Of course I bloody did!”
“What’s going on?” Deacy sat up, concerned, before his expression suddenly brightened. “Wait- is it kicking?”
That got Brian up in an instant. Freddie nodded, and Deacy beamed. “Can I…?” He hesitantly reached out, hand hovering but not quite touching until Freddie grabbed Deacy’s hand and placed it on his stomach. “Oh, wow,” Deacy whispered. “Hi, baby Mercury.”
Brian looked at them; Deacy grinning, Roger looking as content as could be, the happiest Brian had seen him in months. And Freddie. Freddie, who was utterly beaming, everything about him softened. For a moment, he looked like his old self. Happy. Carefree.
Then Freddie looked at him and said, “Well, what are you doing over there, love? Get over here.”
Brian didn’t need telling twice.
He felt one soft kick, then another. A moment’s pause and then another. Stronger and stronger.
“Better get this kid a football, the way they’re going,” he said. For a moment, thank God, everything felt
normal.
“But there were moments, he had moments, with a little bit of light. In those moments he was happy. He was trying still to fight. And maybe the battle he fought wasn’t one he could win. But at least there were days when he let the light in. In those moments...A little bit of light.” -A Little Bit Of Light,
Dear Evan Hansen
Freddie had been petrified at the first doctor’s appointment. He was sure the doctor would take one look at him and say,
“You were going to abort, weren’t you?”
or point at him and say,
“Paul Prenter raped you, why are you still carrying this baby?”
He didn’t, of course. But Freddie had still been terrified; he’d done his best not to flinch away from Doctor Platt’s hands and was suddenly terrified Platt would say something was wrong with the baby. But no, the baby was healthy.
And yet the anxiety didn’t go away. He was exhausted and sore and dizzy far too often. Nightmares were still waking him up more often than not, which didn’t help at all: he needed to be in top condition to keep the baby healthy, but he just felt so
sick
all the time. He’d spent all of yesterday curled up in bed with a cold pack pressed to his forehead.
He wanted to put Prenter out of his mind for good and he was
trying,
he
was,
but he still found himself warily eyeing every stranger (particularly every Alpha), and wondering who would try and hurt him next.
Roger, Brian, Deacy, Mary, Miami, Mama, Papa, Kashmira, Reid: he could trust them and that was
it
he decided. He wasn’t going to give
anyone
the opportunity to hurt him again.
Sometimes Freddie went to the appointments alone, sometimes Mary came with him and sometimes Roger did. Sometimes they both did.
This time, it was Roger that insisted on coming with him.
“So, would you like to know the sex?” Platt asked.
Freddie nodded and Platt smiled; “Then congratulations, Freddie; you’ll be having a boy.”
Roger’s grip on him tightened and when Freddie looked at him his best friend was smiling at the monitor almost
grimly.
He couldn’t quite describe Roger’s expression. Happy and...well, something else. Not quite angry, not quite sad, but somewhere in between.
And Freddie wasn’t sure how to describe what
he
was feeling in any case. The baby kicked again, his
son
kicked again and he felt
excited,
but there was also that shiver of fear.
‘I can’t protect you when you’re out of there,’
he thought.
Anything could happen to his baby once he was born. Anything at all. The world had proven itself to be cruel, what if someone hurt his baby? What if
he
messed up and hurt his baby?
Almost as if he read his mind, Roger pulled him closer to Freddie’s head rested on his shoulder.
“He’ll be alright,” Roger said. “He’ll have a veritable
army
looking out for him.”
That was true.
Then another thought struck and Freddie looked up at Roger with a pout.
“Rog, darling, I have absolutely
no idea
what to name him.”
Then came the wave of name suggestions from
everyone.
His parents wanted him to pick a traditional Parsi name, but considering they named him
Farrokh
he wasn’t so sure he could trust their judgement there.
Brian, perfectly serious, suggested a multitude of star names which were very pretty but none of them felt
right.
Deacy’s suggestions were expected:
James, Thomas, Daniel.
They didn’t sound right combined with
Mercury
but they might serve as middle names if he got truly stuck.
Roger’s suggestions were more outlandish, but again, nothing felt right. Nothing grabbed his attention and held it. Even Mary couldn’t help.
In the end, flicking through a book of names in a temper, he found a name by accident.
Theodore: God’s gift, gift of God.
Still not quite right, but...but maybe if he shortened it…
Theo? Theo Mercury? Still missing something…
And then he thought of his parents’ suggestions and a bell rung in his head.
Theo Farrokh Mercury.
Farrokh, his birth name, a name he had always hated growing up, but it was undoubtedly
his,
something he could give his baby to prove to them
both
that he was Freddie’s.
Farrokh: happy, fortunate.
He hoped he would be.
“What do you think, darling?” he asked the baby, setting the book aside. One hand rubbed up and down his stomach. “Do you like Theo?”
The baby kicked twice, stronger than ever to the point that he winced. Maybe Brian was right and he had a little footballer on his hands.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freddie smiled and Theo kicked again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
February 9th, 1976, London, England
“I'll never forget those eyes, that beautiful smile, I still remember the way you said "good-bye.” No matter how hard I try I can't forget about...beautiful girl, on top of the world. Don't fall down because an angel should never touch ground.” -Beautiful Girl,
Broken Iris
It was only seven months along. It was too early.
Freddie was just heading to the front door when Mary heard him groan and then a
thump
as he hit the floor.
“Freddie?” She ran into the hallway and there was Freddie, collapsed on the ground and, terrifyingly, she could see bright red blood soaking through his clothes. “Oh no,” she gasped, grabbing the phone as she ran to him and fell to her knees, grabbing his hand as she dialled 999.
“He- he’s g-going to die,” Freddie gasped. He was shaking terribly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“No, he’s not,” Mary said with a certainty she didn’t feel. Into the phone she babbled, “I need an ambulance, my friend, he’s- please, he’s going into labour, he’s
bleeding!
” and she rambled off their address.
Please,
she wanted to cry.
Please,
please,
my best friend, my Freddie, his baby, my godson, they might die, we need HELP.
Freddie was sobbing in pain, his back arched as a contraction hit, bringing more blood with it. His hand gripped hers so tightly she thought her fingers might break.
“It’s okay,” she said
(liar, liar, liar).
“It’s okay,” Mary repeated, running a hand through Freddie’s hair, all but lying on the ground with him. Reaching back to the sofa, she groped blindly for the throw over the back of it. Grabbing it, she pressed it between Freddie’s legs, hoping to slow the blood flow, to do
something,
and the pink cloth was soaked red in seconds.
Freddie’s eyes kept falling shut, it took him longer and longer to respond when she called his name.
“Don’t...don’t let my baby die,” he mumbled as a frantic knocking began at the door.
Mary ran for the door, letting the paramedics in. She ran after them as they took Freddie to the ambulance, forgetting to lock the door, forgetting her shoes. All she could focus on was Freddie, holding his hand tightly in both of hers as the paramedics fitted an oxygen mask over Freddie’s face and yelled instructions she didn’t understand.
“Open your eyes, sweetie,” she whispered.
“Please.”
But he didn’t. He let out the occasional moan and his hand clenched and unclenched in hers, but his eyes remained shut. And eventually he fell silent.
They took Freddie away when they reached the hospital, they wouldn’t let her go with them. It took two nurses to hold her back. All the while she fought back, screaming Freddie’s name.
“They’ll have to operate,” one nurse panted as Mary’s elbow caught her in the stomach. “You
can’t
go with him!”
That was when Mary caught sight of the blood smeared across her hands.
Freddie’s
blood. And that was it: she broke down sobbing, bent over double.
“Call Roger,” she sobbed. “For God’s sake, someone call Roger.”
“I've come undone but you make sense of who I am. Like puzzle pieces in your eye. Then I'll see your face, I know I'm finally yours, I find everything I thought I lost before. You call my name, I come to you in pieces, so you can make me whole.” -Pieces,
RED
Roger couldn’t remember everything that happened. If he was honest a lot of it was a blur. He received a phone call from the hospital, telling him Freddie was in labour, that he was being operated on. He remembered dropping the phone and yelling for Dominique. He remembered Mary, barefoot, flinging herself into his arms and sobbing.
He supposed someone, probably Dominique, must have called the others because one by one, they arrived: Deacy and Veronica, with baby Robert on her hip. Brian and Chrissie. Jer, Bomi and Kashmira. Even Miami appeared, shirt buttoned wrong and tie askew.
After that it was a blur. He remembered pacing up and down a lot. He remembered Jer praying. But he couldn’t remember how long they stayed there. He couldn’t recall if anyone spoke or moved. He couldn’t tell if it was night or day when a doctor approached them with a smear of blood on his white coat.
“He’s stable,” the doctor told them, and Roger swayed on the spot, having the grab Brian to keep from falling. “It was touch and go there for a while,” he admitted. “But Mr Mercury is stronger than he looks. He’s still under and will be until tomorrow at the earliest- he lost a lot of blood I’m afraid. Even when he wakes up he’ll be ill for a while.”
“And Theo?” Mary asked.
“We have him in an incubator,” the doctor said, his tone softening somewhat. “But he’s a fighter too. Surprisingly stable, but being so early we’ll have to keep an eye on him too.” He turned to Roger. “Would you like to see your son or your Omega first, Mr Taylor?”
My what?
was Roger’s first thought, quickly followed by,
Oh, right. They think he’s mine.
He was concerned for Theo, of
course
he was, but he knew where he had to be. He turned to Jer and Bomi. “Can you check on Theo?” he asked. “I...I need to check on Fred.”
They had to leave everyone else behind. Dominique gave his hand a quick squeeze before he, Jer and Bomi followed the doctor. He led them to another doctor, a dark haired woman who led Jer and Bomi in the opposite direction.
Roger’s heart just about broke when he saw Freddie. His best friend looked so
tiny
lying in a hospital bed, too pale and too still, connected to monitors, tubes and wires everywhere.
“Hey, Fred,” he said, voice cracking. He took Freddie’s hand, falling into the plastic chair by the bed. “
Fuck,
you...You...Don’t
s-scare
me like that.” The tears came before he could stop them. “I’m meant to look after you, remember? Don’t y-you fucking
do
that to me.” As carefully as he could he lay on the bed, cradling Freddie against him. “Just...Just don’t leave us.”
Don’t leave me.
“Who dares to love forever, ooh when love must die? Touch my tears with your lips. Touch my war with your finger tips. And we can have forever. And we can love forever; forever is our today. Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever? Forever is our today. Who wants to live forever?” -Who Wants To Live Forever,
Queen
He wasn’t sure where he was but it was dark. Fog everywhere. Utterly silent. It smelled
awful,
a sickening scent of rotten things and blood.
And then, somewhere up ahead, a baby started crying and he
knew
whose cry that was.
“Theo?” Freddie called and the crying grew in strength. His baby sounded
terrified,
shrieking at the top of his lungs, it sounded like he was in
pain
and Freddie started to run, tripping over obstacles he couldn’t see.
“Theo!” he screamed. “THEO!?
And there he was, lying on the ground; pale and tiny, bawling his eyes out and waving his chubby little fists. Sobbing in relief Freddie ran to him, scooping the baby up in his arms.
“It’s okay,” he cooed, kneeling on the ground. “It’s okay, I’m right here, darling.” But Theo just kept crying.
There was an odd
hissing
noise coming from behind him: it reminded him of hissing steam more than any animal, and when he turned to look he saw that the way he’d come was completely black. Just a completely black void, but it was clear that the hissing was coming from behind him, growing louder and louder, just as Theo’s crying grew louder and louder. A pair of terrifyingly familiar blue eyes peered out at him from the dark.
Blue eyes, too dark and narrowed to be Roger’s.
He held Theo closer, curling over him, trying to shield him from view.
“Don’t, please, don’t,” Freddie sobbed as familiar phantom hands grabbed him. Too large, too cold, too rough. Trying to pull Theo from him, running up and down his waist, trying to force his legs open.
“DON’T!” he screamed as Paul walked into view.
“Freddie?”
“Don’t…”
“Freddie!”
“Don’t...don’t want...to…”
“FREDDIE!”
Slowly, his eyes opened. His head was pounding, his every nerve felt like it was on fire. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, for his surroundings to make sense.
He was in a hospital room. Roger was leaning over him, crying. He’d made Rog cry
again.
But why was he in hospital? Why was Roger crying?
His trembling hands went to his stomach, his
flat
stomach and sudden terror cut through the pain and drowsiness. He remembered an awful, stabbing pain rushing up his back, pounding into his stomach; he remembered his legs giving way and a sudden gush of blood running down his legs. His eyes opened wide and he couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t stop shaking.
“Theo,”
he gasped. “Oh God, he’s- he’s-”
“No, no, Fred, he’s fine!” Roger rushed to say. He grabbed Freddie’s hands, squeezing tightly. “He’s alright. He’s alive. You’re both okay. Freddie? Freddie, look at me.” Still shaking, struggling to see past the tears in his eyes, Freddie looked at him. Roger’s smile was shaky and exhausted, but it was genuine all the same. “He’s alright. They were more worried about you in the end, you numpty. He’s a fighter that kid.”
“He’s really okay?” Freddie asked.
“He’s fine. They’re gonna keep him in the incubator for another day or two just to be on the safe side, but he’s fast on his way to full health.”
“Wait...what? How...How long was I…?”
At that, Roger gulped. “Two days,” he said softly and his voice cracked.
Two days.
Freddie struggled to wrap his head around it. Two whole days. It didn’t seem real. It seemed longer than that somehow. And that was two whole days that Theo had to go without him.
“Can I see him?” Freddie asked.
“You can’t even sit up, Fred,” Roger said, running his thumb over Freddie’s knuckles.
“But-”
“Let’s just see what the doctors have to say, yeah?” Roger reached out and pressed a red button next to the bed. Within the minute a doctor hurried in.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” the doctor said and Freddie fixed him with his best glare. Admittedly, it couldn’t have been up to much; he was dizzy and struggling not to cry from the pain and he’d only been awake for a few minutes.
“I want my baby,” Freddie said.
“We’ll have to run a few tests first,” the doctor said, infuriatingly calm and Freddie huffed, resigning himself to the fact that he genuinely couldn’t move. Roger pushed his hair off his face, his hand cupping Freddie’s cheek.
“Your mum’s with him,” Roger told him. “You know she’ll look after him.”
That was true but
Freddie
wanted to look after him.
It didn’t matter how safe he felt in Roger’s arms: the sooner he could go see Theo, or the sooner Theo was brought to him the happier he’d be.
He still had to wait another day before they brought Theo to him.
Even with the bed pushed up he needed help to sit. He struggled to keep his face straight, to not make any noise, as Brian helped him sit up straight. All the same, a strangled whimper escaped.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked gently, running a soothing hand up and down Freddie’s arm.
“It
really
fucking hurts,” Freddie admitted, because it was just Brian and Deacy in the room, it was okay to tell them the truth.
“Roger’ll be back with the doctor and Theo any second now,” Deacy said. “You can always lie down again to hold Theo.” But Freddie shook his head. “I want to be up,” he insisted, stubborn as ever.
Then they heard a baby crying and- and Freddie just couldn’t describe how he felt when Roger walked in carrying a screaming baby, with grey-haired, perpetually calm Doctor Williams behind him.
“Think someone wants to say hello,” Roger grinned.
To Freddie’s astonishment Theo stopped crying when he was passed to Freddie. He sobbed a few more times, whimpered and then fell silent. His eyes fluttered open, so dark they were nearly black. A bit too pale to be totally healthy, with a few patches of silky black hair and surprisingly heavy for his size.
“Hello.” Freddie’s voice was barely a whisper. He felt on the verge of tears again. “You really scared me, darling.” Theo only snuffled, turning his face to Freddie’s chest.
“Now remember, we don’t you feeding him yourself until you’re off the morphine and until you’re stronger,” Williams reminded him, which was just another slap in the face.
Freddie only rolled his eyes, holding the baby tighter. It was...strange. Strange, but in the best way possible. He’d been so scared this whole time. Scared of carrying him, scared of having him and then scared that the baby would be hurt, but now? For now that was all gone. He looked down at the baby’s surprisingly calm face and he couldn’t remember why he’d been scared. It was strange that all that anxiety was gone, but he welcomed it. People said babies sensed emotions and he didn’t want Theo to get upset, or feel like Freddie was rejecting him.
Because Freddie
did
want him. He dreaded the thought of handing him back, of not being allowed keep him in the room yet.
“I love you, you know that?” Freddie whispered. Theo was falling asleep, making funny little breathy noises that could almost pass for snores.
“He’s gorgeous,” Brian grinned.
“Already better looking than I ever was,” Freddie laughed (and inevitably had to hold back a wince as he did so).
Williams was smiling, but still looked uncomfortably serious as he said, “Mr May, Mr Deacon, I need to have a word with Freddie and Roger alone.”
Sharing concerned glances, Deacy and Brian acquiesced. Deacy reached over to squeeze Freddie’s hand, Brian ran a careful finger down Theo’s cheek and they left.
Roger sat on the bed with him, a hand resting on Freddie’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Freddie asked.
Williams sat on the plastic chair. It was the most hideous shade of orange. “You need to understand just how dangerous this was,” he said. “Your heart stopped on the operating table, Freddie. It’s still too soon to tell, we’ll have to wait until you’re fully healed to be sure, but it’s likely that another birth could kill you, or...Or you may not be able to carry another child to full term. The risks are high, you understand?”
He should have been devastated (and part of him
was,
and when the news fully hit he’d rage and cry), but right then he just wanted to laugh.
Another
birth?
Another
baby? How could he ever have another baby when the mere thought of having sex was enough to send him into a panic attack?
He still avoided looking in the mirror when he got in and out of the bath.
‘Your warnings don’t apply to me,’
he wanted to say.
‘Because taking my clothes off? Opening my legs for someone? Letting them have me? That won’t happen again. I can’t do that again. I
won’t.
’
“I understand,” he said- and he
did.
He just wanted to laugh at how little everyone truly knew.
Roger’s grip on his shoulder was starting to hurt, his best friend eyed him warily, but Freddie looked back at Theo, thankfully sleeping soundly and sighed.
“I understand,” he repeated.
He understood but right then he didn’t care. He just wanted to be left alone with his son for a while; he wanted to fast forward through the recovery process and go home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
August, 1976
“Am I the only one wishing life away? Never caught up in the moment, busy begging the past to stay. Memories painted with much brighter ink; they tell me I loved, teach me how to think.” -When,
Dodie Clark
It was a surprise when David Minns asked to speak to him for a moment. He was friends with one of their sound guys, Benny, so he was a familiar sight around the studio, but Freddie had never exchanged more than a handful of words with him.
David was a Beta, about as tall as Deacy with thick brown hair and an earnest smile. It was Benny’s birthday and Freddie had figured it’d be rude to not show at all. He’d decided to leave as soon as he could and, two hours into the party, he begged off, claiming he had to get back to Theo (which was true).
And then, as he grabbed his coat, David asked to talk to him.
“I’m in a bit of a rush, darling,” Freddie said apologetically.
“I won’t keep you,” David said. He was starting to blush. “I was just...Look, I know this is awful timing, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?”
That
was a surprise. The majority of people (not just Alphas, but people in general) would never entertain the idea of asking out a single-parent Omega. It just wasn’t done, not typically anyway.
Freddie was only human, of course he couldn’t help but feel flattered. David was nice and cute and the two times he’d met Theo and Robert he’d fawned over them. A large part of him was still surprised when anyone found him attractive: combine rape recovery with birth recovery and anyone’s self-confidence would take a beating.
For half a heartbeat he considered saying yes, but then his thoughts quickly began to snowball.
Dating.
Dating as in going out with someone, dating as in leaving Theo alone. Dating as in expecting someone to accept he had a baby to begin with. Dating as in holding hands and kissing and...and…
He couldn’t. Every fibre of his being screamed out against it.
“I can’t,” he said and watched David’s smile falter. He felt like an ass. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I just...You’re right, it’s not a good time.”
He hurried home, but the thought wouldn’t quite leave. Dating. Would he ever feel comfortable enough to do that again? He didn’t see
how.
He tried to imagine feeling comfortable enough with someone, trusting them enough to sleep with them and he just- he
couldn’t.
The thought alone still made him shudder.
It was only eight o’clock when he got home. Theo was still awake and cooed at the sight of him, wriggling in Mary’s arms.
“Hello, love!” Freddie took him gladly; Theo’s chubby hands slapped against his chest, smiling a gummy smile.
“Aaa-aahh!” Theo cried.
“He’s been feeling hyper this evening,” Mary said with a fond smile. “Been laughing and shouting at everything.”
Theo was growing fast; the doctors had been more than pleased with his progress. He was a healthy weight, though if you asked Freddie his son was still too susceptible to colds: they always went straight to his chest. Other than that though he was
loud,
often waving his fists and crying out. Shouting, cooing, screaming in happiness or anger, Theo seemed to be at his happiest so long as there was noise.
“At least
one
of us is having fun,” Freddie said to Mary, though he was smiling down at Theo, still squirming and slapping. “Forget football, the way he slaps things makes me wonder if he needs a drum set!”
He had to sit; Theo was getting
heavy.
And still, even as he cuddled Theo, a part of his brain wouldn’t shut up. The one year anniversary had passed (a day spent at home, doors locked, Theo firmly in his arms, flinching at every sudden noise and movement), so...so if it had been a year, shouldn’t he at least start to
consider
dating again?
“You can’t rush recovery,”
his doctor said again and again and he
knew
that, but...Still. Shouldn’t he feel normal soon?
A lot of the time he felt better. His anxiety medication had changed again, the weakest dosage yet. If all went well he might not need it anymore soon. When he walked Theo to his parents’ house two weeks ago he wore a tank top and skinny jeans for the first time since
it
happened. He walked alone, just him and Theo without constantly looking over his shoulder.
So he was doing
better-
but when he thought of taking his clothes off for
anyone
it just made him want to throw more layers on.
“You can’t rush recovery.”
And maybe he couldn’t but that didn’t stop him from feeling impatient with himself.
“Inside my heart is breaking; my make-up may be flaking, but my smile still stays on. My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies. Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die; I can fly my friends. The show must go on, yeah. The show must go on. I'll face it with a grin, I'm never giving in, on with the show.” -The Show Must Go On,
Queen
Brian wasn’t surprised when Freddie walked up to him and slapped a sheet of paper on the table he was sitting at. He’d been writing for weeks, for once refusing to let the others see what he was working on. He got so lost in it that Deacy had to grab him by the shoulder and shake him to get his attention the day before. Even then he wouldn’t show them what he was writing, holding the sheets of paper to his chest to hide the song-in-progress.
He’d noticed a shift in Freddie’s attitude of late; he seemed determined. Determined over what Brian couldn’t say, but it was there. Determination was the only word that suited him. Grimly determined at that, a little angry maybe.
“I’ll need a lot of guitar for this one, love,” Freddie said. His eyes shone, he was smiling, clearly proud of himself. And as Brian read over the lyrics he realised why.
This is bloody brilliant.
“Holy shit, Fred,” he said, exhaling heavily. He couldn’t stop grinning if he’d been paid to. “It’s brilliant!” Brian peered up at him; he stood as tall as he could, fists clenched, smirking more so than smiling now. He looked...Well, he rather looked like he did before Ridge Farm.
“Good enough for the next album?” he asked and Brian’s grin widened.
“If Deacs and Rog don’t agree that this should be the single I’ll be slapping their heads together!” he proclaimed.
And later that day, he watched in awe as Freddie killed it in one take.
“I’ll face it with a grin,”
he sang.
“I’m never giving in! On with the show!”
And at the end, he tilted his head and positively
belted
the last line;
“On with the SHO-OOWWW!”
He peered at them through the glass, bouncing on the tips of his toes.
“How was that, darlings?”
Ratty clapped. Deacy looked utterly staggered, eyes shining. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
Into the mic, Roger said, “Fucking perfect, mate!” Fond and proud, he looked ready to cry from sheer pride alone.
It was the most energetic Brian had seen Freddie in a year. He wondered what had brought it on. (He wondered how long it would last.) And he wondered just what else Freddie had hidden up his sleeve.
It wouldn’t be Freddie if he didn’t surprise them.
Freddie was surprised at
himself,
truth be told.
He collected Theo from his mama, humming the whole way home. He felt- well, he felt
happy.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this energetic, this light.
“What’d you get up to today, hm?” he asked Theo as he lifted him from the pram. “Did you make a racket again?”
True to form Theo yelled, smiling and dribbling. His eyes had lightened, more hazel now. Still much paler than Freddie, his black hair was growing surprisingly fast. He was such a
wriggly
little guy, forever kicking and slapping. He always seemed to sleep on his stomach, bum in the air. (Freddie had tried and failed to hold in his laughter when he first saw Theo sleeping like that and he’d run to grab the camera.) The boy was born opinionated: he made it clear what he liked and didn’t like as well as
who
he liked and didn’t like. It took until he was three months old for him to warm up to anyone who wasn’t Freddie: he fussed as soon as Freddie left his sight, sobbing and screaming.
Slowly but surely however he began to warm up to the others: first Jer, then Mary and Roger, shortly followed by Deacy, Kashmira and Brian, then Veronica and Dominique and Chrissie. He still looked unimpressed when Bomi held him though to be completely fair Bomi always looked wary when he held the baby; always a little stiff and awkward as though expecting Theo to puke on his suit (that only happened
once,
thank you).
And if Freddie was still his clear favourite, and if Freddie was smug about that...Well, he was only human and Theo was more than likely the only child he’d ever have- who could really blame him?
New York, 1978
“I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go, where the wind don't change and nothing in the ground can ever grow. No hope, just lies and you're taught to cry into your pillow, but I survived. I'm still breathing, I'm still breathing. I'm still breathing, I'm still breathing. I'm alive. I'm alive.” -Alive,
Sia
Roger was glad he didn’t have kids yet: he saw how depressed his friends got when they had to leave their kids behind and he didn’t look forward to that
ever
being him.
He knew full well Freddie had locked himself in the toilet on the plane to have a cry. One look at Freddie’s face screamed that he wouldn’t welcome any commentary though, so Roger only handed him some tissues and suggested he try and nap.
They were going on tour you see- on tour in
America.
They’d all four been ecstatic, they were still ecstatic, it felt like a dream. They were seriously going on tour in America of all places. Their album reached the charts in America,
The Show Must Go On
made number two in America, number one in England.
They’d worked their arses off and it was clearly paying off.
The first day there was quiet, thank God. They had a chance to rest, to settle into their hotel rooms before work started.
The second day there, as they were shown around the first arena they were to play in, was also the day they met most of the people who would be working with them, the men and women who would be following them all across the country.
There were caterers already on hand and that was how Joe Fanelli came into their lives.
He was a Beta who smelled of salt water and something sort of
citrusy,
about as tall as Roger with short cropped hair and glasses; a black dragon tattoo wound around his bicep, he happily chatted with anyone and everyone.
He also took one look at Freddie and went bright pink.
Instantly, Roger was on the defensive. If it wasn’t for the fact that their “break up” had been plastered across the newspapers all over the world he’d have stormed over there and dragged Freddie away, a hand tight on his hip. But no. He couldn’t do that anymore.
That didn’t mean he had to
like
how Fanelli was looking at Freddie.
“Back off,”
he wanted to snarl.
“Keep fucking walking mate, you can’t have him.”
Finally, Freddie seemed to notice the staring. He was chatting with Reid, but he looked over his shoulder, faintly pouting. When he spotted Fanelli he paused. To Roger’s utter shock Freddie’s cheeks
glowed.
His hand went to his cheek, seemingly surprised by his own reaction. Quickly, he turned back to Reid, who looked terribly amused by the whole thing.
Freddie kept glancing over his shoulder at Fanelli.
“Do you
see
that?” Roger hissed to Deacy. He stabbed his sausage so hard the fork went right through the paper plate and hit the table.
Deacy was looking at Fanelli, frowning. “I see it,” he said. “Should we do something?”
“Oh, I’ll do
something
alright,” Roger snarled. He got to his feet, prepared to storm over there and give Fanelli hell, when Brian grabbed his arm.
“What-
Brimi!
”
“Stop it, Rog. So the guy fancies Fred. A
lot
of guys fancy Fred. He hasn’t
done
anything, you can’t just storm over there and yell at him.”
“Watch me!”
“Rog.”
Brian’s eyes narrowed. He had that Disapproving Teacher look on his face. “He hasn’t done anything.”
“Yet.”
“I’m with Roger,” Deacy huffed, folding his arms. “I don’t like this.”
“Boys, do you honestly expect Freddie to be a monk forever? Do you think people will just magically stop finding him attractive?” Brian asked impatiently.
“He’s still fuckin’
traumatised,
Bri!” Roger protested. “I don’t want that Fanelli guy trying anything!”
But Brian’s grip on his arm only tightened and he tugged Roger back into his chair, ignoring his hissed threats and meeting Roger’s snarl with one of his own. Brian may not have always met the Alpha stereotype, but bugger it all, when he did it was
scary.
“I don’t like this,” Roger repeated stubbornly.
“You don’t have to,” Brian snapped, patience totally gone. “Just trust that Freddie will tell the guy to leave him alone if he doesn’t like him.”
“He told Prenter to leave him alone,”
Roger wanted to point out.
“He told him more than once. He
screamed
for Prenter to stop and he didn’t.
Telling
the bloke to fuck off isn’t guaranteed to do anything.”
He didn’t say it, he wasn’t that cruel, but the thought was firmly there, growing louder and louder.
Roger hadn’t been there to protect Freddie last time. He would be this time, no matter what.
His eyes narrowed on Fanelli. If that guy laid a hand on Freddie he was
dead.
When Freddie glanced over his shoulder for the third time only to find Joe Fanelli was still looking at him he didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to run straight to Roger and hide behind him. Part of him wanted to ignore it. And another, albeit nervous part of him…He went to join the boys at their table and if he added an extra sway to his hips as he walked, that was no one’s business but his.
(Damn it all but Joe was
gorgeous
and he was nervous,
so
nervous, his heart was pounding, but when Joe grinned at him he found himself smiling back.)
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
New York, 1978 “You make me glow, but I cover up, won’t let it show. So I’m puttin’ my defenses up ‘cause I don’t wanna fall in love. If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack. I think I’d have a heart attack. I think I’d have a heart attack.” -Heart Attack, Demi Lovato Their first show was about to start and as much as Freddie loved the harlequin outfit he was also starting to regret it. It was tight, it was low-cut and although it was an amazing costume… “I should have tried to lose more weight for this,” he grouched, turning every which way, eyeing himself critically in the mirror. “You’re tiny! ” Deacy protested, but Freddie continued to frown. All he could see was the changes having a baby had left. The outfit wasn’t low-cut enough to show his surgery scar thank goodness, but it was a close thing. Was his stomach still too soft? Were his thighs too fat? Was his ass too fat? (The irony- Fat Bottomed Girls was the second song they were to perform that night.) He pulled the leather jacket tighter about himself, eyes narrowed. This was their first tour in ages and his stomach was clenched tight with nerves. “Fred, you’re the smallest out of all of us,” Brian added and Freddie glanced at the ballet flats he was wearing and compared them to Deacy’s platforms. He knew Brian didn’t mean smallest as in shortest but still- he doubted it would ever stop rankling that even their youngest band member was taller than him by a whole four inches. All things considered the flats were definitely the more sensible option, he knew, but a bit of added height would have done wonders for his confidence right then. “If you really need someone to boost your ego I can always go and find Joe,” Crystal said with a wink. Roger hissed and kicked him, and although he winced Crystal was clearly enjoying Freddie’s red face. “Don’t be daft,” Freddie said briskly. He turned away from the mirror, arms folded, frowning at the assembled group. “He clearly fancies you.” Damn, but Crystal was persistent. “And?” He could feel his blush deepening and he hated it. “ And?” Crystal mimicked. His grin widened, he even waggled his eyebrows. “Do you fancy him?” “Shut the ever living hell up, Chris,” Roger snapped. Freddie was saved from having to answer by a shout of, “Show time boys!” As they made their way to the stage Deacy, eyebrows drawn in concern, leaned in and whispered, “ Do you fancy him?” He hesitated. Did he fancy Joe? Well...Maybe. A bit. Joe was gorgeous no denying, but they’d barely even spoken. For all he knew Joe was a total ass! But he did seem sweet. He didn’t tower above Freddie which was a bonus. The times Freddie had caught him staring Joe had seemed embarrassed at being caught, sometimes shooting him a quick smile before looking away again. No leering or entitlement to be seen. But how could he be sure? But it must be said that Joe made him nervous in an oddly good way. “...I don’t know,” Freddie admitted. And then it was time to get in place, time to bewitch and dazzle a crowd and he thankfully had to stop thinking about it. “I'm taking back the crown, I'm all dressed up and naked, I see what's mine and take it (Finders keepers, losers weepers). Oh yeah, the crown! So close I can taste it. I see what's mine and take it (Finders keepers, losers weepers).” -Emperor’s New Clothes, Panic!At The Disco They had all been nervous but they soon realised there was no need to be: the second the stage lit up and the crowd saw them the arena erupted in screams and cheers. John lost himself in it, dancing as he played, unable to keep the grin off his face. He glanced at Brian who appeared elegant and otherworldly as usual, expression intent, eyes closing at intervals. He turned to Roger who was drumming so fast his arms were a blur, hair flying, a dangerous smirk on his lips. His open vest was starting to fall off and of course there was many a woman screaming “TAKE IT OFF!” When he eventually did shrug it off John thought the shrieks would deafen him. And then there was Freddie, jumping about the place, hair plastered to his forehead. As they launched into Bohemian Rhapsody he took his leather jacket off and threw it across the stage, twirling as he did. For all his previous nerves and scepticism he appeared to be in his element now- and he was, John knew. They all were. This, this was what they were born for, what they were meant to do. Shock. Amaze. Break boundaries. Enchant. Perform. And fair play to Freddie, John thought, but he really wasn’t sure how their resident Omega still managed to twist and bend like that. He’d had a baby for Christ’s sake! Hell, John hadn’t been able to bend like that when he was nineteen; if he tried that now he was sure he’d break his kneecaps. Not that he was old, he knew he was a far cry from it, he just...wasn’t all that flexible. He still winced when he remembered how he tried to copy Freddie at their flat one day and throw his leg over his neck. He’d ripped his pants badly. Roger laughed so hard he squirted orange juice out of his nose. Brian had buried his face in hands, trying valiantly to hide his hysterics. Freddie’s leg had still been over his neck as he laughed. John had pushed him over. So all in all, fair play. He wasn’t sure who else could manage that after having a baby. There was one move in particular that sent the crowd into fits of cheers and screams: Freddie dropped down the mic stand like it was a stripper pole, slowly making his way back up, tossing his hair off his face with a smirk and a wink, with an added ‘come-hither’ crook of his finger. One teenage boy in the front row had to be held up by his friends at that. John bit his lip to keep from laughing, but most of all he was proud, happy that Freddie felt comfortable enough to even try that again. He’d come a long way. John knew that. He was doing so much better and sometimes it was all John could do to keep from running across the room, hugging Freddie and telling him how proud he was. But when John glanced to the wings and saw the staff gathered, when he saw Joe Fanelli staring at Freddie again he wanted to hit his fellow Beta over the head with his bass. Or maybe even the Red Special if Brian would let him, that thing looked like it could pack a punch. Freddie was doing better. That didn’t mean John was going to just trust this stranger with their Freddie. “In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby. In the middle of the night, in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time. Are you ready for it? Ooh, are you ready for it? Baby, let the games begin. Let the games begin. Let the games begin. Baby, let the games begin.” -...Ready For It?, Taylor Swift The after party was held at a local club, all strobe lights and smoke machines, so many people packed in you could barely move, music so loud it made your teeth ache. Part of Freddie loved it. Part of him felt terribly crowded and for a while he was stuck fighting with himself, struggling to keep his anxiety in check. One word and he knew the boys would bustle him out of here and back to the peace and quiet of the hotel, but he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be anxious, not tonight of all nights. He’d been having fun for pity’s sake, he’d been on cloud nine the whole drive here. For the first twenty minutes or so, in the middle of the crowd all he could focus on was how close everyone was, how many stranger there were (how many strange Alphas there were), how much taller so many people were than him, and oh God were his jeans too tight? Was his shirt too tight? People were looking at him, they were looking at him and- No. No, stop that. No spiralling, not tonight. He wouldn’t run and hide behind his friends this time, he could handle this. He just really needed a breather. Keeping a firm grip on his drink, Freddie elbowed his way through the crowd to the smoking area. It wasn’t exactly fresh air and he didn’t even smoke anymore (as if he’d have kept smoking while pregnant), but it was better than inside. Better still, there was hardly anyone there; just a handful of party-goers, a few familiar staff members...including Joe Fanelli. When the Beta caught sight of him he smiled, offering an admittedly awkward wave. “Hey,” he said. Freddie was pretty sure he was blushing again, damn it all to hell. “...Hi.” He felt oddly shy, not anxious or nervous, not the way he’d felt back inside, just...shy. Not quite sure what to do or say, but not overwhelmed. All the same he walked over, leaning against the wall. “Having fun?” Joe asked. Was it Freddie’s imagination or was Joe blushing? The lighting outside was too bad to tell. “Of course, it’s just...really hot and crowded in there.” He could barely even look at him, he felt sixteen, not thirty-two. What was with him? ‘He could hurt you!’ part of his brain argued. But he might not too. “I just needed a breather,” Freddie continued and Joe grinned down at him. “So you looked for fresh air in the smoking area?” “Better this than the bathroom,” Freddie grinned, hand flying up to hide his teeth. Then Joe surprised him- gently his hand reached out to lower Freddie’s away from his mouth. Freddie’s smile dropped, and Joe went red all the way down to his neck. He seemed surprised at himself, eyes wide, looking utterly mortified. His hand was still on Freddie’s. Freddie didn’t push it away. “What are you…?” “Sorry,” Joe said quickly. “I just...You- you’re always doing that, you know?” “Doing what, dear?” “Hiding your smile.” “I’m hiding my teeth, ” Freddie corrected. “Well...I don’t see why,” Joe said. His grip on Freddie’s hand tightened ever-so-slightly. “You’ve seen them, they’re huge!” “And?” Joe seemed determined to stare him down, red or not. “They’re cute. You’ve a great smile, Freddie.” That was the biggest surprise so far. Admittedly it had been one more thing Paul had poked fun at and it had been the final nail in the coffin as far as his teeth went; one final reason to hate them. One more thing Paul made him feel ugly for. Freddie peered up at him (and if he made sure to do so through his eyelashes, so what?) and grinned again. His hand wrapped properly around Joe’s and the Beta grinned down at him. “Thank you.” Later, inside, after two dances, Joe’s hands slid around his hips. Freddie waited for the wave of nausea, for the panic, for the tears to sting his eyes. None of it came. For a second he hesitated; Joe’s grip wasn’t tight, it was more like his hands were just resting there. He could easily shrug Joe off, push him out of his space. Joe’s thumbs were rubbing circles on his hips, he was looking at Freddie’s lips and Freddie could stop it there and then if he wanted to. To his own shock he didn’t want to. Slowly, cautiously, his arms wound loosely around Joe’s neck. And when Joe kissed him, he reached up to tangle his hand in Joe’s hair, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper. When Brian spotted Freddie kissing Joe on the dance floor he nearly dropped his drink in surprise. Well, he thought, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Good for him. He’d keep an eye on them, he decided, sipping his beer. He wasn’t about to trust someone they barely knew with their Fred, but...Joe seemed genuinely kind. Still, he’d keep an eye on them. Brian had better keep a wary eye out for their other band mates too: if Freddie wanted any peace tonight he’d have to make sure Roger and Deacy didn’t see this any time soon.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes but it's the only thing that I know. When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes, it is the only thing makes us feel alive. We keep this love in a photograph. We made these memories for ourselves. Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time's forever frozen still.” -Photograph,
Ed Sheeran
It had been two weeks since Joe and Freddie got together and Roger still didn’t like it any better than he had two weeks ago.
He watched as Freddie paced up and down the hotel room, on the phone with Theo. He could only hear faint murmurs from Theo’s end, but Freddie was laughing and saying things like, “Oh, is that so?” and “Well that’s because you’re so clever, darling!” and finally, “I love you baby- can you put Baa back on the phone? Yes? Yes, I love you too, Theo.” And then Jer was back talking to him and Freddie quickly signed off, flopping onto his bed with a huff.
“You holding up okay?” Roger asked.
“I want my baby,” Freddie sighed, throwing a forearm over his eyes. “Kash bought him a tricycle and he wants to show me how good he is at riding it, but this stupid tour isn’t over for another two months.”
Okay, Roger had to admit the image of Theo proudly riding a tricycle was adorable. He was one of the loudest most rambunctious toddlers Roger had ever come across, but the way the kid lit up at the sight of Freddie was adorable.
“Still need to get him a drum set,” Roger said with a smirk.
Without even removing his arm from his eyes Freddie groped behind him and flung a pillow at Roger’s face. Of course it sailed harmlessly overhead and hit the wall. “Don’t you dare, he’s loud enough.”
There was their usual comfortable silence for a few minutes before Freddie sighed again and climbed onto Roger’s bed instead. Automatically, Roger’s arm went around Freddie’s waist and Freddie hid his face in Roger’s shoulder.
“What’s all this, hm, Fred?”
“...You don’t like Joe, do you darling?”
Ah. He should have expected this at some point.
“He’s alright,” he said, though he couldn’t keep the stiffness from his voice.
“Roggie.”
Freddie peered up at him, hair falling in his eyes. “Why don’t you like him?”
Involuntarily, flashes of Ridge Farm came back; Freddie crying so hard he was nearly choking, flinching away from Brian of all people in the world. Clinging to Roger like he was the only safe space in existence, the blood seeping through his pyjamas, the bruises and bite marks all over his skin. The gut-wrenching horror at what Prenter had done. The knowledge that he’d failed his best friend.
“You know why,” he managed to say past the sudden lump in his throat. Freddie pressed closer, his grip on Roger tightening.
“He’s not like that, Rog.”
“I know.” And he
did
know that; Joe was the type of guy who rushed ahead to open doors for people. He looked utterly delighted when Freddie laughed. He wasn’t exactly
shy,
but there was certain hesitation when he put his hands on Freddie, as if he expected to be told he wasn’t allowed to do that. “I
know,
” Roger repeated, anguished. “I just...God, Freddie I don’t want anyone to hurt you. You know that. I don’t care if he’s a saint, I can’t just...Just make myself calm down.”
Freddie looked so
worried
and Roger hastened to continue; “I’m happy for you,
God,
I promise I am. I just...I worry about you.”
Sometimes Roger could have sworn that Freddie could read his thoughts, that he could see right through him and peek into his mind. Now was one of those times; eyes large and calm, if a little sad, Freddie quietly said, “Rog...Do you ever think you need to talk to someone too? About what happened?”
No, he never considered it. Why would he? Freddie had been hurt, not him.
“No, why?”
“It’s just...You act like it’s your fault, darling. You don’t listen when I tell you it wasn’t.” Freddie was absentmindedly tapping Roger’s arm as he spoke; mimicking him, Roger lightly tapped his waist.
“Yeah, because you insist it was
your
fault.” He sighed heavily. “I’m fine.”
“Just...Think about it? Please?”
He looked down into those big sad eyes and frankly, he’d have cut off his own hand if Freddie asked him to.
“Yeah,” he sighed. He’d think about it, though he couldn’t see himself changing his mind. “I’ll think about it.” He smiled down at him again. “I am happy for you, I mean it. He seems nice.”
“He is,” Freddie grinned. “I really like him.”
“I'm doing better than I ever was, 'cause my baby's fit like a daydream, walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to. My baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.” -Call It What You Want,
Taylor Swift
One pleasant surprise was how Joe just casually accepted that Freddie had a three-year-old. Rather than being repulsed or judgemental he smiled and asked if Freddie had any pictures.
He did. Lots of them.
“Oh, that’s adorable.” Joe grinned at the picture in his hands. The photo was a year old: it showed Freddie and a two-year-old Theo at the beach, ankle-deep in the water. Well, ankle-deep in Theo’s case. Freddie was kneeling behind him, arms around his baby and grinning blindingly at the camera. Theo was grinning and making grabby hands to the camera (or more accurately he had been making grabby hands at Veronica, who took the picture in the first place). Theo’s sunhat was slipping sideways and seconds after the photo was taken it had fallen off entirely.
“He’s Roger’s, right?” Joe asked, innocently oblivious, and Freddie’s throat dried up.
“...Yes,” he lied. It was what everyone assumed anyway, he reminded himself. They’d only been dating for two weeks. He didn’t have to tell Joe yet, surely? He didn’t want to tell Joe about Paul
at all.
He felt fine now. Why should he have to drag it all up again? If he brought it up he’d panic again. He’d want to run; for all he knew he
might
run and never look Joe in the eye again. He’d end up bursting into tears and he’d flinch away and he’d just end up feeling disgusting again.
Joe might not want him around if Freddie told him. He might think Freddie was disgusting. He wouldn’t think Theo was cute if he knew.
Freddie really
really
liked him. Joe made him
happy.
He didn’t want to lie to him, but the thought of blurting the truth out made him feel sick.
“Huh…” Joe squinted slightly, peering at Theo more closely. “He looks more like you than Roger.”
He looks more like me than Paul.
“I know, poor love.” Freddie managed to laugh as he said it.
And Joe smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “I’d have said lucky him.”
“You're dripping like a saturated sunrise.You're spilling like an overflowing sink. You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece and now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink. Everything is blue, his pills, his hands, his jeans and now I'm covered in the colors, pull apart at the seams.” -Colours,
Halsey
Another week later, yet another state, another sold out concert hall. Freddie was riding high on the adoration of the crowd, of just how well things were going- but good Lord was he knackered. It was a rare, blessed day off. Freddie had been more than a little tempted to just sleep the day away in the hotel room but then, around evening time, Joe turned up and asked if he wanted to go out.
“I know a good place down by the boardwalk,” he said with a hopeful smile and well, Freddie was a goner.
It
was
a good restaurant; quiet, not too expensive with some
delicious
pasta and a gorgeous view of the sun setting over the harbour. Better yet there wasn’t a reporter in sight.
“Sorry for dragging you out on your day off,” Joe said but Freddie shook his head, smiling at him.
“Don’t be, it’s lovely,” he said. He didn’t feel so bone-deep tired after sleeping for most of the afternoon and the walk down to the restaurant had been surprisingly refreshing. The food really was delicious, the wine was almost as good and he felt pleasantly relaxed. Still a little sleepy if he was totally honest (he’d be out like a light later, he was sure), but mostly he just felt content.
There was a light breeze coming from the harbour, it was still nice and warm out despite the setting sun and Freddie didn’t want to move.
Well, they had to go back to the hotel eventually.
Normally when they reached Joe’s room they’d split off for the night. They’d kiss, Joe would rock them back and forth when they hugged and then Freddie would go to his room where Roger (and more often than not, Brian and Deacy too) would inevitably grill him about how his evening had gone.
This time, after Freddie pulled back and went to leave, Joe took his hand.
“...Do you want to come in?” he asked.
Freddie knew what he meant. His hands suddenly felt heavy, his first instinct was to run. But this was
Joe.
He wouldn’t...If Freddie didn’t want to he’d stop, wouldn’t he? If Freddie got overwhelmed Joe would surely stop?
...Wouldn’t he?
Say yes or say no? What to do?
He looked into Joe’s hopeful eyes, took in his gentle smile and something in him hardened. He was sick of being scared. Why should he keep being scared? Was fear of Paul going to dictate his whole life?
No. No, he wouldn’t let it. He
wouldn’t.
If he could have a baby, release albums, write number one hits and go on tour in America he could do this. He
could.
But did he
want
to? Well, yes, part of him
did
want to, he could admit that. It rather frightened him but he did want to at least
try.
Another part of him wanted to run straight to his room and hide under the covers.
He could always change his mind, couldn’t he? Joe wasn’t...He wasn’t
Paul,
he wasn’t going to hurt him.
So, forcing his fear back down, Freddie smile up at Joe and said, “Of course, darling.”
“Fading out again, I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream. So tell me when it kicks in. Well, tell me when it kicks in. Tell me when it kicks in. All the voices in my mind, calling out across the line. All the voices in my mind, calling out across the line.” -Bloodstream,
Ed Sheeran
He was alright at first. He felt okay, albeit nervous. He kept hiding his face in Joe’s chest, blushing red to the roots of his hair, but he was okay really. Joe laughed quietly, tilting his chin up. “Quit hiding on me, babe,” he said, smiling. Even when Joe laid him down Freddie was smiling into the kiss. For a moment he wondered why he’d been nervous at all.
It wasn’t until all his clothes were off that the panic began to swell in his chest.
Joe gently nudged his legs open and-
Paul forced his legs open, spreading them so far it hurt, fingernails digging into his thighs and-
-Joe, slow and careful, pushed a finger into him and smiled against his neck. “You wet for me, babe?”
Paul pushed two fingers in, ignoring Freddie’s muffled scream, frowning as he twisted them. “You’re dry,” he said flatly as he pulled his fingers out. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And-
He tried to ground himself when Joe kissed him, as he made his way down Freddie’s neck, but-
It
hurt,
it so much, Paul wouldn’t stop
biting
him, sucking hard on his skin, slapping him when he sobbed-
Joe’s hands ran gently down his thighs, hooking under his knees and-
-and Paul ran his nails down Freddie’s thighs, scratching so hard that Freddie winced, trying to twist away, trying to get his bearings past the throbbing pain in his head, yelping when Paul pulled him closer.
“God, you’re gorgeous.”
“Stop crying you damn whore, you
wanted
this.”
Joe gently pinched a nipple, mouthing at his neck again as he added a finger and-
Paul twisted his nipple until Freddie cried out against the gag, smirking at the tears on his cheeks, leaning down to bite the other until it throbbed and-
He tried to speak past the wave of panic but he just
froze,
he couldn’t speak, he
couldn’t-
-he tried to scream but Paul had shoved his own underwear in his mouth, right after he bashed Freddie's head onto the ground, laughing after he did. “You look the part now, slut,” Paul sneered. He couldn’t make enough noise to alert anyone. His friends were right upstairs and they couldn’t
hear
him-
Then he felt Joe pull his fingers out, felt the tip of him at his entrance and- and-and-
“DON’T!”
Instantly, Joe pulled away. Freddie couldn’t see anything past the tears in his eyes, couldn’t say anything past the sobs and then he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. He kept his eyes shut, hands over his mouth to try and muffle the sobs, but he just
couldn’t,
he couldn’t do this, why had he thought he could do this? He couldn’t breathe, oh God, oh God,
he couldn’t breathe.
“Freddie? Fred? Baby, what’s wrong?” Joe asked frantically. “Did I hurt you? Hon, what
is
it?”
“I-I-I...I
c-can’t,
I...I…”
The next thing he knew Joe had pulled him into sitting up, wrapping the bedsheet around him, rubbing a hand up and down his back.
“Shh, shh, it’s alright. Freddie? It’s okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on, babe, deep breaths. That’s the ticket. There we go; in for four...Hold for seven, out for eight...That’s it, you’re okay see?”
He was at Ridge Farm and Paul was pushing him to the ground and-
No, he was at the hotel and poor Joe had no idea why he was losing it, he thought he’d done something wrong, Freddie had to tell him it wasn’t his fault, he-
He wanted to
die,
he wanted this all to
stop,
for it all to be a nightmare-
It was over. It had happened three years ago. It was
done.
He managed to open his eyes, meeting Joe’s petrified gaze.
“Fuck, Fred, I’m sorry,” Joe repeated. “Did I hurt you?”
Poor, lovely, steadfast Joe. Freddie was suddenly sure he’d ruined everything by freaking out. He didn’t want to say it. Surely he could come up with a lie?
But he couldn’t think straight, he was struggling to keep a grip on where and when he was, and who he was with.
Joe,
not Paul. Salt water and citrus, not leather and coffee, not the nearly overwhelming scent of whiskey on top of it all. He was wrapped in a soft bedsheet, not pinned naked to the ground. Joe was concerned, not laughing. Gentle, not punishing.
He closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to see the look on Joe’s face when he said it.
“I was raped,” he choked out. “Theo...He’s not Roger’s. I...I…” He didn’t know what else to say. What else
was
there to say?
He expected Joe to stop holding him. He expected Joe to explode. Instead Joe pulled him closer, resting his chin on top of Freddie’s head.
“I’m sorry,” Freddie mumbled.
“
What?
Freddie, Jesus Christ, you’ve nothing to be sorry for! You know that, right?”
Silence.
“Fred?”
“...Sometimes.” Freddie shrugged, curling up smaller. “Usually. I just...I can’t...I thought I could...I thought I could handle it…”
“It’s okay.” Joe pulled back, cupping Freddie’s cheek. “Fred, it’s
alright,
I promise. You’re alright. I’m not...God, I’m not gonna make you do anything, I swear.”
Freddie knew they should talk about it, but the idea of having the conversation in depth while he was still in tears and wearing only a sheet made him want to curl up and die.
“...I...I think I want to go to my room,” he mumbled.
“That’s fine,” Joe said, running a hand through Freddie’s hair. “I mean it, I’m not gonna make you do anything.”
Freddie believed him. It didn’t really help.
Joe walked him to his room. Before Freddie could go in, Joe asked, “Can I give you a hug?”
Freddie nodded and instantly found himself wrapped in Joe’s arms. Thankfully Joe seemed to know better than to squeeze him tightly right now. It was a firm hug, but gentle and Joe kissed the top of his head, giving his hand a final squeeze before Freddie opened the door and slipped into his room.
To his surprise it wasn’t just Roger in the room; Brian and Deacy were also crowded on Roger’s bed, all three of them watching some black and white police show on the tiny telly.
“And just
where
have you been at this hour, young man?” Deacy teased with a grin but when they saw him- when they took in his tangled hair and tear stained cheeks, when they took in how he was still trembling and his breathing was still irregular- the smiles died.
“What did that bastard do?” Roger demanded as Brian rushed over to guide Freddie to Roger’s bed.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked, voice verging on hysterical. “Jesus, Fred, what happened?”
“He didn’t do anything,” Freddie said quickly, shaking his head. “It was...It was
me,
I was stupid, I...I pushed myself too far, I…”
Without a word, and Freddie could
feel
himself blushing, Roger lifted him right up and plopped him on Roger’s lap; his arms went around Freddie’s waist and he curled over him, trying to shield him.
“You’re alright,” Roger said quietly. One hand reached up to push Freddie’s hair off his face. “You’re okay. Prenter’s gone, Freddie, you’re okay.” Of course he figured it out. They could probably smell Joe on him anyway.
“I thought I could handle it,” Freddie said. His voice cracked and he had to close his eyes again. “I was doing okay.”
“You’re
still
doing okay,” Deacy insisted. His hand rested on Freddie’s back, Brian’s tangled in his hair. Both of them joined the hug so the three of them protected Freddie from all angles. “Oh, Freddie, it’s
okay.
A panic attack doesn’t mean you’re back to square one. It’ll be alright.”
“I told him,” Freddie admitted. “I told him what happened. He’s going to hate me.”
“No he won’t,” Brian said.
“Of course he won’t,” Roger said to the surprise of all. “He cares about you, mate.”
“I was doing
alright,
” Freddie burst out, angry at himself, angry at Paul, angry at
everything.
But most of all he just felt
tired
and sad. “This isn’t fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Brian agreed softly.
They stayed like that for nearly an hour, until they finally separated. Brian and Deacy hurried next door to change into their pyjamas and then rushed back. Roger and Brian pushed the beds together to make one huge bed while Deacy found some tissues for Freddie.
Exhausted and heartsick, Freddie collapsed onto the bed with his boys. Roger spooned him, Deacy held Freddie to his chest and Brian spooned Deacy, throwing a long arm over the three of them.
“We love you, Freddie,” Roger said quietly.
“Love you too,” Freddie said, face pressed against Deacy’s chest.
One by one they fell asleep. Freddie was just thankful he didn’t have any nightmares. His sleep was completely dreamless. He slept until the middle of the afternoon, the last to wake up and still exhausted when he woke up. He didn't want to get up. He knew he had to though.
“What do you want to do?” Brian asked. Roger was still holding onto him.
“I…” Freddie swallowed, holding onto Roger’s hands tightly. “I’d better talk to Joe.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I'll carry you home, no you're not alone. Keep marching on, this is worth fighting for, you know we've all got battle scars. You've had enough but just don't give up. Stick to your guns, you are worth fighting for, you know we've all got battle scars. Keep marching on.” -Battle Scars,
Paradise Fears
It wasn’t an easy talk. They sat cross-legged on Freddie’s bed, facing each other as Freddie explained everything. To Joe’s credit he didn’t interrupt. His expression changed as Freddie spoke; one moment furious, the next moment anguished, and then something a bit like the fierce pride Freddie sometimes glimpsed in Brian’s eyes.
“And...Well, I suppose that’s everything,” Freddie said and he couldn’t keep looking at Joe. He kept his head down, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. “I should have said something sooner, darling, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for freaking out on you like that.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Joe insisted. “Fred, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Freddie was pretty sure he’d have to book an appointment with his therapist as soon as he got home. He hadn’t felt this drained in ages. It felt like a step back. It felt like failure. He hated it.
Then Joe said; “I don’t get you, sometimes.”
With a stab of panic, Freddie looked at him. But Joe wasn’t frowning, he looked more thoughtful than anything, an almost rueful smile playing at his lips. “How the hell are you so brave?” he asked and Freddie sagged in relief; his heart beat more easily as he shook his head and said, “I’m not really, I just...I
had
to do it. I didn’t want to...to crack up, to let him break me.” He wasn’t quite sure how to articulate it all. “He...He’d already taken something,” he said slowly. “I didn’t want to let him have everything. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” Joe said with a smile.
“Can we talk about something happier now?” Freddie asked. Joe’s smile widened to a grin.
“Well, I heard Crystal got drunk and tried pole dancing last night,” he offered and Freddie burst out laughing.
“Perfect,” he said. “Tell me more.”
Two months later…
Maybe they should have thought ahead, because now the tour was over and they were facing each other in the airport with no idea of what to do. Neither was even sure if this was the end of their relationship or not. Was this it? Were they done? Were they still together even with an ocean between them?
“I’m really going to miss you, dear,” Freddie said. It was the truth; he would. He’d miss him more than he’d expected. Already, he was trying not to cry.
Joe hugged him so hard he lifted him off the ground. “I’ll miss you too,” he said and his voice broke. “Tell Theo I said hi, yeah?”
“Of course,” Freddie said, hugging Joe so tightly his arms ached. “And if you’re ever in London call me, okay?”
“Of course,” Joe mimicked- and then they had to go.
One last hug, one last kiss, one last wave and Freddie had to go. He kept looking back long after Joe was out of sight.
“Are you okay?” Roger asked, squeezing his arm.
“Not really,” Freddie said honestly. “I hate this.”
“Well, you’ll see Theo in a few hours,” Roger offered. It was probably the one thing that could get Freddie smiling at that moment. Somehow the flight suddenly seemed longer and shorter at the same time; more than anything in that moment he just wanted his baby.
It was ten in the morning when they landed in Heathrow. Exhausted, struggling to keep their eyes open,
Queen
staggered into Arrivals- and there was their welcome party. Chrissie and baby Jimmy. Veronica with Robert, Michael and Laura. Dominique, with her hand resting on her stomach. She was smiling smugly and Roger stopped dead, gawking shamelessly.
They all took it in; her hand was resting on her stomach. No big deal in itself. If it wasn’t for the fact that her stomach was looking a little swollen…
“You didn’t
tell
me!?” Roger exploded, but he was grinning widely. He dropped his bags and hurried forward, swinging Dominique around, laughing. “Fucking hell, Dom, why didn’t you tell me!?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she grinned as he set her down.
“Well you sure fucking surprised me,” Roger said.
“Were you in on this?” Deacy asked, after kissing Veronica soundly.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Chrissie smirked, an arm around Brian. Roger and Michael were clamoring for hugs, which Deacy gladly gave.
And then…
“PAPA!”
There was Theo, running as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. Kashmira hurried after him, hair flying.
“Theo, be
careful!
” she called. Freddie hardly heard her; he ran forward, pushing past his friends to fall to his knees and scoop Theo up in his arms, holding his son tightly against his chest. The battle to not cry got a whole lot harder as Theo clung to him, head lolling against Freddie’s chest like it did when he was a baby.
“Missed you, Papa,” he said and Freddie had to bite back a sob.
“I missed you too, darling,” he said shakily. Theo’s hair had gotten longer, curling at the ends now and he’d gotten taller. The tears slipped out, he couldn’t help it. He was close to laughing in sheer happiness to be home, to have Theo back, but the tears escaped despite his best efforts.
“Papa, you’re cryin’,” Theo said, patting Freddie’s cheek.
“Happy tears, darling,” Freddie reassured him. “I’m really happy to see you.”
1980, London, England
“Does anybody have a map? Anybody maybe happen to know how the hell to do this?I don't know if you can tell but this is me just pretending to know. So where's the map? I need a clue, 'cause the scary truth is I'm flying blind and I'm making this up as I go.” -Anybody Have A Map?,
Dear Evan Hansen
Freddie had always worried about Theo’s health: colds went straight to his chest, he got out of breath easily and ended up coughing for most of the winter. So he always made sure Theo was wrapped up warm, always urged him to be careful.
It didn’t occur to him what this all might be greater symptoms of. Not until he got a call from Theo’s school and the headmistress tried to sound calm as she explained that Theo had collapsed during P.E.
“We think it was an asthma attack,” she explained. “He’s been sent to Saint Mary’s- Miss Leopold’s with him.”
For a moment the world tilted sideways and he had to grab the kitchen counter to keep from collapsing. Oscar circled around his feet, meowing pitifully when he noticed Freddie’s distress. The headmistress was still talking but the words didn’t make any sense.
Theo was in hospital, Theo had collapsed, his baby was ill, he was in danger.
There was a dull ringing in his ears, the room was still spinning and he couldn’t seem to get enough air.
The next thing he knew he was screaming Phoebe’s name. Thank God,
thank God
Phoebe was visiting, he didn’t know how he’d handle waiting for a taxi.
He sprinted ahead of Phoebe to get through the hospital doors, nearly tripping and nearly knocking an old man over. By the time he reached the front desk he was out of breath and he could hear Phoebe panting behind him.
“I...I’m here for...For Theo Mercury,” he gasped. And as soon as he had directions to Theo’s room he was running again, every instinct screaming at him to get to his son, to protect him, to make sure he was safe and there and breathing. He wouldn’t,
couldn’t
listen when Phoebe called for him to slow down, to wait. He had to get to Theo.
His knees nearly gave out from the relief when he saw Theo, wide awake and sitting up in bed. Miss Leopold was sitting next to him, holding his hand.
“Papa!” Theo cried, instantly brightening. “What’re you doing here?”
“Looking for
you,
silly,” Freddie said, wrapping Theo in his arms, cradling his head against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“My chest feels funny,” Theo said. “I couldn’t breathe, Papa. I was just running, but…” He looked up at Freddie with a pout. “I dunno what happened. I think I fell.”
“The doctor will be back in a minute,” Miss Leopold said as Phoebe finally caught up and came hurrying in. “But we’re pretty certain it was an asthma attack. Has this ever happened before?”
“No,” Freddie said, shaking his head and holding Theo as close as he could. “His chest has always been weak, but...Nothing like this has ever happened before.” Dear God, why had he never thought of this before? Why hadn’t he anticipated this? He should have gotten Theo tested or
something, anything
to keep him safe. He should have
realised.
And when the tests came back they only confirmed what they all suspected: it was asthma.
It could have been worse,
Freddie reminded himself as he took Theo home.
It could have been much worse.
That didn’t stop him from wanting to rip his hair out, or stop him from wanting to wrap Theo in bubble wrap and keep him safe. Theo seemed to find the whole inhaler business fascinating. At least he wasn’t scared.
“What’s asthma anyway?” Theo asked.
“It’s...It’s a breathing problem, love,” Freddie said hesitantly. “You’ll have to be careful, okay? You have to listen to what the doctors tell you.”
“When I get the inhaler can I show my friends?” Theo looked like it was all just a game, just an adventure. Freddie wanted to impress on him how serious it was, how dangerous it could be...But he didn’t want to scare him either.
“You can show them,” he said. “But I mean it, Theo; whatever the doctors say you have to
listen.
And if your chest hurts you have to tell me. Promise?”
Theo nodded. “Promise, Papa.” He held his pinky out with a grin. “Pinky promise.”
And Freddie hooked their pinky fingers together, shaking their linked hands up and down with a smile he hoped was convincing. “Pink promise.”
“Got no feel, I got no rhythm. I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing). I'm OK, I'm alright (he's alright, he's alright), I ain't gonna face no defeat (yeah yeah). I just gotta get out of this prison cell, one day (someday) I'm gonna be free, Lord! Find me somebody to love. Find me somebody to love.” -Somebody To Love,
Queen
Generally speaking, Jim enjoyed being a hairdresser. You got to meet such a wide variety of people; punk teenagers looking for the craziest of styles, the elderly always so prim and proper, that one bloke who always wanted the exact same haircut every time he was in, and the girl who came in every few weeks having ignored their advice and tried to cut her fringe herself.
Then, one blustery day in October in came an Omega holding a little boy by the hand.
The little boy smelled of lilacs and mint; he was tall for his age, pale with freckles scattered across his nose. His thick black hair curled at the ends, nearly reaching his shoulders, a few cow licks stood out here and there. He clutched his father’s hand tightly, peering around him with bright hazel eyes, narrowed in distaste. He kept looking at the door like it held his salvation.
As for the Omega...Jim’s first thought was,
Pretty,
to his own embarrassment. He wasn’t very tall, the littlest slip of a thing if Jim was honest. Warm olive skin, full lips and the most stunning pair of brown eyes Jim had ever seen. Clean shaven with thick black hair like his son’s, only much shorter and neater. He smelled like flowers and spices and as he took his scarf and gloves off Jim saw he wore no wedding ring, no engagement ring; there was no bond mark on his neck. He wasn’t Jim’s normal type- he preferred tall men, broad men, someone his size or larger. He could easily lift the Omega up he was sure...Yet he found himself blushing all the same.
“I don’t
like
it here, Papa,” the little boy hissed as his father helped him remove his star patterned scarf.
“Theo, be nice,” the Omega said with a patient smile. “You
know
haircuts don’t hurt.”
“But I don’t like them!” the little boy- Theo?- insisted. He was scowling heavily, arms folded. His father only raised an eyebrow, staring his son down. Jim quickly scanned through the list of appointments and sure enough…
“Theo Mercury, is it?” he asked and both of them jumped like they hadn’t realised Jim was there.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” the Omega said with a small smile. “That’s this little trouble maker here.”
“I don’t like haircuts,” Theo repeated.
“And why’s that?” Jim asked with a patient smile.
Theo shrugged irritably. “They suck,” he said and the Omega turned to frown at him.
“Theo,”
he said warningly. “No
Looney Toons
if you don’t behave.”
That shut Theo up, though he was still pouting. The Omega peered up at Jim through his long eyelashes, that shy smile still on his face. “Sorry about this,” he said. “I don’t know why he suddenly hates haircuts, he’s not even scared of scissors.”
“A lot of children go through phases like this, don’t worry,” Jim said. “So is it just a trim today?”
“Anything you can do to neaten this up,” the Omega said, ruffling his son’s hair. Theo was still clearly making an effort to be grumpy, but his eyes lit up and he smiled up at his father like he hung the moon and stars. Jim’s heart just
melted.
The Omega held his hand out to Jim.
“I’m Freddie Mercury,” he said. Jim shook his hand, engulfing his small one in his own large one. The flowers and spices washed over him; the Omega’s hand was soft and warm and he had to resist the urge to squeeze it. Part of him wanted to ask where Theo’s other father was, to find out if he stood even the slightest of chances of getting Freddie’s number, but he didn’t dare be so presumptuous or rude. He was being daft, he told himself. Heck, he was being crazy! They’d literally just met. Freddie was only here to get his son’s unruly hair sorted out, not to get a date.
“I’m Jim Hutton,” he said returning Freddie’s smile and as he released Freddie’s hand he turned to Theo. “So, shall we get started?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
October 1980, Garden Lodge, London
“Speak to me. When all you got to keep is strong, move along, move along like I know you do. And even when your hope is gone, move along, move along just to make it through. Move along.” -Move Along,
All American Rejects
“This is
ours!?
” Theo exclaimed, eyes about to pop out of his head. He grinned widely, bouncing on his toes as he took in the mansion before them, eyes roaming over the huge garden. The garden would need some work, Freddie decided. It definitely had potential from size alone; but it would need some flowerbeds, maybe a new patio, a barbeque space...And over there, by the wall, they could plant a cherry blossom tree, make room for a pond. Some fairy lights in the trees would be beautiful too, especially when it started to snow.
“It’s ours,” Freddie smiled at him, a hand resting on top of Theo’s head. “Just wait until you see how big the bedrooms are.”
That sold it; Theo went rushing ahead, crying “Bagsy the biggest room!” Laughing, Freddie ran after him. “Excuse you, the biggest one’s mine!”
It was perfect really. The house, Garden Lodge, was beautiful as it was, but Freddie already had a million and one ideas on how to make it even better. What colours to pick, what walls to knock down, what furniture and decorations to get. Tom, Jerry and Oscar would have ample space to roam. Theo could have a playroom. Freddie could have a music room, not just somewhere to shove his piano, but somewhere to sit and just
create.
And best of all there was
security.
The wall surrounding the property was over six feet high; both the front gate and side gate were pure metal, impossible to see through and you either needed a key to get in, or be buzzed in from the house.
Perfect.
“I love it here!” Theo said, still jumping up and down.
“Careful, darling,” Freddie cautioned him. Theo slowed his jumping, but didn’t stop entirely. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
“Bet I have the biggest house of the whole
class,
” he stated proudly. Freddie couldn’t help but grin at him, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“Oh, easily,” he agreed. “You can show off horribly.”
The first night they spent in Garden Lodge, Theo crept into Freddie’s room. He edged the double sliding-doors open and whispered, “Papa?” Freddie woke up the second Theo crawled onto the bed.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Can’t sleep,” Theo said. Freddie couldn’t blame him. Lovely as the house was it was odd trying to settle into a new place. It was just them and the cats for now: Phoebe wouldn’t be moving in for another three days. In the silence of the night the house felt very big and they felt very small. So Freddie pushed the covers back and opened his arms. “Come here then, darling.”
Theo curled up close, half on top of Freddie. Freddie ran his hands through Theo’s hair, humming softly. Theo was quiet for a moment Freddie thought he’d fallen back asleep. But then Theo spoke up.
“Papa?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Why don’t we live with Roger?”
Confused, Freddie peered down at him. “Why would we, Theo?”
Theo was looking up at him, eyes big and curious. “Well, he’s my daddy isn’t he?”
Oh fuck.
He should have known this would come up eventually. He had never told Theo Roger was his father; none of them had, not once. But you couldn’t shut the press up. Theo was old enough to hear rumours and draw his own conclusions.
He wished Roger was here to help. He wished any of the boys or his family were here to help. But there were some things he had to handle alone.
It nearly broke his heart to say, “No, darling, he’s not.”
Poor Theo just looked so bewildered, so very lost. “But the other kids at school say he is!” he protested. He looked close to tears already; his fierce little boy who hated crying in front of anyone, even Freddie. He frowned, eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle out what Freddie was telling him. “But then
who’s
my daddy? Why isn’t he here?”
Large, cold hands ripping his clothes off, tying his wrists above his head-
Blood on his legs, bruised and sore all over, too tired to keep screaming, too numb to cry-
No. No, that wasn’t what he should focus on. Not here, not now, not when Theo so desperately needed answers.
Paul Prenter being dragged away to jail, protesting that he wasn’t to blame, that it was Freddie’s fault. The relief washing over him. His hands resting on his bump, hidden under all the layers he was wearing to hide it from the court and Paul. The silent promise to himself and his unborn child:
you’re not his. You’ll
never
be his.
“Your...Your daddy wasn’t nice, Theo,” he began gently. “He had to go away. He hurt me and he would have hurt you if he stayed.”
“If he was bad why’d you have a baby with ‘im?”
“...Because I wanted you, silly.” Freddie forced a smile and Theo relaxed somewhat. “I love you more than anything, you know that.”
“He won’t come hurt us, will he?” Theo asked and Freddie felt his heart shatter again.
“No,” he said firmly. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt us.”
And if by some miracle he got out and found us I’d kill him before I let him near you.
Theo snuggled closer, head resting on Freddie’s chest. “Love you, Papa,” he mumbled.
“I love you too, darling.”
“Least I can say is that I tried. I’ll take this red ribbon, lie it on the pavement and I won’t cross that line. Remember all of the pain, was it all too much? Remember falling apart every time we touch. Remember going insane but I’ll never give up. A heart that’s been broken is a heart that’s been loved.” -Red Ribbon,
Madilyn Bailey
When Freddie turned up late to the studio and flung himself into the nearest chair without a word, Brian knew something was wrong. Then Freddie buried his face in hands and said, “I had to tell Theo he’s not Roger’s.”
“Oh fuck,” Brian muttered. Instantly they were all three by Freddie’s side.
“What’d you tell him?” Roger asked gently.
“Just that you’re not his dad,” Freddie said tiredly. “And that his dad was a bad person who had to go away. He asked why I had a baby if he was bad and...Fuck, what could I say to that? I just told him I wanted him. Then he asked if Paul was going to come back and hurt us.”
Brian felt close to crying at that, imagining stubborn, headstrong Theo actually expressing fear. Though knowing Theo that fear wasn’t just for himself; he’d be worried about Freddie too. That kid was scarily protective and possessive sometimes. Another thing the press compared him to Roger for. Their tempers; how protective they were of Freddie.
It would be a sweet narrative if it was true.
“Is he okay?” Deacy asked. “I mean, how did he handle it?”
“He was confused at first,” Freddie said. “Upset. Scared for a while, though then…” And here, a tired smile crossed his face. “This morning he said
‘Don’t worry, Papa, I can stop the bad man.’
” As quick as that, his face crumpled again. “He shouldn’t have to feel like that. He shouldn’t be thinking that. He shouldn’t
have
to.”
One more thing to hate Paul Prenter for, Brian thought. He wasn’t even around anymore, but he still somehow managed to effect Theo’s life.
“I guess I just...It just made me realise he’s going to question things more as he gets older.” Freddie looked bone-deep exhausted, ready to fall asleep there and then. “I always
knew
he’d have questions. I always knew I’d have to lie to keep him happy. I just didn’t really
know
until now; I hate lying to him.”
“You can’t tell him,” Roger said, taking Freddie’s hand. “He’s far too young for that.”
“I
know
that,” Freddie said impatiently. “I’m not stupid, Rog. Hell, I don’t
ever
want to tell him. Can you imagine what it would do to him?”
“Then we’d better start brainstorming a story,” Brian said. “If we’re going to hide this forever we’d better set a narrative.”
“I hate this,” Freddie said. “That bastard shouldn’t be allowed to affect Theo like this.”
“No, he shouldn’t,” Deacy agreed quietly. They all agreed, for certain. Once more Brian found himself wishing that Prenter was dead in a ditch somewhere. Wished Roger had slit his throat after all. Wished Theo was Roger’s in truth, not just in rumour.
But they didn’t live in that world. They lived in this one; in a world where Prenter violently attacked their best friend. In a world where, to protect Theo, they had to lie to him. In a world where, despite it all, Freddie kept going. And Theo, thank goodness, was happy.
Brian prayed it would last. He prayed Theo would never learn the truth, because Freddie was right- what would it do to the poor kid?
After recording and attempting to come up with an age-appropriate story to give to Theo, they were all well and truly knackered. Roger said what they were all thinking; “Fuck this, I need a drink.”
So after ringing their respective families to explain they’d be late they headed to the nearest pub.
And that was where Freddie once more ran into Jim Hutton.
He leaned against the bar, waiting for service when a vaguely familiar voice said, “Hello again.”
When he glanced over his shoulder he came face to face with his son’s hairdresser. He was a bit taller than Deacy, broad, a little chubby; thick brown hair with a moustache and a pair of soft brown eyes. An Irish Alpha who smelled of smoke and freshly cut grass. He was the only hairdresser Freddie had come across who managed to keep Theo calm and happy to boot. He’d kept Theo thoroughly distracted as he cut his hair, asking him about school and his hobbies and which Looney Tune was his favourite. Before Theo knew it his hair had been neatened out, still a little longer than necessary, but much better than before.
He seemed calm and kind (and more handsome than Freddie wanted to admit), and Freddie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.
“Hi,” he said. “Jim isn’t it?”
“Jim Hutton,” the Alpha said. He joined Freddie by the bar, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the beer-stained wood. “Freddie Mercury, right?”
“Right.”
“Long day?” Jim asked and Freddie smiled ruefully, ducking his head to hide his teeth.
“Is it that obvious, darling?”
“No offence, but you look ready to fall asleep,” Jim grinned.
“Oh, we had a long day recording.” Freddie tried in vain to get the bartender’s attention. The man marched right past to serve a group of college students. Typical.
“Recording?” Jim asked.
“You know, for the next album,” Freddie shrugged. “We can’t agree on what should be the single, but that’s nothing new. We fight over everything.”
“You’re in a band?”
Freddie looked at him, startled. He expected Jim to be holding back laughter, or smirking, sneering-
something
to give away that he was just pretending to be oblivious. But no, he looked innocently curious. Had he really not noticed the whispers and stares that followed Freddie across the room? Had he really not seen the nervous young woman approach Deacy for an autograph? Did he really not
know?
“You...You have no idea who I am, do you?” Freddie asked. He was surprised to realise just how happy that made him, to have a conversation with someone who sincerely didn’t realise who he was and what he did. Someone who seemed to just want to chat, no strings attached.
“Should I?” Jim raised an eyebrow and Freddie smirked, standing as tall as he could, hand on his hip.
“I’m the lead singer in
Queen,
darling,” he said. Jim still looked a little lost, but he nodded and said, “Think I know the name. My landlady talks about you a lot...Or rather, she likes your guitarist. Ryan?”
“That would be
Brian,
dear,” Freddie said, jerking his head in Brian’s direction. Said guitarist seemed to be playing frisbee with Roger, tossing a coaster back and forth. Poor Deacy, caught between them, looked like he was severely regretting his life choices as he chugged his beer.
“You don’t exactly
look
like rockstars,” Jim said. Freddie rolled his eyes with a smirk, all too used to hearing that by now.
“And what do we look like then?”
“I’d have said you look pretty.”
Oh.
Jim had gone red, avoiding eye contact, tapping his fingers on the bar again. Freddie swallowed, holding back a smile.
“Thought I looked exhausted?”
“Still pretty.”
Freddie found himself wishing he
did
look pretty right then, but he knew full well what he looked like; he was wearing an oversized T-shirt he’d “forgotten” to return to Roger, scuffed trainers and a pair of old jeans. His hair was ruffled from running his hands through it all day and it was quite obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. He’d looked worse for sure, but this was far from his best. It certainly wasn’t what he wanted to look like when a handsome man was doing his best to (awkwardly) chat him up.
“You’re full of bullshit, but thank you,” he said, smiling widely. He forgot to cover his teeth until Jim grinned back.
“So...How long until your friends come drag you away?” Jim asked. Freddie looked over to them; Roger was indeed eyeing Jim suspiciously, Deacy looked far from impressed and Brian looked somewhat surprised but was also looking at Jim warily. His boys. Lovely, deeply protective and maddening at times.
“Not long,” Freddie admitted with a sigh. Then he had an idea. “Wait here, darling.” He hurried back to their table and began to root through his bag.
“Who is that guy?” Roger demanded.
“None of your business, love,” Freddie said cheerfully. Aha, there it was! He grabbed the pen from the bottom of his bag and went back to Jim before any of them could grab him back into his seat. He could hear Roger calling his name but for once he ignored him.
“Freddie!” Oh great, even Deacy was calling after him.
“Protective bunch?” Jim asked as Freddie grabbed the nearest (thankfully dry) coaster and scribbled his phone number.
“You have no idea,” Freddie said. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “So before they inevitably ground me, here’s my number.”
Jim grinned as he tucked it into his pocket. “Can I borrow that pen?”
Confused, Freddie handed it to him- and grinned all the wider when Jim grabbed another coaster to write his own number.
“If they don’t confiscate your phone here’s
my
number.”
And then a hand wrapped around his bicep and Deacy was trying to tug him away, ignoring Brian’s scandalised, “Deacs, knock it off!
John Deacon!
”
In a moment of utter giddiness Freddie blew Jim a kiss as Deacy dragged him back to the table.
“Nuh-uh, nope, not today,” Deacy muttered.
“I’m killing you later,” Freddie informed him sweetly. “You as well, Rog. We are going to
talk
about this.”
“Told you so,” Brian muttered into his beer. He was ignored.
Roger and Deacy seemed completely unapologetic. And Freddie meant it, they
really
had to talk about this; they couldn’t baby him forever. They couldn’t drag him away every time someone flirted with him-
especially
when he actually
wanted
to flirt. It was Joe all over again.
They were just lucky he was too happy to beat them nine ways to Sunday for now. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jim with his own friends; their eyes locked and Jim grinned, flushing red again.
Yes, he was too happy to start a fight for now.
That wouldn’t stop him from waking them up at an obnoxious hour when they were hungover tomorrow.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1980
“We were built to fall apart then fall back together (back together).Ooh your necklace hanging from my neck, the night we couldn't quite forget, when we decided (we decided) to move the furniture so we could dance, baby, like we stood a chance. Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying and I remember thinking- Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?” -Out Of The Woods,
Taylor Swift
Freddie stood in front of Roger and Deacy, foot tapping impatiently. Brian sat to his right, looking rather the worse for wear, but also looking as stubborn as Freddie felt.
Like Freddie had promised himself he woke Roger and Deacy up at an obnoxious hour- one quick explanation was enough to have Veronica cheerfully dragging her husband from bed by the ear and Dom had answered Freddie’s greeting with a “What did Rog do now?” He let Brian sleep in- he hadn’t embarrassed Freddie after all- but the poor thing still looked like he wanted to throw up.
Roger and Deacy looked like shit. They finally seemed to have clued in to the fact that Freddie was genuinely annoyed.
“Look,” Freddie eventually sighed when the silence got to be too much. “I love you both dearly, you know that- but boys, I’m not made of glass. And believe it or not, I actually quite like Jim. I also liked Joe a
lot.
I...I know you don’t want me to get hurt, but I’m not as...as torn up as I used to be.”
“We know,” Deacy hastened to say. “We know that. We just…”
“Don’t want you to get hurt,” Roger finished. He looked slightly embarrassed. “We didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything, Fred.”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you
did,
” Freddie said. “You dragged me away like I was a child. And it wasn’t until after...Well, until after I told Joe what happened that you stopped glaring at the poor boy every time you met.”
Roger mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear.
“What was that, dear?”
“I said he proved he wouldn’t hurt you,” Roger said, slightly louder. He slouched in his seat, arms folded. “When you came into the hotel room that night- for a second I was sure he’d…” He swallowed, seemingly unable to say it.
So Freddie said it: “You thought he’d raped me.”
The other three winced, but Freddie stayed firm. It was funny; he thought he’d panic every time he even
thought
the word, but he felt...well, he didn’t feel
okay,
but he felt stubborn. Determined.
And Roger nodded. “Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I...Fuck, Freddie, I’m so scared someone’s going to do that again. Every time a guy looks at you I think
What if he’s like Prenter?
So yeah, I thought Joe had...had raped you, but when you told us everything...and then when he did everything he could to cheer you up and when he didn’t push it for the rest of the tour...I admitted I’d jumped to conclusions. He proved he wasn’t going to hurt you. So we could trust him to look after you, but…”
“But we don’t know Jim,” Deacy continued. He looked slightly shame-faced.
“Look, I’m with Freddie,” Brian said. “Sure, we don’t know Jim and that’s a little scary, but we can’t assume the worst of everyone- and we
certainly
can’t treat Freddie like he’s helpless.”
“Thanks, Brimi,” Freddie said with a smile. Deacy shifted uncomfortably. Roger sighed.
“...Maybe you were right,” Roger said, looking at the floor.
“About what, darling?”
“Maybe I need to talk to someone,” Roger admitted. “About what happened at the Farm.” He looked at Freddie and for a second he looked near tears. “Because you’re right, Fred, I feel like it’s my fault.”
“But it-”
“I left you alone that night,” Roger continued firmly. “I knew Prenter was trouble the second we met him, I knew for two years straight that he was fixated on you...And I still left you on your own. I promised to keep you safe and I
didn’t.
”
“Roggie, it wasn’t your fault,” Freddie said. He knelt in front of him, holding onto Roger’s arms. “Rog, look at me-
it wasn’t your fault.
”
“We could all make the same argument,” Brian chimed in. “We all knew Prenter was trouble and we
all
left Freddie alone.”
“And I’m the one who wandered off,” Freddie said and was immediately met with furious protests from the other three.
“That’s a load of bollocks!” Deacy said furiously. “It’s not your fault!”
“It’s not yours either,” Freddie said firmly. “Or yours Rog, or Bri’s. It was Paul’s fault. All of it.”
“I hate him,” Roger said for the millionth time.
“We all do,” Freddie said. “But Joe wasn’t like Paul and neither is Jim.”
“...Just promise to call me right away if he does anything you don’t like,” Roger said with a weak smile and Freddie flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“Just so long as you promise to call me after you talk to a councillor, darling, okay?”
“Deal.”
“That girl just there yes she's the one, with cupid's arrow in her bum. Handsome stranger you have made her happy, the first in a long time! Did you just whisper in her ear? Words she only dreamed to hear? Pretty lady, look at how he's smiling, I think he likes you! And it's too late. You believe in fate. You're absolutely smitten, you'll never let her go.” -Absolutely Smitten,
Dodie Clark
Jim couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous about a date. Maybe it was the fact that he was collecting Freddie from his
mansion,
or maybe it was the fact that he quite desperately wanted to impress the Omega, but he was so nervous that his hands were shaking. He was only glad that he wasn’t sweating.
Peter “Call me Phoebe” Freestone answered the door.
“He’s just getting ready,” he said with an easy-going smile. He was even taller than Jim, a broad, chubby Omega with a kind round face; he smelled like freshly baked bread and cookies. Sweet, homely smells that fit perfectly with his sweet demeanor. “I can pop the kettle on while you wait?” he offered. Jim didn’t quite trust himself to keep anything down, even a cup of tea, but it would at least give him something to do with his hands. He accepted gladly.
They were soon sitting in the living room, sipping their tea and chatting.
“You’re the one who did Theo’s hair, right?” Phoebe asked.
“That’s right.”
Phoebe’s smile widened. “Well, you work miracles, that boy hates haircuts. He said you had a good debate about the
Loony Tunes?
”
“My nephew’s obsessed with them too,” Jim said with a grin. “I had to watch some episodes to keep up with what he was saying.” There were photos of Theo and Freddie on the mantle; baby Theo, toddler Theo, Theo on his first day of school (if Jim was to guess- the uniform and proud smile on the little boy’s face gave it away). There were photos of Freddie’s bandmates and who he assumed were his family members; they had the same black hair and tanned skin and the woman and younger girl shared his deep brown eyes. He couldn’t see photos of anyone (other than Freddie and his family) who bore a resemblance to Theo. If he remembered correctly one of his bandmates had fathered the child, but looking at them he couldn’t even begin to guess which one.
“Uncle Pheebs?” a little voice piped up. Theo Mercury stood in the doorway; already in his pyjamas and bare foot he peered at Jim curiously. “Hey, you did my hair!” he said with a delighted smile.
“That I did,” Jim agreed. “Good to see you, Theo.”
“So, you’re takin’ Papa out, right?”
“That’s right,” Jim said. And then, slightly hesitant he asked, “Is that okay?”
“Guess so,” Theo shrugged. Phoebe was just beginning to smile when Theo added, “Don’t hurt him. The bad man already did and I don’t wanna fight you too.”
“Sorry?” Jim asked. He looked to Phoebe, confused, but Phoebe was already scooping Theo up with a nervous laugh.
“Come on, you, it’s bedtime. Sorry, Jim, I’ll be right back...” He carried Theo from the room; Jim could hear Theo say, “But I
would
fight him!” before they were out of earshot.
And he was left wondering just what Theo was talking about. The bad man? What bad man? Did someone hurt Freddie? Christ, had some old boyfriend
hit
him?
He didn’t have time to wonder any further, because suddenly Freddie was there and saying, “Sorry I took so long, darling, I had to help put Theo down- are you okay?”
For a moment, Jim couldn’t speak; Freddie looked utterly gorgeous in a silken red button up and tight black pants, hair ever-so-slightly ruffled (
just getting in need of a trim,
the work part of his brain supplied) and his dark skin downright glowed golden in the lamplight. Jim looked into those dark brown eyes and was utterly lost. He’d never understood the phrase
“you could drown in those eyes”
until now.
Freddie wasn’t his usual type. Not at all. But something about him left Jim breathless.
“You’re...You’re gorgeous,” he managed to say and delighted in Freddie’s laughter.
“Shut up,” Freddie said. He happily took Jim’s arm. “So, where to?”
“How do you feel about Chinese food?” Jim asked. Freddie beamed up at him as Phoebe came in with his coat.
“Perfect.”
“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate). Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate. Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?” -Delicate,
Taylor Swift
The more they talked the more Jim was delighted; Freddie was funny and flamboyant, yet surprisingly shy. There was something so terribly sweet about him, something almost childishly innocent.
It’s the first date,
he had to remind himself again and again.
Don’t get so carried away.
And yet he couldn’t stop smiling at everything Freddie said and did; his little hand gestures, the way he kept ducking his head when he grinned, his chiming laugh, the way he tilted his head like a curious bird, nodding along when Jim spoke. He asked questions about Ireland and hairdressing and seemed genuinely interested in the answers. When Jim said he had nine siblings Freddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“Goodness, and my mama complained she had her hands full with Kash and me!” he said.
Throughout the meal Jim noticed how many people were looking at Freddie. He wondered if they were all
Queen
fans. He wondered if any of them were as oblivious as Jim had been; he wondered who just couldn’t help but stare, just like Jim. He wasn’t a typical Alpha in numerous ways, but he had to admit there was something a little thrilling about being with the man everyone stared at, the one everyone else wanted too.
Don’t be daft,
he reminded himself again, but then Freddie smiled shyly and sweetly and all common sense flew out the window again.
Jim couldn’t drive and neither could Freddie, so the initial plan had been to get a taxi; in the end, they ended up walking most of the way back to Garden Lodge, engrossed in conversation. Blushing furiously, Jim took Freddie’s hand. The Omega just walked along happily, not the least bit phased, but Jim was honestly surprised at himself. Hand holding wasn’t typical of him either; long conversations weren’t his usual too. It was something his last few boyfriends had despaired over- Jim was just...well, a little awkward if he was honest with himself. He never felt
comfortable
enough to just go with the flow, to ignore the stares of the crowd and do what he wanted. He usually felt too shy to even try.
Something about Freddie made him feel braver.
They’d gotten onto the topic of Theo, Freddie laughing about how wriggly Theo had been as a baby, when Jim asked about the day he was born. Freddie winced. “Oh...Goodness, it certainly was dramatic,” he said. “Well...To be frank, darling, they nearly lost us both.”
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry,” Jim said quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t upset me,” Freddie said with a patient smile. “And you couldn’t have known, could you?”
“Still…” He shrugged, feeling horribly awkward all over again.
“It’s fine, Jim, honestly.” Freddie squeezed his hand. “I don’t remember much of it anyway. When I woke up I was more worried about Theo.” He scowled at the ground. “I had to wait a whole day before they let me see him.”
“That must have been awful,” Jim said and he meant it. He couldn’t imagine having a baby and not being allowed to see them, having to worry about their health alone...
“Well, at least you had Theo’s dad to help, right?”
Freddie stopped walking. He looked up at Jim, face gone totally blank.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t have wanted him anyway. But I had the boys and Mary and my family, so it was fine.”
Jim bit his lip, wondering if he dared to ask. It was only their first date, he was surely pushing it, but curiosity and concern got the better of him.
“Um, Freddie?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I just...I understand if this is totally out of line, but...but Theo said some...some ‘bad man’ hurt you…”
Freddie sighed, pulling his coat tighter about him. He sat on the low wall overlooking the river. After a moment’s hesitation Jim joined him. Freddie looked up at the sky, biting his lip.
“I should have known he was still worried,” he whispered, mostly to himself or so it seemed to Jim. Then, clearly addressing Jim; “Yes, someone hurt me. But I...I’m not ready to talk about it just yet.” He glanced at Jim and smirked. “That’s more of a fourth date thing.”
Jim wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. He felt like a total idiot. What had he been
thinking?
Had he seriously just asked about an abusive ex when they’d just met?
“Freddie, I didn’t- I mean, I don’t- I don’t mean to pry or-” He shut up when Freddie pressed a finger to his lips, smiling. He could feel himself going red again.
“It’s alright,” Freddie said quietly. “Oh, Jim, don’t look so worried. It’s
alright,
I promise.”
Jim nodded, still uncertain. Freddie pulled away. His smile was sadder. Jim still thought he was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.
“So...Shall we keep walking?” Jim asked. Freddie looked at him, head tilted.
“Maybe not just yet.”
And Freddie kissed him. Jim’s hands automatically went to the Omega’s tiny waist, pulling him closer as Freddie’s arms wound around his neck.
When they eventually pulled back, Jim looked into Freddie’s eyes and his brain short-circuited. He blurted out the first thing he thought; “You’re tiny.”
Freddie laughed at him, squeezing Jim’s hands, which were still on his waist. He could nearly wrap his hands the whole way around.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Freddie asked, still smirking in amusement.
“Good thing,” Jim said. And if his voice was a little breathless, so what? He couldn’t find it in himself to care for once.
“Good to know,” Freddie said and pulled Jim down to kiss him again.
When they eventually found a taxi, Jim took Freddie’s hand before he could climb out.
“So, um...Second date?” he asked.
Freddie grinned, not hiding it for the first time that night.
“Second date,” he agreed. “I’ll call you.” He pecked Jim on the cheek and climbed out of the taxi. He unlocked the metal gates and with one last wave he slid inside and was gone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Bring me out. Come and find me in the dark now, everyday by myself I'm breaking down. I don't wanna fight alone anymore. Bring me out from the prison of my own pride, my God I need a hope I can't deny. In the end I'm realizing I was never meant to fight on my own.” -On My Own, Ashes Remain Roger was more nervous about meeting Jim than he cared to admit. He was doing his level best to suppress the instinct of threat, protect, attack, but he’d been on the offensive for so long that calming down felt almost impossible. But he was working on it. Therapy had helped. Little by little, it was helping. He wondered if this was how Freddie had felt when he first went; helpless, angry, impatient to just feel better. He still felt paranoid; a rather large part of him still expected Jim to be like Prenter. Part of him still expected to find Freddie in tears, traumatised all over again. Oh, who was he kidding? He knew this was how Freddie had felt, he’d said so. But if Freddie could do better so could Roger. If Freddie could reach out and trust again, so could Roger. (He hoped). It had taken a whole month but the Queen boys were finally meeting Jim Hutton. It wasn’t anything fancy, they were just hanging out at a pub, but Roger was still torn between attack and defend. Freddie wasn’t his Omega, he never had been, but he was still Roger’s; he was still pack, still family. He was theirs. Trusting him to someone else was hard. He knew the others, even Brian, felt the same. Deacy didn’t exactly hide it and Brian was currently biting at his nails. “You nervous too?” Roger asked. “Yes,” Brian said. “Trying not to be, but...I mean, at least we’d already met Joe when they started going out. We haven’t met Jim yet.” “I know what you mean.” Roger went back to frowning at his pint. That really was the gist of it; sure he’d hated Joe on principle for ages, but at least he’d known the guy. Jim? They only had Freddie’s stories to go off. Though the fact that Jim brought his freesias on their second date was cute, he had to admit. And it was reassuring that Theo didn’t hate him on sight. But still. They were dealing with a relative unknown here and he didn’t like it. When Deacy arrived he didn’t look much better than Roger felt; he looked tense and more than a little awkward. Wary, that was it. “...I hope he’s nice,” Deacy admitted in a hushed voice after a few minutes. “I really do.” Speak of the devil; Freddie came prancing in, leading Jim Hutton by the hand. He was nearly as tall as Brian and he was blushing terribly, looking all about him like he expected someone to point and laugh. No one gave them a second glance and they joined Roger and the boys, Freddie smiling, Jim blushing even harder, squirming uncomfortably. Well, Roger couldn’t blame him. Deacy looked blank as a mask, Brian peered at him like he was a new specimen of frog or something and Roger...Well, he had no idea what he looked like, but he was fighting back a snarl with all his strength. “So, Jim darling this is Roger, Brian and John- or Deacy as we call him.” Freddie’s smile was a little strained, picking up on the tense atmosphere. “Well then...talk away boys.” For a moment no one spoke. Roger was doing his best to keep from glaring (Threat? Possible threat, Freddie’s right there, easy to grab him away, protect, PROTECT), and Deacy glanced between them all, clearly hoping someone else would speak first. It was down to poor Brian as per usual. “So...Freddie says you like gardening?” Brian asked. It was awkward but at least it was something. And it broke the ice; Jim’s eyes lit up and suddenly he was babbling away. Freddie watched him with a smile so fond it hurt. Okay, Roger told himself. Calm down. He’s nice, you can see he’s nice. Freddie looked at him and smiled, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Are you okay? Roger gave a minute shrug. Sort of okay. Trying to be. If he had to meet Jim one on one he was sure he wouldn’t manage to be calm. He’d more than likely intimidate the guy or even outright threaten him. Even now he wanted to bundle Freddie in a blanket and pull him away from the Irish Alpha. But thankfully Roger wasn’t on his own; he had his boys with him. Deacy and Jim were now talking a mile a minute and laughing like they’d know each other for years (which was infinitely reassuring). Brian was clearly more relaxed, no longer sitting so tensely, sipping at his drink and smiling. And Freddie...Well, his eyes lit up when he looked at Jim. And Jim looked at him like he hung the moon, the sun and the stars. Good, Roger thought. He could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Slowly, he started to smile. Good. You keep looking at him like that. That’s how he deserves to be looked at. “'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars, with their Range Rovers and their Jaguars, never took me quite where you do. And all at once you are the one I have been waiting for. King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa. And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go. King of my heart, body and soul.” -King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift The first time Freddie stayed the night at Jim’s had a certain awkwardness to it. They’d both agreed it would be better for Freddie to stay over first, before trying to get Theo used to the idea that Jim would sometimes be staying over at Garden Lodge and Freddie knew it had been the more sensible decision, but he had to admit he’d feel more comfortable at home. But he supposed that was how everyone felt. Certainly, had they been at Garden Lodge then Jim would likely be wishing he was home. Not that Freddie was regretting this, he was just so unused to all this. With Joe they’d been in hotels and motels the whole time, but this was Jim’s flat. He was just glad Jim’s landlady hadn’t been home when they arrived, he didn’t much fancy dealing with any nosy questions tonight. It had been little over a month now. He shrugged on his pyjama top quickly, not exactly eager to show off his surgery scar to Jim just yet and curled up in the bed. A moment later Jim joined him, automatically wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist. Freddie was half on top of him; he was more comfortable than he’d necessarily expected himself to be. Was he underestimating himself or overestimating himself? Because when Jim’s hand crept up his shirt, Freddie shied away, hiding his face in Jim’s chest. “I’m tired, darling,” he lied. “Sorry,” Jim said, sheepish. He went to pull his hand away entirely, but Freddie stopped him, keeping it on his hip. “It’s fine,” Freddie said- and it was. This was at least. He just...Well, he wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go. The last thing he wanted was to have a total break down like he had with Joe. And that was another thing to worry about: he’d told Joe everything two weeks into dating, but that was because Freddie had pushed himself and panicked and had to explain. He knew better this time around. He wasn’t going to push himself past his limits, but he didn’t exactly turn cartwheels at the idea of telling Jim why he shied away so often. He didn’t want to explain about Paul. He hated talking about it, he hated thinking about it. A paranoid part of him thought that the more people who knew the more likely it was that Theo would find out. Freddie would do anything, absolutely anything to keep that from happening. It was frustrating. He wanted to have sex yet he was too afraid to. He was doing better than he ever was, yet he often wanted to curl up in a little ball and keep his legs firmly closed. Would Jim hate him when Freddie told him? No, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t. But would he hate Theo? If he did then that would be that. Freddie couldn’t be with someone who hated his son. Tomorrow, he thought, holding onto Jim tighter, even tangling their legs together. I’ll try tell him tomorrow. The next morning Freddie couldn’t sit still. Was it still too early to tell Jim everything? It had been little over a month since they’d started dating but was that still too soon? Would Jim be angry Freddie didn’t say something sooner? Jim noticed his unrest and lifted Freddie with ease, settling him on the kitchen counter. “What’s going in that head of yours, honey?” he asked. For whatever reason he seemed to enjoy lifting Freddie up; he always smiled when he did. “...I have something to tell you,” Freddie said. Both hands cupped Jim’s face. Please don’t dump me. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate Theo. “It’s...It’s about...About Theo’s father.” Jim’s hands went to Freddie’s hair, slowly stroking down his head, neck and shoulders, settling on his waist. “Yeah? What about him?” “He’s the one who hurt me,” Freddie said. “You probably figured that out already, but...But I haven’t told you what he did.” “Did he hit you?” Jim asked, frowning. “A bit,” Freddie said, which was true- Paul had hit him. “He was more concerned with...with raping me.” There, he’d said it. It was out now. He forced himself to keep looking at Jim, to keep making eye contact. He watched as Jim’s face just crumpled. He didn’t look angry. He looked near tears. “Oh Christ, Freddie, I’m so sorry,” he breathed. And instantly he held Freddie close, burying his face in Freddie’s hair, all but nuzzling it, mixing their scents just enough that people would know to back off, that Freddie had spent the night with an Alpha. “His name was Paul Prenter,” Freddie said, voice muffled by Jim’s shirt. “He worked for us. He...He had a thing for me almost from the moment we met. Roger and I pretended to date to keep him away from me, but...But he never really believed us. He cornered me when we were recording A Night At The Opera. I’d rather not go into the details, but...It was bad. There was a big trial, you might have read about it at the time.” “...The trial against an Alpha who raped an anonymous Omega in ‘75,” Jim said. His voice shook. “ Fuck, I...I did read about that. I remember- my friend Steven, he punched a guy for saying you couldn’t rape an Omega.” “Your friend Steven sounds very smart,” Freddie said with forced cheer. The joke fell flat by a mile. Jim’s grip on him tightened. He steeled himself for what came next. “I...Look, darling, I understand if this is too much- if you want to-” “Don’t even say it,” Jim cut across him sharply. He pulled back, hands tight on Freddie’s waist. “I’m not dumping you over this. I’m not dumping you at all. ” The relief nearly suffocated him. Without a word he pulled Jim down and kissed him with all the strength he could muster. When they finally pulled away, Jim was smiling. “You’re amazing, you know that?” And Freddie, with some of the cockiness for which he was known, with the cheeky smirk known world-wide replied with, “Of course I am, darling. I’m Freddie fucking Mercury.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
December 30th 1980, Garden Lodge
“There’s a hope that’s waiting for you in the dark. You should know you're beautiful just the way you are. And you don't have to change a thing, the world could change its heart. No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful.” -Scars To Your Beautiful,
Alessia Cara
Freddie was shivering under him, Jim noticed it right away.
“Are you okay, love?” he asked. He’d just taken the last of Freddie’s clothing off and his boyfriend instantly started to shiver, pressing his lips together.
“I’m fine,” Freddie said, though his voice wavered.
“Honey, if you need to stop…”
“I’m
fine,
just...just give me a second.”
So he waited, gently running a hand up and down Freddie’s waist. He wasn’t sure how far they were going to go. He was surprised they’d gotten this far, but it had actually been
Freddie
who started it; for once he even flipped them over so he was lying under Jim rather than on top of him- which rather gave Jim an idea.
“Would it help if we switched?” he asked. Freddie hesitated but nodded. So Jim flipped them, grinning when Freddie let out a startled laugh. The Omega’s small hands rested on Jim’s chest; he was biting his lip and blushing madly, avoiding eye contact.
“I...I have no idea what to do, darling,” Freddie admitted with a slightly hysterical giggle. Grinning, Jim leaned up to kiss him.
“Do whatever you want,” he said, tucking a strand of Freddie’s hair behind his ear. He raised an eyebrow, looking his boyfriend up and down. “I’m rather enjoying the view.”
“Oh shut up.”
He didn’t know if Freddie believed him, but he
was
happy to go along with whatever Freddie felt comfortable with. Even if they stopped here, it was fine. (He really
did
enjoy the view, he’d never seen Freddie naked before, though Freddie had seen him.) Freddie’s blush had died down; he’d stopped shivering. Slowly, he relaxed; he even managed a smirk.
“I have an idea,” Freddie said. “Just...Look, I haven’t done anything like this in over five years so just...Just tell me if I’m awful, okay?”
“What’re you-?”
He was cut off when Freddie kissed him. He reached up to grip Freddie’s hips, but Freddie wriggled out of his grasp, kissing down his neck and chest and stomach and-
oh.
“Oh!” Jim’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Okay,” he breathed. “I like this idea.”
Freddie had discovered something; it wasn’t so scary when he was lying on top of Jim, or sitting in his lap. He was starting to wonder just how much his fear of being pinned like that again had factored into things. Brooding wouldn’t help, but...It was a
development.
He felt almost stupidly happy.
So, he’d given Jim a blowjob. He didn’t panic. For the first time since 1975 he managed to get further than kissing without panicking or having flashbacks. He kept expecting to have an anxiety attack. He kept waiting for the wave of disgust to hit, he expected the tears to start.
Nothing happened. He lay there, legs tangled with Jim’s, lying half on top of him and watching the room slowly light up as the sun rose. It was just reaching nine o’clock, unusually early for Freddie. He didn’t have to be in the studio until after New Year’s, he’d usually be sleeping in but his mind was buzzing (in a good way for once). It may have sounded daft to say he was proud of himself but he was, so
fuck it.
Not that he’d be telling the boys that, thank you very much. Some things he could keep to himself.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by Jim waking up; his boyfriend yawned, his grip on Freddie tightening momentarily, he blinked rapidly before he looked down at Freddie and smiled.
“Hey you,” Jim said, voice hoarse from sleep. His thumb ran over Freddie’s cheekbone, the other ran in gentle circles on Freddie’s hip. “You okay?”
“I’m alright,” Freddie said; Jim looked a mix between relieved and surprised, causing Freddie’s smile to widen. “I mean it, darling, I’m okay. Really.”
“Good.” Jim’s eyes roved over him; he couldn’t see much with the covers in the way, but his eyes softened. “You’re gorgeous.”
Freddie’s immediate gut instinct was to tell him to shut up or fuck off; part of his brain screamed
Liar!
He pushed it down. Jim hadn’t lied to him so far. He thought of his scar, he thought of the stretch marks still visible on his thighs, he thought of his teeth, his height and how his ass was (as far as he was concerned) still too fat. And he ignored it all. He looked up at Jim and
believed
him.
“Thank you.”
“You know…” Jim’s hand reached down, albeit cautiously, to rest on his ass. “I never did return the favour last night.”
Freddie could
feel
his face flushing again as Jim’s hand started to
knead.
He pressed closer, eyes closing.
“Do you want to stop?” Jim asked. There was a split second pause before Freddie shook his head.
“No,” he said, a gasp escaping as Jim flipped them over.
“Tell me if you need to stop,” Jim said, pushing Freddie’s hair off his face.
“I will,” Freddie promised, closing his eyes again and letting himself relax.
January 4th, 1981
Brian noticed the smell as soon as Freddie walked in. He smelled like his usual flowers and spices, but mixed with that (and mixed
heavily
) was smoke and grass. He smelled like
Jim.
Deacy nearly dropped his bass. Even Miami appeared stunned.
“Well good for you,” Crystal said, leaning against the wall and sipping his coffee. “At least one of us had a fun New Year’s- I don’t remember half of it.”
“We didn’t- I mean, um…” Poor Fred kept his eyes firmly on the floor. “I’m not getting into this,” he said briskly. “Where’s Rog?”
“Late. And you’re early, we must be in a parallel world,” Brian said. His eyes lingered on the mark on Freddie’s neck. “You’re alright?”
“I’m alright, Brimi.”
“He didn’t hurt you?” Deacy asked.
“No, he didn’t, I- oh for pity’s sake, wipe those looks off your faces, we
didn’t
have sex!”
“Because
that’s
what I wanna hear first thing in the morning,” came Roger’s drawling tone. He stood in the doorway, arms folded. Brian could practically see the wheels in his brain turning, could practically feel the internal battle he was having with himself. But finally his expression softened and he pulled Freddie into a quick hug.
“You’re okay?” he asked. “You’re
sure
you’re okay?”
“I’m
fine,
” Freddie insisted. He looked around at them all and huffed. “And no,
no details.
”
“Spoil my fun why don’t you,” Crystal said.
All of them, even Miami replied, “Oh, fuck off Chris.”
Despite the shock, Brian felt relaxed. Oddly proud. It may have sounded daft or even outright weird- who’d be proud of their friend for...well, whatever Freddie and Jim had gotten up to? But he was. It was such a massive step. Even Roger, over-protective as he was, hadn’t exploded or over-reacted.
Progress, Brian thought with a smile. They were all making progress.
January 7th, 1981
“Makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder. It makes me that much wiser so thanks for making me a fighter. Made me learn a little bit faster, made my skin a little bit thicker, makes me that much smarter. So thanks for making me a fighter.” -Fighter,
Darren Criss (cover)
Jim was clearly head over heels for Freddie and it made Mary positively
giddy.
She was constantly biting down on the urge to tell Freddie how happy she was for him. This was
brilliant
and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Wanted to go find Prenter in prison and shout “You lose!” in his face, because he
didn’t
win, he didn’t get what he wanted, he hadn’t broken her Freddie.
He was bruised, he was bloody, he’d been knocked down but he got back up. He was a fighter. He was a survivor.
And speaking of fighters…
“How do you like Jim, Theo?” she asked. She was visiting Garden Lodge for the day; Freddie had just left to answer a call from Miami, Phoebe was cooking lunch and she wanted to know what Theo was honestly feeling.
“He’s fun,” Theo said to Mary’s relief. “He likes
Looney Tunes
too and he said I have the best playroom he’s
ever
seen.”
“Oh you certainly do,” Mary smiled. “So...You get along okay?”
Theo nodded. “He’s nice,” he said. “And he makes Papa smile a lot.”
“He does.”
“He won’t hurt Papa, right?”
Her heart cracked, but she stayed smiling. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think he will.”
“Good.” Theo looked back at the telly. “I told Papa I’ll fight Jim
and
the bad man.”
She sighed and said, “You don’t have to fight
anyone,
Theo.”
Theo scowled, eyes darkening, practically
bristling.
“No one’s allowed hurt Papa,” he insisted. “He’s
Papa.
”
“He’s pretty great,” she agreed, partially to make Theo smile and partially because she agreed. But all the same she’d have to take Freddie aside and talk to him about this. Surely a five year old (though he was nearly six now and goodness how was he so old so quickly?) shouldn’t be so angry? She knew he’d been more protective ever since he found out he wasn’t Roger’s, but still...It worried her to see her godson so upset, so hostile.
Freddie was just wondering exactly
how
to talk to Theo, how to find out exactly why Theo was feeling so angry (was it Paul’s fault? Jim’s fault?
Freddie’s
fault?) when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Fred, guess who’s in London?”
Wait a second, was that-?
“Joe!?”
“Well you
did
tell me to ring if I was ever in London,” Joe laughed.
“Yes I did, I just didn’t expect- dear, what are you
doing
here?”
“Moved,” Joe said and Freddie could practically
hear
him shrugging, the blasé bastard. “Got a new job. This new restaurant just opened, my pal Terry’s running it, he needed some staff- you remember him, right? Moved over here last year. So here I am.”
“Well
bloody hell,
” Freddie laughed. “Good for you. Where abouts are you living?”
“Just by Kensington, so I was wondering- well, you wanna meet up?”
“Of course!” Freddie’s smile grew as he added, “You can finally interrogate Jim in person.”
You can interrogate Jim and it seems I’ve got to question Theo too.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Little things, all the stereotypes they're gonna help you get through this one night, and there will be a day when you can say you're okay and mean it. I promise you it'll all make sense again.” -Secret For The Mad,
Dodie Clark
In the end, Freddie decided to make a day of it, just him and Theo. He felt like they hardly spent one-on-one time together anymore- which he knew was ridiculous, logically. Out of everyone in Theo’s life Freddie spent the most time with him. There was a time when Freddie was too anxious to let Theo out of his sight. The first time he’d left his mother in charge he drove everyone mad, calling her every twenty minutes to check in.
So the logical part of him
knew
he spent a lot of time with Theo...It just seemed like there was always someone else around when he did. And Theo was hurting. That just wouldn’t do.
They spent a whole day out in London, indulging Theo’s every whim; they went to the cinema, to Hamleys (Theo got a new Winnie The Pooh toy), went around Hyde Park and grabbed ice cream despite the chill of the day. As the day went on Theo seemed more and more animated, on his best behaviour; he held Freddie’s hand as they crossed the street, took a puff of his inhaler whenever he needed without Freddie having to nag him, he thanked the lady who served them the ice cream...But he still stood incredibly close to Freddie, never rushing ahead the way he used to. If he caught anyone staring at Freddie he immediately grabbed his hand.
Yeah, Freddie had to get to the bottom of this. His son was only
five
(six next month though, oh God), he shouldn’t be so angry. He shouldn’t feel so protective, surely?
It was times like this that he saw what Brian meant when he said Theo reminded him of Roger.
It made him wish he could say “Oh, that’s just Theo, he’s just like Roger,” but that was a lie. Theo had always had a temper but he’d never been so
brooding
before. Not like this. And he’d always been clingy but not like this and he’d never been so suspicious of everyone.
He waited until they were sitting on a park bench, watching the swans and ducks to bring it up.
“Theo, darling, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Freddie asked. Theo looked up at him, hazel eyes big and bright.
“Duh, Papa.”
“Then you know you can tell me what has you so upset lately, don’t you?”
The pause was a little too long before Theo slumped in his seat and mumbled, “‘M not upset…” into his scarf.
“I’m not daft, Theo, something’s bothering you.” He wrapped an arm around the child, pulling him closer. “Come on, what is it? I won’t be upset, I promise.”
“Pinky promise?” Theo asked, holding his pinky out. And just like he had a thousand times before, Freddie linked their fingers and shook them up and down.
“Pinky promise,” he swore.
Theo didn’t answer right away. He kicked at the gravel, staring out at the water before he slumped against Freddie, leaning his head on his chest the way he’d done right from babyhood. Eventually he said, “You got hurt and it’s not
fair.
You’re my
Papa,
you’re the best, so...So why did my daddy hurt you?”
He’d been torn between
I bet this is Paul’s fault
and
What if he doesn’t like me dating?
And here it was; it was Paul’s fault. It always seemed to be Paul’s fault. Freddie
hated
him, he hated that bastard so much. If he ever saw him again he wouldn’t freeze, he wouldn’t run; he’d wring his neck for doing this to Theo.
Theo came first. Fuck fear. His baby needed him.
“...I don’t really know why,” Freddie said, running a hand through Theo’s hair as he spoke. “He just...Wasn’t a nice person, Theo. Sometimes people do bad things because they think they’ll get away with it. They think it’s okay to hurt people. But it’s not. It’s not
ever
okay to hurt someone.”
What could he say?
He raped me because he was obsessed with me; he was an entitled, selfish bastard who deserves to burn in hell.
No. He couldn’t tell the truth. He hated lying to Theo, he hated how much of it he had to do, but he had to keep Theo
safe.
And yet it seemed that for all the precautions he’d taken, for all the stories he told, Theo was still getting hurt. It wasn’t
fair,
Paul was gone gone gone
gone,
he was locked up. He shouldn’t be allowed to affect Theo. But what he had done still affected Freddie and in turn it got to Theo.
Freddie would rather die than let Theo get hurt.
“Jim’s nice, right?” Theo asked.
“He is, darling.”
“...He won’t hurt you?”
“No, he won’t.” And Freddie meant it; he was sure Jim wouldn’t.
“Oh.” Theo was quiet for a moment, pressing up against Freddie’s hand like a little cat. Then he added, “Okay, you can keep dating him.”
Freddie couldn’t help but grin. “Oh
may
I?”
“Uh-huh. I like him, he’s fun.”
“Good, I’m glad.” He kept running his hand through Theo’s hair. “Any more questions, darling?”
“You
promise
he’s not coming back? My daddy.”
“Not ever.”
“Good.”
Theo glanced up at him again, eyes glinting furiously for a moment before he settled again. “Papa?”
“Yes?”
“Love you.”
His grip tightened slightly, he leaned down to kiss the top of Theo’s head. “I love you too, Theo.”
“You know you make my world light up. When I was down, when I was hurt you came to lift me up. Life is a drink and love's a drug. Oh, now I think I must be miles up. When I was a river dried up you came to rain a flood.” -Hymn For The Weekend,
Coldplay
True to form, Joe didn’t settle for hugging him: he lifted him right up and spun him around, ignoring Freddie’s shout of, “Put me
down
you bastard!”
“I swear you got shorter,” Joe said, grinning at him when he finally put Freddie down. He instantly turned to Jim, looking him up and down. “You must be Jim, hm?”
“That’s me,” Jim said. His smile was slightly awkward as he held his hand out.
“Joe Fanelli.” They shook hands- to Freddie’s eyes they seemed to be sizing each other up. But then Joe’s grin widened and he said, “Mind telling me how you convinced Roger to not kill you? I’m pretty sure he still hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Freddie said tiredly.
“That’s just what he wants you to think, Fred.”
Any other Alpha would have let their instincts rule them and would have hated Joe on sight. But Jim wasn’t any other Alpha, which was why Freddie liked him so much. Soon enough he and Joe were chatting amicably, laughing over Roger’s threats to them both.
That was one less thing to worry about. Theo was (mostly) sorted and Jim and Joe actually seemed to
like
each other, thank God.
“I’ll be right back, just want to call Phoebe,” Freddie said. The bar had a phone by the bathrooms; not the most ideal of locations, but at least there
was
a phone.
“Phoebe? Darling, it’s me, how’s it going back home?”
“Theo’s nearly finished his homework and the cats are all fed. So, do they hate each other?”
“No, they actually seem to be getting along,” Freddie said with relief. He heard Phoebe exhale heavily; seemed they were both worried.
“Good,” Phoebe said. “I know Jim’s not like most Alphas but...Honestly, I was still worried it’d turn into a pissing contest at best, a brawl at worst.”
“Me too,” Freddie admitted. When he glanced over his shoulder they were both still talking and smiling. Not an act to keep him happy then. “But it’s going well. I’ll be back by seven, okay?”
As he made his way back to their table he heard Joe say, “You’re looking after him, right?”
Freddie paused and if he listened in so what?
“I am,” Jim said. He smiled ruefully. “Doing my best anyway.”
“He seems a lot happier,” Joe said. “Way more relaxed.” He raised his pint to Jim with a smirk. “So kudos, buddy. Don’t know how you did it.”
“I didn’t- Freddie did it himself.”
“Fucker’s stronger than he looks,” Joe laughed.
You’re an absolute love,
Freddie thought with a fond smile. He’d had enough of eavesdropping; he marched back over and fell back into his seat, resting his head against Jim’s shoulder. Joe looked nearly as goo-goo eyed as Phoebe when he saw it.
“You look like you’re doing better,” he said.
Freddie smiled. “I am.”
After tucking Theo into bed that night Freddie ran for the music room. He had a song idea that couldn’t wait.
“I'm bulletproof nothing to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium. You shoot me down but I won't fall. I am titanium, I am titanium.” -Titanium,
Madilyn Bailey (cover)
“What you got there?” Deacy asked as Freddie continued his frantic scribbles at the studio the next day.
“Song idea.”
“Are you gonna show us any time soon?”
“Not really, dear.”
“Well last time he got like this he wrote
The Show Must Go On,
” Roger said with a shrug. “Leave him be.”
Freddie just wanted to get this done by Theo’s birthday. He knew what he was like when he got in a writing frenzy and he absolutely
refused
to be distracted on Theo’s birthday.
He wrote rapidly in the studio but didn’t give the boys an idea of what the song sounded like. Right now he was torn; it could be fast but it also sounded good slow.
“You shoot me down,”
he sang at home.
“But I won’t fall. I am-”
“Papa?” Theo was poking his head around the door, Oscar at his heels. “What’cha writing?”
“New song, darling.” He beckoned him over. “Want to listen?”
Theo’s eyes lit up; in a flash he was across the room, jumping onto the piano bench.
“Maybe you can help me with something,” Freddie said, tucking Theo’s unruly hair back. “I can’t decide if this should be fast or slow. So, how about you listen and tell me which you think is best?”
“Okay!”
So Freddie played, Theo humming along beside him. He played the song twice in both forms. By the end Theo was biting his lip, head tilted as if the song was still going.
“I like ‘em
both,
” he said. “Can you do both?”
“You mean start slow and speed up, darling?”
“No, I mean
both!
Write it fast
and
slow. You can have the fast one at the start of the album and- and the slow one at the
end.
You know, like a...uh...I forget what it’s called...Uncle Deacy said you do ‘em at shows. En...En-somethin’...”
“Encore…” Freddie said, voice more of a murmur. He tapped a few keys, considering the suggestion. If he wrote an ‘encore’ version he’d have to make that one shorter than the original but...maybe…
He started to grin.
“I think you’re onto something, Theo,” he said. Theo positively
glowed.
“Can you add drums?”
“You’re starting to sound like Brian with his guitar solos, you know that, darling?”
Theo
was
onto something however; when Freddie repeated his suggestion to the boys they loved it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
February 9th, 1981
“And we're not bruised, they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret. Black lipstick will never be a sin, we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin. Regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin.” -Party Tattoos,
Dodie Clark
It was time for Theo’s birthday party; it was being held at Garden Lodge, partially to keep the press at bay. That didn’t stop the fuckers from crowding the street outside the house, taking a million and one photos as each guest arrived.
“Don’t they have anything better to do?” Dominique huffed, blatantly glaring as one man chased their car to snap their picture.
“Nope,” Roger said. Felix, too young to truly understand how invasive the press were, cheerfully waved and said, “Daddy, look at the cameras!” Truthfully Roger wanted to roll the window down and snap at the bastards to not take photos of his son. But today of all days the fight and scandal just wasn’t worth it.
They safely made it past the gates, leaving the press behind outside. There were no decorations in the front garden, bar the balloons outside the front door, though Roger knew the back garden would be decorated. As for inside…
Yep, just as he thought; there were streamers and balloons everywhere, all in Theo’s favourite colours. There was a huge buffet table of snacks (the birthday cake, made by Joe, was safely hidden in the fridge); there were too many crisps, chocolates and jellies to count. The pile of presents in the living room was already huge. Roger smirked to himself; he couldn’t actually
bring
his present- yet. That wasn’t to say he was empty handed: he and Dom bought Theo a box set of
Disney
videos (namely Mickey Mouse and Winnie The Pooh), as well as some Superman toys, plus a Superman T-shirt. Felix, of course, would claim credit for that last one.
“UNCLE ROGGIE!”
came Theo’s high-pitched shriek. The boy in question ran at him, full speed and Roger stooped to catch him, laughing.
“There’s my little man!” Not so little anymore though, he was getting so
tall.
He was a skinny little scrap, all bony elbows and knobby knees. His cowlicks were as stubborn as ever, his hair was already ruffled; his cheeks were flushed with excitement, hazel eyes bright; his smile was almost painfully like Freddie’s.
“Wait until you see what I got you,” Roger smirked as he set Theo back down.
“What!?”
“Nuh-uh, you’ll have to wait.” Dom was smirking, clearly struggling not to laugh as they both imagined the look on Theo’s (and Freddie’s) face when Roger’s present was revealed.
Before Theo could protest or quiz him further Robert came running; his party hat was falling off, though he didn’t seem to notice. “Come
on,
Max and Lucas are still hiding!” he exclaimed and quickly dragged Theo away. Well that explained why it was surprisingly quiet; hide and seek did wonders for shutting kids up.
“How many kids did Theo invite again?” Dominique asked.
“His
whole class,
” Freddie said, popping his head around the corner. “So that’s twenty-one not including Theo- plus Deacy’s three, Felix and Jimmy. Twenty-six children that aren’t mine, so I don’t have to find their chaos cute.”
“Have you lost the plot yet?” Roger laughed as he hugged him.
“Lost it the second I woke up, darling.” Freddie rolled his eyes, but smiled cheerfully when Dom hugged him and positively beamed when Felix demanded to be lifted up.
“Is Jim here?” Dominique asked. Freddie nodded with a smile.
“He’s helping Joe and Pheebs with the actual dinner- God knows I’d destroy the whole lot.”
“I mean you couldn’t boil an egg,” Roger reminded him.
“Neither could you.”
Sure enough the looks on Theo and Freddie’s faces were priceless when Roger’s present was revealed.
As soon as Theo finished ripping the wrapping paper off all his other presents (Roger quickly lost count, but there were more than thirty at
least
), Roger stepped forward with a smirk.
“Right, Theo, I have one more present for you, only I couldn’t bring it today- so I took a photo of it for you.” Smirking right at Freddie now, he handed Theo the photo- and watched in glee as Theo jumped up and down, shouting his head off. Theo’s skinny arms wrapped around him as he rapidly babbled
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
over and over until it was gibberish.
Brian picked up the discarded photo and winced. “Oh, you didn’t,” he groaned.
“What?” Freddie asked warily. He stood on tiptoe to look over Brian’s shoulder. His eyes widened, he even seemed to pale a little- then he promptly threw a pillow at Roger’s head, followed by a second and third.
“YOU BOUGHT HIM A DRUM SET!?”
“You’re pure evil,” Deacy said as Freddie threw another pillow. “Evil. You know that, right?”
“Worth it,” Roger said.
Freddie was out of pillows. Theo was running around, still babbling and screaming. Robert chased him, laughing. Jim seemed to have transported into another dimension, eyes glassy, expression utterly dead.
“We’re going to go deaf,” he mumbled weakly.
Freddie, red-faced, reached for the nearest wine bottle and-
“NOT THE WINE!”
Brian and Deacy yelled.
Slowly, huffily, Freddie set the wine back down, never taking his furious eyes off Roger’s face. Roger knew full well he wasn’t actually that pissed; if he was he’d have dragged Roger from the room to give him merry hell. He’d flat out refuse the drum set if he was truly angry about it.
“Well I did always say he needs a drum set,” Roger said cheerfully.
“You’re dead, darling. So dead.”
“Oh, we need earplugs,” Phoebe said mournfully. The kids were still going.
Okay, yeah, maybe Roger was a little evil. But with Theo so happy he couldn’t regret it even a little bit.
“Love you, Uncle Roggie,” Theo said breathlessly as he finally came to a stop. He hugged Roger tightly, beaming up at him. Grinning, Roger pushed Theo’s hair off his face.
“Yeah, love you too, Theo.”
Yep. He couldn’t regret it at all.
Two weeks later...
“You thought that I'd be helpless without ya but I'm smarter. You thought that I'd be stressed without ya, but I'm chillin'. You thought I wouldn't sell without ya, sold nine million. I'm a survivor (what), I'm not gon' give up (what). I'm not gon' stop (what), I'm gon' work harder (what). I'm a survivor (what), I'm gonna make it (what). I will survive (what), keep on survivin'.” -Survivor,
Destiny’s Child
Freddie was one of the first Omegas to refuse to take suppressants in the music industry; he wasn’t the first Omega singer, despite what the press liked to claim. He was just one of the first to refuse to pretend to be a Beta and have it pay off into the bargain. Many had tried before him and failed. Omegas were expected to take suppressants and even then they weren’t expected to be frontmen.
Until Freddie.
He’d been fighting against what was expected of Omegas ever since he presented; when young Omega fans told him he made them feel proud to be Omegas or that seeing him gave them the courage to try make it as themselves and not as Betas, he felt
proud.
Sure, life would have been easier had he been a Beta; it would have been ridiculously easy had he been an Alpha, but all things considered he wouldn’t change it.
That didn’t mean it was all sunshine and rainbows.
Aside from the obvious discrimination and objectification there were some personal things he didn’t like. He didn’t like how out of sync his heats were, for one. He knew heats varied from person to person: poor Phoebe became terribly weepy and his feet often hurt him so much he had to lie down or collapse. For those four days every month Freddie insisted that Phoebe take time off. His friend and PA was stubborn enough to struggle through the pain otherwise and Freddie didn’t want him to hurt himself.
Veronica’s heats had synced up with her periods long ago, which Freddie knew most female Omegas hoped for- it made it easier to handle, or so Veronica told him. She became clingier for those five days, often hanging off Deacy’s arm or snuggling up close to him. When he wasn’t there she called him more frequently, inquiring anxiously over how he was and when he’d be home. Her mood swings, when they hit, could be vicious; an angry, pregnant Veronica in heat was not a sight Freddie cared to ever see again. He was certain she’d scarred those teenagers for life- though he supposed it also served the spotty little shits right for cat-calling her like that.
As for Freddie...Well, his heats were rather a mess. Always had been. Sometimes they just didn’t show up. At sixteen he once missed three in a row and was utterly terrified his father would accuse him of being pregnant (though the logical side of him had known that fear was daft- if he’d been pregnant everyone would have smelled it). When his heats
did
hit they varied. He often ended up with throbbing headaches; when his luck was particularly bad they developed into outright migraines. For whatever reason he was constantly thirsty and had taken to carrying a water bottle with him whenever his heat was due, just to be safe. His mood swings...Okay, he could admit they could be bad. Sometimes they were mild enough; he felt huffy and tired one minute, then calm and happy the next. Other times he’d scream and shout then burst into mortified tears.
He still remembered how horrified poor Reid had been the first time he accidentally made Freddie cry- he’d been certain that Roger and Elton would team up to murder him. Elton did indeed take one look at Freddie’s tear-stained face and snap, “If you made the poor love cry you’re sleeping on the sofa, John!”
Honestly though, he could deal with all that- it was the way most Alphas (and some Betas) acted about heats that pissed him off. The media didn’t help; Freddie had long since lost count of how many trashy “romance” novels and movies he’d seen where the Omega was portrayed as a desperate sex machine in heat. They were portrayed as needy, helpless; practically unaware of anything around them except the nearest Alpha and the need to have that Alpha fuck them. It was all blatant bullshit, but the masses ate it right up- and
believed
it. A basic sex-education class would set them straight, but the image of Omegas as slutty little sex addicts persisted; the idea that Omegas were all weak-willed, submissive and unintelligent persisted stubbornly. And it affected their very
rights;
until 1964 it was perfectly legal (for an Alpha at least) to rape an Omega if that Omega was in heat. Until 1967 they couldn’t vote in England. Until 1953 a bonded Omega wasn’t allowed to work.
Had Freddie married Dazmen Yazadi, Dazmen would have been allowed to do whatever he wanted with him; England was considered
progressive,
whereas India...Had he been in India, in Bombay...Well, he would have been laughed straight out of the police station for reporting Paul, that was for sure. He would never have been allowed on a stage.
It would piss Freddie off to his dying day. There was nothing
sexy
about heats, not that he’d seen. They were a mild inconvenience at best, a total disruption in routine at worst. Slick? Not sexy. He truly didn’t see the appeal. He didn’t mind slick so long as it stayed
in
him, it was when it got out that he was embarrassed. And yes, he knew the usual “You shouldn’t be embarrassed by your body” speech, but everyone had something they didn’t like or find appealing. It wasn’t just him personally though; he didn’t see how
anyone
found slick sexy; he remembered a particular Alpha boy from college who constantly talked about how much slick his partners produced and...no. Just no.
It was yet another thing the media misrepresented; the movies made it look like an Omega would be left in a puddle of their own slick during sex, heat or no heat. It was bullshit. It was infuriating.
And Freddie didn’t know why he was brooding on it so much tonight. Jim was fast asleep, still holding Freddie close to him. They hadn’t done anything more than cuddle, yet Freddie’ thoughts were going a mile a minute.
Jim was kind. Jim was lovely. Jim looked at him like an equal. Hell, Jim looked at him like he was something precious, like he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to keep him. Jim was, easily, the best relationship he’d ever had. He made Freddie feel
safe.
So why in the world was Freddie lying here, steadily working himself into a temper over the world’s treatment of Omegas?
He knew he was overthinking things, but he supposed he kept waiting for the hammer to fall. He kept waiting for something to go wrong. He kept waiting for someone to say, “Sorry, you’re not allowed have this,” and take it away.
He hated nights like this; nights where he couldn’t sleep; the nights when all he could think of was Ridge Farm and how easily Paul could have gotten away with it. He remembered how Paul had simply walked away and gone to drink some more and felt sick to his stomach. Paul hadn’t even tried to run; he’d just gotten another drink, like he thought no one would do anything to defend Freddie. Because in Paul’s mind and in the minds of all those like him, he hadn’t done anything wrong.
The world had tried so hard to convince Freddie, and all Omegas, that they weren’t worth it. That they were to sit still, to keep their heads down, to keep their mouths shut. They’d been seen as sex dolls for so long that people genuinely believed it of them.
It wasn’t fair. He wondered if they’d ever be treated fairly.
He wondered if there would ever come a time when the thought of Paul Prenter didn’t bother him; he wondered if there would come a time when he never thought of the man again.
It was just a bad night. It would pass. Freddie would keep going.
He always did.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
February 28th, 1981
“I'm your music (I am your music and I am your song), I'm your song (I am your music and I am your song). Play me time and time again and make me strong (Play me again 'cause you're making me strong). Make me sing, make me sound (You make me sing and you make me). Andante, andante, tread lightly on my ground. Andante, andante, oh please don't let me down.” -Andante, Andante,
Mamma Mia 2 (cover)
Jim was a good person; he was shy, a little awkward and held Freddie like he was made of glass. More than anything, it was a comfort.
Right now it was also ever so slightly irritating.
Jim was considerate, a perfect gentleman- as such he’d never put a hand on Freddie without express permission. Which was good; that was how it
should
be. But that mean that Freddie had to
give
that permission, had to actually say the words out loud and much as he wanted to the words kept sticking in his throat. He’d give anything to be able to just turn around and say, “So, I want to have sex,” but his voice kept deserting him. It wasn’t like they’d done
nothing
so he didn’t see why he couldn’t just
say
it.
He could admit it pissed him off. It had been six years since Paul, so why wasn’t he
okay?
“Fred, honey?”
He glanced over his shoulder at Jim, who was lounging on the bed, looking at him. “You okay? You just kind of...Spaced out.”
Freddie had been brushing his teeth, bathroom door open; toothbrush still in his mouth, he shrugged.
“Bad night?” Jim asked.
Shrugging again, Freddie spat into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “Kind of? I can’t quite get my brain to shut up.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Yes. No. God no. But yes.
If Jim could magically develop the ability to read minds that would be lovely.
That wasn’t likely to happen any time soon though, so Freddie joined him, curling up close to his side. They were at Garden Lodge; Jim seemed to be spending more and more nights there, which never failed to bring a smile to Freddie’s face. Things were going well. There was nothing to worry about, he
knew
that. He just sometimes wished someone could make all these decisions for him; sometimes he wished Jim would bring it up, that he’d try to initiate things a little more.
He didn’t want to trigger Freddie and Freddie
knew
that, he appreciated it completely- but sometimes he just wished he could feel
normal.
That his boyfriend didn’t have to be so worried about frightening him. He wished he
wasn’t
frightened, because the most infuriating thing to him was that he
was
frightened. He wanted to have sex, but he was too frightened to ask. He wished his brain could just
settle,
just pick a stance and stick with it. Frightened or wanting.
Pick one.
He wanted to say it all, to let out everything he was thinking, but what came out instead was, “How are you not bored?”
Jim was clearly startled as he blurted out,
“What?”
“No, I don’t- I don’t mean to imply
I’m
bored, or that you
should
be, it’s just...Well…” Closing his eyes, Freddie said, “Do you want to have sex?” Praise the Lord, it was easier to talk about this so long as he didn’t have to look at Jim’s reactions.
Jim was silent for so long that Freddie was certain his boyfriend was going to say no. But Jim held him closer, and spoke somewhat cautiously; “Well, yes, I do. I just- I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”
“I know, but...Say I wanted to…”
“...Do you?”
Freddie forced himself to look at Jim; the Alpha looked cautious, but hopeful, a little pink in the cheeks.
And Freddie nodded.
“I do,” he said. “I just…”
“I know,” Jim said and the wonderful thing was that he
did
know, Freddie didn’t have to go into all the ins and outs of it. He was nervous. Terribly so. Jim knew that and wouldn’t force him to brood on that either.
“We can figure it out,” Jim offered with a smile- a smile that Freddie returned and said, “Okay.”
Because the
truly
wonderful thing about it all was that he trusted Jim completely. It didn’t instantly soothe his nerves, but it helped to make things easier. It eased his breathing, stopped his hands from shaking so much.
“'Cause we break down a little. And when you get me alone, it's so simple. 'Cause baby, I know what you know- we can feel it. And our pieces fall right into place. Get caught up in the moments, lipstick on your face. So it goes. I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose. You know I'm not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you. So it goes.” -So It Goes…,
Taylor Swift
Jim pulled Freddie into his lap, hands resting lightly on those thin hips. “Like this?” he asked. Freddie, already flushed, nodded.
For a second Jim floundered, unsure of exactly how to proceed. But leaving it all up to Freddie wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t be
right.
So as he worked Freddie’s pyjamas off he kissed the top of his head, his forehead, cheeks and nose, before finally pressing their lips together as he got the last of Freddie’s clothing off- and then a thought struck that nearly had him groaning.
“Shit,” he hissed.
“What’s wrong?” Freddie asked, eyes wide and alarmed.
“I- I didn’t bring anything,” Jim said. “I haven’t got any lube or condoms, I-”
“Oh for goodness sake, darling.” Freddie was laughing, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders and expression. “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing? Top drawer,” he said, jerking his head to the bedside table closest to Jim.
Jim was sure he was an unbecoming shade of red as realisation sank in: Freddie really did want this. Hell, he’d
planned
for it and the realisation made him want to hold Freddie close and never let go, as it really
finally
hit that this was happening; that Freddie trusted him this much.
“I love you,” Jim told him, for what was probably the thousandth time; he still wasn’t tired of saying it. He doubted he ever would be.
Freddie’s smile made his heart stop.
“I love you too.” The smile turned cheeky, even as he went pinker, when he pointed to the top drawer and said, “So are we doing this or not? I’m comfortable here, darling, don’t get me wrong, but…” His hips rocked slightly; Jim had to bite his lip to keep from groaning.
But it was all the prompting he needed.
“I have a dream, a fantasy, to help me through reality. And my destination makes it worth the while, pushing through the darkness still another mile. I believe in angels, something good in everything I see. I believe in angels. When I know the time is right for me, I'll cross the stream. I have a dream.” -I Have A Dream,
Mamma Mia 2 (cover)
Afterwards, Freddie was still sprawled on top of Jim, head resting lightly on Jim’s chest as he waited for his breathing to even out.
He had to squeeze his eyes shut as Jim settled inside him, gripping Jim’s arms tight enough to bruise.
“I’m fine,” he said before Jim could ask. “I’m alright, I just...Just need a moment…”
“Of course,” Jim said, and-
“Fred? Oh God, you’re crying, I-”
“I’m
fine,
” Freddie said, half laughing, half crying and totally overwhelmed. “I...This is going to sound so stupid, but...I thought that would be scarier.” He wiped at his eyes, but it was useless; he immediately teared up again. But he felt
happy.
There was no panic, no flashbacks, just-
“You’re beautiful,” Jim panted and Freddie buried his face in Jim’s neck as the pace picked up. He was glad, so glad, that he wasn’t under Jim or on his hands and knees; in Jim’s lap he could easily stop if it got to be too much. Facing Jim (even if he was hiding his face right now) he could see what Jim was doing. He could move as much or as little as he wanted and the relief itself was enough to leave him breathless- and then Jim hit his spot perfectly and he couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“That was a lot,” Freddie said, grinning fit to burst. More shyly; “That was perfect.”
“You’re okay?” Jim asked gently; his hand, as was his habit now, ran up and down Freddie’s waist. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Freddie leaned up to kiss him; his legs were sore, the marks on his neck outright
throbbed
and he rather wanted another bath, but he meant it; he was sure. He was okay.
“I love you,” Freddie said. He’d lost track of how many times he’d said that tonight, but the point stood; he loved Jim. He trusted him. And this? This was okay. More than okay. He felt like laughing, relief bubbling in his chest, he couldn’t stop grinning.
He was okay.
He could handle it.
“Love you too,” Jim said, expression softening.
They fell quiet, lying there in comfortable silence before Jim said, “We should clean up before we fall asleep, Fred.”
“Hn.” Freddie buried his face in Jim’s shoulder again, grip tightening; Jim laughed, lightly shoving him.
“Freddie, honey, c’mon.”
“Not yet,” Freddie said, eyes slipping shut. “I want to stay here for a while.”
Although Jim let out an amused huff he pressed a kiss into Freddie’s hair and Freddie could
feel
him smiling.
“Anything you want, love.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? That was the core of the matter; Freddie knew Jim meant it, that Jim
would
give him anything he wanted. And Freddie would do anything for Jim too.
He’d once sworn that he wouldn’t- that he
couldn’t
- trust anyone other than
Queen,
his family, Mary, Miami and Reid.
Freddie had never been so glad to be proven wrong.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1982, Garden Lodge
“I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now. Channeling angels in a new age now. Hot summer days, rock and roll, the way you play for me at your show;and all the ways, I got to know your pretty face and electric soul. Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will. Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?” -Young And Beautiful,
Lana Del Rey
Jim had a fantastic poker face, Freddie had long since figured that out. But Theo, Joe and Phoebe did not.
Joe kept smirking, Phoebe kept beaming at him and Theo seemed unusually excited about something. Something was up, but damn if Freddie could even begin to guess.
Questioning Theo had gotten him nowhere.
“Alright, darling, what has you so excited?” Freddie asked as he tucked Theo into bed. Theo only grinned, wriggling, all but bouncing in excitement.
“Can’t tell,” he said brightly. “It’s a surprise!”
So Jim was definitely planning something and even had Theo in on it- but for once the child wasn’t spilling the beans. He mimed zipping his lips and laughed at Freddie unimpressed expression.
“You’ll see,” Theo said. “It’s really good, I promise!”
Well, Theo had told the truth; actually, it was more than “really good” it was enough to make Freddie’s heart skip a beat, because one minute he was starting to doze off with his head in Jim’s lap and the next minute Jim had pulled out a little black box, containing a simple but beautiful engagement ring.
Holy shit,
was Freddie’s only coherent thought.
“I figured it’d only embarrass us both if I did this in public,” Jim said, already blushing terribly. Freddie scrambled to sit up, unable to look away, terrified that if he did he’d wake up and it would all be a dream.
But he didn’t wake up. It was real.
“I love you,” Jim said, taking his hand. “I’ve never...I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, you know that? I always hoped I’d fall in love one day, but
this
exceeds any expectations and hopes I ever had.
You
exceed any expectations and hopes I ever had. You- you’re amazing. I’ve never met anyone as brave as you, Freddie, and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy. Will you marry me?”
Wordlessly, near tears, Freddie flung himself into Jim’s arms.
“I take it that’s a yes?” Jim asked.
“
Obviously
it’s a yes!” Freddie said. “Now gimme my damn ring!”
“Where are you now? Another dream, the monsters running wild inside of me. I'm faded. I'm faded So lost, I'm faded. I'm faded. So lost, I'm faded.” -Faded,
Alan Walker
Knotting, as it turned out, was not something Freddie particularly enjoyed. The bond mark throbbed on his neck but it was fine; a little odd, a little thrilling to realise his and Jim’s scents were permanently linked until death do them part, but as the knot swelled Freddie yelped.
He closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth as memories tried to force their way forward, as a wave anxiety swelled in his chest and made his hands shake.
“Freddie? Honey, are you okay?” Jim asked.
“I’m fine,” Freddie said, eyes still shut, trying to keep his breathing even. “C-can you slow down a little, darling?”
“Of course,” Jim said and it helped a little but it hurt more than Freddie thought it would, he hadn’t-
Paul’s thrusts picked up speed until Freddie could feel blood on his legs. If Paul noticed he didn’t care; he only moaned, low and long and pulled Freddie flush against him, leaning down to bite at his neck again.
When Freddie sobbed Paul grabbed him by the hair, pulling until his scalp felt like it was on fire.
“Shut
up,
stop crying, this is what Omegas are born for,” he hissed. When Freddie opened his eyes Paul was glaring at him, but when he saw that Freddie was looking at him he started to smirk.
“Roger can’t be fucking you that often,” he purred. “You’re still so tight.”
And he grabbed Freddie’s hips, the next thrust so forceful and painful that Freddie screamed through the gag. He wanted to scream for Roger, he wanted-
“Freddie?” Jim was peering down at him with clear concern, eyes wide and frightened. He’d stopped moving, thank God, as the knot reached its peak.“Love, are you alright?”
“It hurts,” Freddie admitted. He felt fucking
cheated.
Sure, there were times where he shied away from Jim’s touch; there were times where they had to stop half-way through sex because Freddie panicked. But this was his
engagement night,
he was being
bonded.
This was meant to be perfect and magical, the stuff of fairy tales and romance novels. The couple bonds and gets married, happily ever after, curtains closed. End of story. He didn’t want to be scared tonight of all nights, or have flashbacks or panic, not
now.
This was just meant to be about him and Jim.
Fucking Paul
goddamn
Prenter.
“How- how long until it goes down?” Freddie asked uncomfortably. He could feel his eyes starting to sting.
“About five minutes,” Jim said apologetically. He pushed Freddie’s hair out of his eyes, his thumb stroking over a cheekbone. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think…”
“You shouldn’t
have
to,” Freddie burst out. “
Fuck,
I just-” He threw his forearm over his eyes, hiding. “I’m sorry. God, I fucked everything up, I-”
“No,” Jim said, pulling his arm away. “
No.
Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong, for God’s sake. It’s not your fault. It was
never
your fault.”
“I’m sorry,” Freddie repeated, more on auto-pilot than anything.
“You have
nothing
to be sorry for,” Jim said, leaning down to kiss him. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. I promise. Look, if it helps we don’t have to do this again, okay? Knotting can just be a once off if you want.”
But that
wasn’t
what Freddie wanted. He wanted to be able to handle it, he wanted to be completely comfortable with it. He wanted to just have sex like anyone else without flashbacks, without feeling smothered and uncomfortable out of nowhere. It had taken him so long to even be okay with lying under Jim.
He was
happy
so why the fuck did this have to happen? God damn it, this was meant to be the height of romance and of
course
he had to have flashbacks, of course Paul fucking Prenter had to wreck this too.
And suddenly, Freddie wasn’t angry with himself.
“You’re right, darling,” he murmured, partially to take the worry from Jim’s eyes. He pulled Jim down to him and his fiance kissed at the bond mark; it would take days to stop being sensitive and it made Freddie shiver and tighten his grip, head automatically tilting back to allow for better access.
“You’re right,” he repeated. Just like he had in Ray Foster’s office all those years ago, he took his anger and clung to it like a lifeline, using it to push himself forward. “It’s not my fault.”
He knew whose fault it was.
And he knew what he wanted to do about it.
One week later…
“It's not like you to say sorry, I was waiting on a different story. This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking. And I've been wrong, I've been down into the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream ‘are we having fun yet?’” -How You Remind Me,
Nickelback
“Are you sure about this?” Roger asked, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
“Yes,” Freddie said, though he felt seconds away from throwing up. He was sure, but he was still terrified to his bones.
Miami met them there, eyebrows pinched in concern. He'd only told Roger about this at first, though Roger had insisted they should at least tell Miami, after Freddie refused to tell the others. They'd only try to talk him out of it, Jim included. But, as Roger pointed out, Miami was their lawyer and manager. Having him there could be a good idea.
“Freddie, are you-?”
“I’m sure,”
Freddie snapped. He caught sight of himself in the window: he looked a trifle too pale, but he was standing as tall as he could, fists clenched. He had his leather jacket on, as well as leather boots; his engagement ring glittered in the sun, drawing the eye. Everything about his appearance, he was happy to see, screamed
Don’t fuck with me.
Good.
Good.
That was what he wanted, what he needed.
All the same, when Roger offered his hand Freddie gladly took it.
Inside, he went ahead alone. Head held high, fists clenched, marching more than walking; stubborn, determined, teeth grit, eyes flashing. For someone so small he looked strong then, scary even. Another visitor flinched back from him as he stormed past.
Good, good, I can do this,
he thought.
I can do this.
You can do anything,
he remembered Roger saying, too many times to count.
You’re beautiful,
he remembered Jim saying over and over again until Freddie believed him.
You’re brilliant,
he remembered Brian saying after their first rehearsal. One of the few things Freddie had let himself take pride in back then: that he could sing like no one else.
You’re stronger than you look,
he remembered Deacy saying, eyes wide as saucers after Freddie threw his drink in a pushy, pissed off Alpha’s face for hitting Roger, after Roger told him to leave Freddie alone. It had escalated into a full-blow fight, which was how his friends learned he’d had boxing classes for years.
We should all take more risks,
he remembered Mary saying, shoving a bright purple and gold shirt at him and pointing to the Biba dressing room with a smile.
Go on, I really think it’ll make a difference.
And most of all, he remembered Theo running to him time and time again with his problems or after bad dreams or a bad day, so certain that Freddie could do anything, face anything, solve any problems life had. Because to Theo, Freddie
could
do anything. Because to Theo’s awed eyes, Freddie was brave.
And maybe, just maybe, Theo was right. Maybe Freddie didn’t give himself enough credit.
Maybe he didn't give himself enough credit at all, because he didn’t flinch when the man in front of him sat down and stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. Freddie kept his hand splayed on the table, making sure his ring was in full view.
They were separated by glass and after a long moment Freddie picked up the phone next to him and saw the man, that
monster,
do the same, clearly caught off guard. Another thing Freddie appreciated.
Taking a deep breath, refusing to cower, Freddie spoke.
“Hello, Paul.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“One day she will tell you that she has had enough. It's coming ‘round again. Do you feel like a man when you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground? Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's got to end, as your lies crumble down, a new life she has found.” -Face Down, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus Paul’s eyes went from wide to narrowed and disgusted as he hissed, “What the fuck are you-?” “Shut up,” Freddie cut him off. “I’m going to talk and you’re doing to bloody well listen, understand?” “And if I don’t?” “Fuck off back to your cell then,” Freddie challenged. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.” The silence stretched on and Freddie was sure Paul would leave. But he didn’t. Angry and resentful, he stayed where he was. “Why’re you here?” he eventually snapped. “To tell you that you didn’t win,” Freddie said and he saw Paul’s eyes fly to his ring. “You didn’t get what you wanted, not really. Because I didn’t break. I didn’t submit to you, you took me by force. You raped me and I hate you for it. I know some people would expect me to forgive you, but I don’t- and that’s okay too. Not that you give a shit if I forgive you or not. You still think it’s my fault, don’t you?” ("Little slut, you wanted this, don't lie." "You brought this on yourself, you stupid fucking whore.") Paul certainly seemed to enjoy that word; it was his go-to insult. Whore. “It is your fault,” Paul insisted. “You acted like a whore on stage, you pranced about half-dressed, you led me on for two years! And, what? You expected me to let you away with it? You're an Omega! You're born for sex, you're here to spread your legs and do what you're told.” Well, it wasn't like Freddie had expected Paul to repent. But still, hearing it all again hurt. “That’s the thing,” Freddie said, forcing a sweet smile. “I never needed your permission for any of that. I didn’t need anyone’s permission to be myself. I didn’t lead you on because I didn’t want you. Get this in your head, Paul: I hate you. You utterly disgust me and if I had it my way you’d die behind bars.” “Who the hell are you engaged to?” Paul demanded, eyes still narrowed on the ring. “Who’d want a ruined whore like you? I won’t believe you if you tell me it’s Roger.” “It’s none of your business.” He clenched his hand into a fist and hid it on his lap. The ring had gotten the reaction he’d hoped for, but that wasn’t why he was here. He had to focus. “All you need to know is that you didn’t win. You wanted me broken, but I’m not. Queen is still top of the charts, I’m engaged and…” He pulled his jacket collar down, revealing the bond mark and grinned at Paul’s furious face. “I’m bonded too. So...Go rot for all I care. I’ll never see you again.” He went to put the phone down, but Paul spoke up. “Whatever, I still got to fuck you bloody.” He was smirking. “Best lay I’ve ever had. I’ve never fucked an ass so tight.” Freddie wanted to scream in his face; he wanted to reach through the glass and break his neck. He wanted to vomit, to run and hide in his room, safe and warm in Jim’s arms. Instead, he smiled. “Yes, that’s what my fiance says too, dear.” Still smiling, he walked away, ignoring the muffled shout behind him, ignoring when Paul punched the glass. Officers raced in to drag Paul away, but Freddie didn’t look back once. “Oh brother, we'll go deeper than the ink beneath the skin of our tattoos. Though we don't share the same blood you're my brother and I love you that's the truth. We're living different lives, heaven only knows if we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes. 5 years, 20 years, come back it will always be the same. If I was dying on my knees you would be the one to rescue me. And if you were drowned at sea, I would give you my lungs so you could breathe. I've got you brother-er-er-er. I've got you brother-er-er-er.” -Brother, Kodaline Freddie looked pale and shaken, but he still walked with his head held high. When Roger held his arms out he half collapsed into them; he hid his face in Roger’s shoulder, clinging to him as Roger rocked them back and forth. “Are you alright?” Roger asked quietly. He rested his chin on top of Freddie’s head, thankful that Miami had backed off to allow them some privacy. “I’m okay,” Freddie said. “I...Yeah, I...I’m okay, darling.” “You’re sure?” “...That was terrifying,” Freddie admitted. Roger could all but see the adrenaline leaving him, at least for now, as the reality of what he’d faced crashed down on him. “But I feel like I had to do it, you know?” “I know.” He hadn’t liked it one bit, but he understood. He still wanted to storm down the hallways, hunt Prenter down and kill him, but he understood. Knowing that monster was so close by set his teeth on edge. It made him want to never let Freddie go. It brought Ridge Farm to the front of his mind, screaming at him, Protect Freddie, protect him, PROTECT HIM! But this was it, Roger reminded himself. This was well and truly it. They were done. They never had to see Prenter again. Freddie had faced his demons- or demon rather. But he’d done it. He’d come out with his head held high. He wanted to say how proud he was. He wanted to tell Freddie just how brave he was, how strong he was; he wanted to apologise for underestimating him. He didn’t even know where to begin, but he settled with a quiet, “I love you, Freddie.” He felt Freddie smile against his shoulder as he replied, “I love you too, Roggie.” “Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell it was love from above, like it saved me from hell. She had fire in her soul, it was easy to see how the devil himself could be pulled out of me. There were drums in the air as she started to dance, every soul in the room keeping time with their hands and we sang- Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay. And the voices rang like the angels sing.” -Into The Night, Santana “Where the hell have you been? ” Jim demanded as soon as Freddie arrived home. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning. Brian said you and Roger didn’t turn up to the studio and Deacy hadn’t seen Miami either, you-” He was cut off when Freddie kissed him, harsh and passionate; one second he was holding Jim’s face in his hands, standing on tiptoe. The next, his small hands were fumbling with Jim’s belt. “Freddie, what-?” “Fuck me, darling.” Freddie’s eyes were blazing with something Jim had never seen before. He had that stubborn set to his jaw that Jim knew so well, but there was something else there, something entirely new. “I...Are you sure?” Jim asked, blinking rapidly. To his shock Freddie only rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m bloody sure.” When Jim only continued to gape at him Freddie stepped back and made for the stairs. “Stand there all day if you want,” he threw over his shoulder. He slid his jacket off and Jim’s mouth went dry. The red tank-top Freddie was wearing was simple enough but it was downright skimpy, those black jeans were clinging to him and he couldn’t quite believe the way Freddie was looking at him. “I’m going upstairs,” Freddie said. “You can either fuck me or I’ll do it myself.” Well fuck, Jim thought. He was sure he wasn’t imagining the added sway to Freddie’s hips. He usually sashayed a little as he walked but this was deliberate. Well then. Fuck it. “Harder,” Freddie gasped, but to his mounting frustration Jim slowed down. “Honey, are you sure?” Clawing at the sheets, Freddie threw a glare over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure,” he all but snapped. “I want you to fuck me.” He went for what he knew would work: “I’m yours. I want you. Show me I’m yours.” Sure enough Jim growled; he gripped Freddie’s hips hard enough to bruise and the pace soon had Freddie screaming into his pillow. It was worth it, God, it was so worth it. He didn’t know where the anxiety he’d been feeling all day had gone but as far as he was concerned it could fuck off and never come back. This was all new; the position, Freddie on his hands and knees. The pace, how rough Jim was being. It was all the sort of situation that should have terrified him, but as Jim bent over him to bite down on the bond mark it only made Freddie press back against him. He felt- well, he wasn’t sure exactly. Adrenaline was coursing through him, he felt stronger. Braver. He’d looked Paul Prenter in the eye, told him exactly what he thought of him and even walked away with a smile. He figured he deserved some sex after that. The next thing he knew Jim had flipped him onto his back, threw Freddie’s legs over his shoulders and picked up the pace, thrusting harder. “What’re you-?”“I want to see you,” Jim said. His eyes were damn near black. Somehow that was what made Freddie blush. But it still made him grin and he pulled Jim down to kiss him; the next thrust hit home, leaving Freddie screaming Jim’s name. “You’re mine,” Jim groaned against his neck, lips against the still-sensitive bond mark. “Mine.” “Yours,” Freddie agreed, holding Jim as close as he could. “I’m yours.” And he meant it. He was Jim’s. Despite Paul’s best efforts Freddie wasn’t his; he never had been, he never would be. “Ow,” Freddie laughed later as he attempted and failed to sit up straight. “It was your idea,” Jim reminded him with a grin. He pulled Freddie back down, spooning him. “What the hell brought that on?” “Just wanted to,” Freddie said, which was true, but not the whole truth. He’d have to explain where he’d been all day. He knew Jim wouldn’t be angry with him, but he just might want to kick Roger’s ass for encouraging him.
Sorry, Rog.
“I love you,” Freddie said, twisting around to kiss him for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “I love you too, honey.” Jim absentmindedly traced patterns on his stomach, starting to doze off. “But you’d blooming well better explain what was going on today.” “I will,” Freddie swore. “Just...Later, okay darling?” “Later,” Jim agreed and Freddie curled up in his arms, smiling as they both drifted off.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1982
“'Cause you'll be in my heart. Yes, you'll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forever more. You'll be in my heart. No matter what they say; you'll be here in my heart. Always.” -You’ll Be In My Heart,
Phil Collins
After Freddie had explained just
where
he’d fucked off to all day Jim was torn between anger at Roger for encouraging it, anger that Freddie hadn’t
said
anything, worry, outright fear and a fierce, burning pride that Freddie had stood up to Prenter and walked away with a smile.
“Why didn’t you
tell
me?” Jim asked, tense, coiled as tightly as a spring a spring, eyes roaming over Freddie frantically, looking for even the faintest clue that he was in distress.
“You would have talked me out of it, darling,” Freddie pointed out calmly.
And...Well, Freddie had him there. He would have. He would have tried his hardest anyway.
He sighed heavily, grip on Freddie tightening, holding him against his chest.
“You’re alright? You’re
sure
you’re alright?”
“I’m
sure,
” Freddie half-laughed half-huffed. “I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I finally stood up to him.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” Jim said. Freddie smiled up at him, eyes shining and Jim never wanted to let him go.
“...I’m going to kick Rog’s ass though,” he added and Freddie laughed at him.
“Kick his ass later, we have to collect Theo from school.”
As if to drive home what an insane day this was, a certain
something
happened when Jim helped Theo with his maths homework. Freddie, hopeless with numbers, had promptly said “Ask Jim, darling,” when Theo came trailing in with his homework. Jim, happy to help, sat at the dining room table with Theo, helping him through his sums.
Once the last one was done Jim ruffled Theo’s hair with a smile. “There we go,” he said. “Not so hard, eh?”
“Thanks, Dad,” Theo said and Jim nearly fell off his chair. Freddie must have overheard from the living room, because Jim could hear him muffling his scream in a pillow.
Hard pressed not to cry Jim kept smiling. He repeated it to himself;
thanks Dad. DAD.
Theo actually called him
dad.
“No problem, buddy,” he said and Theo’s smile grew.
One week ago...“This thing (this thing) called love (called love). It cries (like a baby) in a cradle all night. It swings (woo woo) it jives (woo woo). It shakes all over like a jellyfish, I kinda like it. Crazy little thing called love.” -Crazy Little Thing Called Love,
Queen
Freddie’s announcement of his engagement had certainly been eventful- surprisingly calm from Freddie, but John could admit that the rest of them
lost it.
Brian took one sniff of the mixed scents, took one look at the bond mark on Freddie’s neck and honest-to-God fell off his chair, gaping wordlessly.
“Alright, Brimi?” Freddie asked, far too innocently.
“Fred, holy shit!”
John gasped. For a moment he felt like he was going to fall over too. Because- well, because holy shit! That was a bond mark! That was an engagement ring glittering on Freddie’s finger and
HOLY SHIT!
In a flash he was across the room, hugging Freddie so tightly he lifted him clear off the ground.
“You better tell us
everything,
” Brian said, somewhat hoarse with shock as he pushed himself off the ground.
“When Rog gets here,” Freddie promised- and they didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes Roger was in the doorway. He froze, one foot in the room, eyes nearly popping out of his head.
Slowly, he pointed at Freddie’s neck. “What the fuck is that?” he asked.
“A bond mark,” Freddie said, smile wavering slightly; John could practically
feel
his anxiety levels rising, the sudden fear that Roger would freak out and disapprove. Silently, he took Freddie’s hand, offering support.
They needn’t have worried. Roger let out a deafening
“WHOO!”
and flung himself at Freddie, lifting him up and spinning him around.
“HOLY FUCK, FRED!”
“ROGGIE PUT ME DOWN!”
Laughing, Roger set Freddie back down, but still hugged him tightly. Grinning, near to laughter himself, John clung to them both, smiling all the wider when Brian ran over to join the group hug.
They were all bowled over, ecstatic, asking a million questions:
how did Jim propose, how did you react, what happened, when did it happen, where did it happen? You’re happy right? Did Phoebe cry? How’s Theo? What do you MEAN Theo knew!?
Miami’s reaction was the best. As he walked in he just started to say, “What an
earth-?
” and stopped dead, staring at them all. John could admit they must have made quite the sight; four grown men, babbling away a mile a minute, laughing, clinging to each other in the middle of the room.
Then he caught sight of the bond mark, caught sight of the ring and dropped his coffee cup on the ground. It shattered, splashing coffee all over his expensive shoes and suit pants. He didn’t even seem to notice.
“Miami, darling?”
“Freddie, what the hell!?”
The very sound of Miami swearing (or as close to it as he’d ever been) had them all in stitches again.
July 18th, 1983
“Look into your eyes, (Oh, look at those eyes) and the sky's the limit (Oh). I'm helpless, (I know) down for the count and I'm drownin’ in ‘em. I'm helpless! (I'm so into you). Look into your eyes, (I am so) and the sky's the limit (into you) I'm helpless! (I know) I'm down for the count and I'm drownin’ in ‘em.” -Helpless,
Hamilton
Roger tried not to cry at the wedding, honestly he did. He soon lost the battle with himself: as Freddie and Jim made their vows the tears escaped.
“Oh, they’re
perfect
together,” Elton murmured. And finally,
finally,
Roger agreed. Finally, he could admit to trusting someone besides his boys with their Freddie. Jim Hutton, he knew, would rather chop his own arm off than hurt Freddie.
One glance to the left showed him that Deacy was openly in tears as well, while Brian was still battling for composure. Theo, sitting in the front row and leaning against Jer, was wriggling in his seat, beaming broadly. Mary was smiling so hard she was squinting.
It was a beautiful service; an airy, bright chapel covered in bright flowers. The sun shone through the windows and glinted off the golden statues of Mary and the baby Christ as well as a multitude of other saints Roger couldn’t name. And although it was a Catholic priest, Freddie was dressed traditionally, swathed in red, gold and white. He was
glowing,
that was the only word for it. Utterly, radiantly happy.
Jim, by contrast was in a black tux. He looked down at Freddie with a tinge of disbelief, like he wasn’t quite convinced this was real. Like he expected Freddie to vanish if he looked away for too long; like he wasn’t sure he got to keep him.
Well, Roger knew that feeling.
When the time came for them to kiss, Jim did so with such vigour he lifted Freddie clear off the ground; the Omega’s chiming laugh echoed through the church and that was what finally did poor Brimi in- his fellow Alpha was smiling and crying at the same time, clapping with all the rest.
“Well,” Roger said, grinning as Jim set Freddie down. “It took them long enough.”
“As if you’d have let it happen any sooner,” Deacy laughed.
“Point,” Roger said with a wry smile. His eyes flew back to the couple on the altar. It was hard to look away from them. He really wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a couple so happy before, not even Deacy and Ronnie. Freddie and Jim seemed to produce a light of their own. They looked at each other with so much love it almost hurt to see. It was the stuff of fairytales, the type of love Roger hadn’t believed in growing up. The type of love he’d been worried Freddie wouldn’t find, held back by fear and trauma- but then Freddie had proven him wrong. He’d proven them all wrong. Jim had proven them wrong too.
So. His best friend was really
truly
happy now. Roger knew that Jim would look after him, that Jim could be trusted. The trauma wasn’t
gone
necessarily but Roger didn’t think he’d ever seen Freddie so radiant. He was safe. They all were.
He figured he could be forgiven for crying at that realisation.
“Sometimes, it's enough just to make you feel crazy. You get ready, you get all dressed up to go nowhere in particular. Back to work or the coffee shop. Doesn't matter 'cause it's enough to be young and in love. To be young and in love.” -Love,
Lana Del Rey
The reception was utterly crazy of course. After the first slow dance, during which Freddie and Jim did little more than sway together, the party let rip. Roger of course, once more threatened to gut Jim during his best man speech should he ever hurt Freddie.
Freddie could see Theo and Robert jumping about, dancing and screaming along to the music. At one point Freddie “danced” with Theo, spinning him around and around, both of them laughing breathlessly (though he made utterly certain Theo had his inhaler on hand just in case).
Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, they all stumbled to their hotel rooms. Theo would be staying with Jer and Bomi again and as such they had left relatively early as Theo started to doze off- and to be fair his parents weren’t young anymore. They were clearly exhausted too.
To Freddie’s surprise it had been Bomi to pull him into a hug first; it was brief but tight, as Bomi patted him on the back and gruffly said, “I’m happy for you.”
Jer meanwhile had held both his hands in hers and said, “You’re happy, Bāḷaka? Truly?”
Freddie had smiled, unable to keep from smiling really, as he said, “I am, Mama.”
She’d looked close to tears. “Good,” she said, squeezing his hands.
Freddie had stooped to hug Theo tightly; his son was nearly asleep on his feet but he hugged back, hugging Jim too.
“‘Night, Papa, ‘night, Dad,” he mumbled as Bomi carried him away.
For a moment Freddie basked in the silence, letting the events of the day wash over him. Then, with a smirk, Jim lifted him clear off the ground, carrying him to the lift.
“What are you
doing?
” Freddie laughed, arms automatically going around Jim’s neck.
“Well what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t carry you over the threshold?” Jim asked.
Freddie could only smile, pressing his face into Jim’s neck as the lift carried them to their floor. Jim carried him the whole way to their room, easily balancing Freddie as he unlocked the door.
“And to think we’ve got two weeks in Barcelona after this,” Freddie murmured into Jim’s shoulder.
“Well,” Jim drawled as he laid Freddie down on the bed. “That’ll be two weeks of me utterly spoiling you, Mr Hutton.”
Mr Hutton.
Freddie could get used to that. Grinning, blushing, he pulled Jim down to kiss him.
“I look forward to it.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
December, 1983 “So this is where you fell and I am left to sell. The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell right to the top. Don't look back. Turning to rags and giving the commodities a rain check. I don't ever want to let you down. I don't ever want to leave this town- 'cause after all, this city never sleeps at night. It's time to begin, isn't it?” -It’s Time, Imagine Dragons Jim had never considered himself a particularly cuddly person. He was once too awkward to even hold hands in public. Funny how much Freddie changed things. It was early, still dark out, and Jim lay in bed spooning his husband (husband! He still couldn’t believe it), idly tracing patterns on Freddie’s stomach. He’d thought Freddie was still asleep, but then he squirmed, resting his hands on top of Jim’s as he mumbled, “What time is it?” Jim leaned up to check the time; “Seven.” “Ugh, no,” Freddie groaned, settling down again, pulling his hands away to hug his pillow instead. “Too early.” “Sorry for waking you.” “Hn...Why’re you up so early anyway?” “Just...Thinking,” Jim said, starting to trace his fingers back and forth again over Freddie’s pyjama top. “About what?” Freddie asked with a yawn. For a moment, Jim hesitated. He forced himself to keep calm, to keep idling tracing patterns as if the answer didn’t matter to him either way. Quietly, he asked, “What do you think about having a baby?” Freddie went utterly still. Even his breathing seemed to stop. Just as Jim was getting certain he’d say no, instead he asked, “Do you mean it?” “Of course,” Jim said. Somewhat cautiously Freddie rested his hand on top of Jim’s again, so both of them had a hand on Freddie’s stomach. “I...Yeah,” he said, nodding as if to confirm it to himself. “Yeah,” he repeated, but then, sounding utterly agonised- “But- darling, I told you what the doctors said, remember? We don’t even know if I can have another one.” “When was the last time you got that checked?” Jim asked. “Right after I was given the all-clear after Theo’s birth,” Freddie admitted. “They told me it’d be difficult. It might be impossible.” Hoping to lighten the mood, Jim quipped, “Only one way to find out, right?” Freddie laughed, thank God, squeezing his hand. Humming a little to himself, he said, “I’ll have to book an appointment. I don’t want to get your hopes up, love.” Freddie had to wait nearly two weeks for an appointment and then he had to wait another week for the final results. He came home looking glum, tired, utterly fed up. He walked straight up to Jim- into Jim rater, resting his forehead against Jim’s chest. “Honey?” Jim’s arms automatically went around his husband’s waist as he mentally prepared himself for bad news. “The results haven’t changed,” Freddie mumbled. “They think I should be able to have a baby again, but they think I’ll have a hard time getting pregnant...and that I’ll have a hard time keeping it.” His voice cracked as he added, “I’m sorry, darling.” “Fred, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Jim said, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “These things just happen. ” Freddie suddenly shuddered, looking up at him with terrified eyes. “I- I nearly died having Theo. We both nearly died. Could it- do you think it’s because of that? Because of what he did?” And by “he” Jim knew he meant Paul Prenter. “I don’t know,” Jim admitted and by now it was surely too long ago to tell what damage had been done and how Freddie’s body had been before. “But, Freddie, it’s alright. We’ll be alright. Focus on the good thing- they say you should be able to have a baby, right? So let’s focus on that.” “...Okay,” Freddie whispered, finally returning the hug.
(Maybe, with such news, they shouldn’t have been let down when nothing happened. Maybe they shouldn’t have been so surprised at how long it took. But, as Jim would insist, what mattered wasn’t how long it took, but that they had a baby at all.)
1985 “Hey - let me welcome you ladies and gentlemen,I would like to say hello! Are you ready for some entertainment? Are you ready for a show? Gonna rock you, gonna roll you, get you dancing in the aisles. Jazz you, razzmatazz you, with a little bit of style- c'mon! Let me entertain you. Let me entertain you!” -Let Me Entertain You, Queen They all knew Bob Geldof was planning some sort of charity gig for the famine in Ethiopia- they just didn’t realise how damn big it had gotten, not at first. As the names of those invited to perform rolled in, as they got word of it taking place in America as well, they began to realise that this wasn’t just a charity gig. This was quickly turning into the show of a lifetime. And then Miami asked them to meet him at his office. “So, Bob called me,” he said, cutting right to the chase. “He wants you boys to perform at Live Aid.” Oh hell yes. Freddie looked at his boys and saw the same eagerness he felt on their faces, the same excited gleam in all their eyes. “As if we’re turning this down,” Roger said with a grin. “When’s the final list out?” “End of the week,” Miami said, but with a smirk he held up a sheet of paper. “Though he sent it ahead to me. Listen: Elton John, Paul McCartney, The Who, U2, Phil Collins, David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, Madonna, Kenny Loggins, Duran Duran…” “We get the point, darling,” Freddie laughed. Christ, he thought. That’s a lot of big names. “It’ll take place at Wembley over here,” Miami said. “And at JFK over in the States. It’ll be broadcast to 150 countries; thirteen satellites…” Looking very pleased, he added, “The Olympics only had three. ” Damn. This really was turning into the show of a lifetime. “We’ve never played to that many people before,” Deacy said, biting at a hangnail. “Think we can do it?” “We can do anything,” Freddie declared- and he meant it. Just look at what they had done so far. The four of them, he was sure, could do absolutely anything. Brian nodded in agreement, a satisfied smirk on his face. Roger sat up that little bit straighter, tucking his hair off his face. Deacy relaxed, shooting Freddie a smile. Grinning, Freddie turned to Miami. “Best call Bob back, darling,” he said. “Tell him Queen’s in.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
July 13th, 1985
Live Aid
“Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday. You got mud on your face, you big disgrace. Kicking your can all over the place. Singin' we will, we will rock you. We will, we will rock you.” -We Will Rock You,
Queen
Live Aid. Well, it really did end up being the performance of a lifetime. For once their entire families came with them; Chrissie and the kids, Dominique and Felix, Veronica and the kids, Jim and Theo, Phoebe and Joe, even Mary came along. The boys had sent them all on ahead and they crowded together in the wings, eagerly awaiting the moment that Queen was introduced.
For the moment though, the boys were crowded together in their trailer. It was a hot day so it quickly got stuffy. For a small trailer it was surprisingly comfortable and thank God that Bob had made sure there was plenty of water around. To Freddie’s amusement the trailer was painted gold both outside and inside and there were fairy lights all over the interior. Just his sort of thing really.
Roger was slapping out a beat on his knees, lips pressed tightly together. Deacy kept jiggling his leg up and down. Brian had his eyes closed, fists clenching and unclenching. Freddie couldn’t judge, he was just as jittery as them: he shifting in his seat, unable to sit still, humming under his breath and biting his lip.
They were all nervous. This was going to be broadcast
worldwide.
There were no special effects, no smoke machines and bright lights, no crazy costumes. It was just them with their instruments, dressed in their regular clothes. They’d all dressed relatively simply: Deacy wore a bright pink shirt with a bold pattern and blue jeans. Brian had a tight white button-up and black jeans. Roger went for a similar look, only his shirt was much looser, a size or two too big and black jeans. Freddie had a tight, low-cut white tank top on and light blue jeans. He hadn’t been able to resist adding a studded armband and matching belt though. Hey, he was Freddie (Hutton) Mercury, he had a reputation to uphold.
Still, it was a far cry from their usual stage looks. It was just...Just
them,
just four aging queens. Nothing more and nothing less.
And this wasn’t a Queen crowd, this was just
a crowd.
So many people weren’t here to see
them,
they were here for Elton or Bowie or any of the others.
Could they really wow a crowd like this?
“We’ll be okay,” Brian suddenly spoke up, opening his eyes. “We’re Queen. We can do it.”
“Damn right, darling,” Freddie smirked, forcing his nerves back. Of course they’d be fine. Hadn’t he said himself that they could do anything?
Well, now was the moment of truth: there was a knock on their trailer door and it was time to face the music.
All eyes followed them as they made their way to the stage. Stage hands nudged each other, pointed and whispered. One young man jumped like he’d gotten the shock of his life, one young woman gave a dramatic gasp, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away. From the corner of his eye, Freddie saw Roger smirk and stand a little straighter at the attention. He heard Deacy exhale shakily, saw Brian hold his head higher.
Freddie, thrumming with nervous energy, did his usual little exercises: he bobbed in place, swung his arms, punched the air in front of him. The closer they got to the stage the nosier it got, and they heard the announcers as they proclaimed to the world,
“Her Majesty- QUEEN!”
“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked quietly, poking him in the back with his drumstick.
And Freddie grinned, standing as tall as he could.
“Let’s knock them dead, darlings.”
“I won’t be a rockstar, I’ll be a legend,”
he’d said, once upon a time.
Time to live up to that.
“You had your time, you had the power. You've yet to have your finest hour. Radio...All we hear is radio gaga. Radio goo goo. Radio gaga. All we hear is radio gaga. Radio blah blah Radio, what's new? Radio, someone still loves you.” -Radio Gaga,
Queen
Honestly, Roger couldn’t believe the reaction of the crowd. There’d been cheers and shrieks when they came on stage, they’d been even louder when
Bohemian Rhapsody
started, but everyone,
literally everyone,
was clapping along to
Radio Gaga.
It was insane. This wasn’t
their
concert, this wasn’t
their
crowd and yet...Yet suddenly this
was
their crowd. The biggest crowd they’d ever faced and every single one of them was suddenly singing and clapping along, perfectly synced, word perfect, totally riveted. And he knew, deep down to his core, that it was like this all the world over.
He watched, grinning, as Freddie had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand in seconds. The cameraman looked as if he didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or flattered by the attention Freddie was giving him.
Omegas can’t be frontmen my arse,
he thought, grin widening. He hoped that asshole Ray Foster was watching and regretting his every life choice.
They’d never played a show like this before. Maybe they never would again.
He intended to enjoy every second of it.
The whole world was watching: now was the time to really show what they were made of- the stuff of legends.
He could have sworn Freddie knew what he was thinking, because his best friend shot him a mischievous grin and mouthed
“Watch me”
as he strutted to the front of the stage.
And then-
“Ay-oh!”
“AY-OH!”
The entire crowd, Queen fan or not, responded.
He could see the awe-struck look on Deacy’s face as his green-grey eyes swivelled everywhere, trying to commit every detail to memory. Brian looked like he couldn’t decide who he was more awed by: Freddie or the crowd. Roger shook his head with a fond grin, watching as Freddie, sweet tiny Freddie, enthralled the whole world.
And then, in what would become known as
“the note heard ‘round the world”
Freddie tilted his head back and belted out his loudest “ay-oh” yet, raising his arm, fist to the sky:
“AAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY-OH!”
The crowd copied him perfectly, many even raising their fists to the sky in the same way. Even the stage hands joined in, Roger could see them, hear them. He could see some people even had tears in their eyes.
Freddie, delighted, laughed at the response, bouncing in place as they launched into
Hammer To Fall.
Roger had to shake himself out of his awe to start playing. He felt like a member of the crowd or the audience in homes and pubs all over the world: totally and completely enthralled.
He didn’t want it to end.
“Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball. Don't stop me now. If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call. Don't stop me now ('cause I'm having a good time). Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time). I don't want to stop at all!” -Don’t Stop Me Now,
Queen
The second they got backstage, Theo hugged Freddie so hard he nearly knocked him over.
“Darling,
careful!
” Freddie laughed, just managing to catch himself.
“You
bastards!
” There was Elton, grinning at them, arms folded. “You stole it!”
“Too fucking
right
we did!” Roger said with a triumphant grin as Brian stooped down to hug his own children.
Maybe they shouldn’t be so smug, but damn it all, Brian couldn’t stop grinning. He’d seen one old man absolutely bawling his eyes out on his son’s shoulder in the front row. One girl was openly crying while her friend kept wiping her eyes, trying to stay composed. They’d literally driven people to
tears.
God. He couldn’t get over it. This didn’t feel
real.
When had any other show ever gone so well for them?
For twenty minutes they’d owned that stage, that crowd and maybe even the world.
Screw it, Brian decided. They had bragging rights.
“That was
amazing!
” Theo cried. Robert was clinging to Deacy, grinning fit to burst. “That was so cool,” Theo kept babbling. “Can you do that again?”
“Brimi and I will be on again later, love,” Freddie said, stroking the child’s hair. Theo was still attached to his waist like a vice. Jim had an arm around his shoulders, eyes shining.
“You gotta do that again,” Theo said firmly.
“Oh, we will,” Brian said with a grin. “Promise.”
“That was...Hell, that was…” Deacy couldn’t articulate it, shaking his head, still appearing awe-struck. “Did we really just do that?”
“We did,” Freddie said with a smirk. “We bloody
owned
it.”
“No one likes a sore winner,” Elton said, but he was still smiling.
“That
was
awesome, Dad,” Jimmy said, eyes bright. It only served to widen Brian’s smile as he ruffled his son’s hair.
“Thanks, buddy.”
There was rather a sense of
“Now what?”
nagging at him in the back of his mind. What were they supposed to do now? He didn’t want to sit down in their trailer until they went on again, he was full of energy now and wanted to keep moving. He wanted to keep playing. He never wanted to stop.
It wasn’t that Brian had thought they were going downhill or that they were stuck in a rut, but somehow this served to remind him just how much he loved being a musician. It reminded him how much he loved to play, how much he loved to perform.
If you’d told Brian he’d be playing to the whole world back in 1970 he’d either have laughed or ran away in sheer terror. Now he wanted to do it all over again.
He looked around at the three of them, at Freddie and Roger and Deacy and without a word he pulled them into a group hug.
“Give us some warning, Bri!” Roger laughed.
“I love you guys,” Brian blurted out. He immediately went red, but he
did,
he loved his three dramatic, big-hearted idiots- his
brothers
- so much it hurt. They were pack, they had been almost from the moment they met.
“We love you too, darling,” Freddie said.
“You’re alright,” Deacy smirked, though he tightly returned the hug.
“We’re going to keep knocking them dead,” Brian said with a certainty he’d never felt before. He almost wanted to tell everyone else to go away for a while, because surely an occasion like this called for one of their cuddle piles.
That could wait. For now they had to clean up, rest up, watch the show and get ready to go again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1987
“Being me can only mean feeling scared to breathe. If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything that makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down. Lets me face this, let me sleep...and when I wake up....Let me breathe.” -Afraid,
The Neighbourhood
“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”
“THEO,
STOP!
”
Robert was trying to pull him away but Theo thrashed and kicked, snarling. “TAKE IT BACK!” he screamed again, and Aaron Lester sneered right back at him, seemingly unaware of the blood gushing from his nose.
“It’s true,” he goaded. “Your
papa,
” (and
oh
but Theo
hated
the babyish tone Aaron put on when he mimicked his papa’s name) “got an innocent Alpha thrown in jail! My dad
told
me! He got Paul Prenter thrown in jail because he’s just a dumb
slut.
”
“SHUT THE FUCK
UP!
” Theo shrieked. He was barely aware of the crowd of kids gathering around them, jeering and cheering, calling for a teacher, shouting for them to hit each other. Robert lost his grip on Theo and Theo, true to form, lunged for Aaron again. His blonde classmate had presented as an Alpha only a month ago and he’d be damnably smug about it ever since. He loudly told everyone and anyone that his whole family were Alphas, like it somehow made his family better than everyone else’s.
Theo, sick of him, had snapped “We get the picture, now shut it, yeah?” only for Aaron to smirk.
“Jealous?” he’d asked.
“Of you? Hardly.”
“No, Mercury, jealous my family’s
better
than yours.” Aaron’s smirk turned into a sneer. “You’ve got an Omega slut for a dad and Roger’s got his other kids. Not very...inspiring.”
Stiffening, ignoring Robert’s hissed warnings to keep calm, Theo had turned on Aaron.
“What did you just call my Papa?” he’d demanded. Aaron shrugged, infuriatingly calm.
“What, didn’t you know? He got an innocent Alpha thrown in jail years ago. My dad says it was in
all
the papers. He tried to stay anonymous but anyone with half a brain
knows
it was him. My dad says it’s a disgrace, that Omegas belong on their backs. Says he was just scared of Roger finding out and that's why Roger dumped him.”
“That
wasn’t
my uncle,” Robert said with forced calm, already trying to tug Theo away. “It was just someone who worked for them, that’s what
my
dad says, and since he was
there
I reckon he’d know.”
“Your dad’s a liar,” Aaron taunted. He turned back to Theo. “And
your
dad’s a slut that got an innocent man arrested.”
And that was when Theo lunged for him in fury.
And now their teachers were trying to separate them, yelling at them to stop it, yelling at everyone else to leave.
“MY PAPA’S NOT A SLUT, YOU TAKE THAT
BACK!
” Theo screeched again.
“Is
that
what this is about!?” Mr Daniels demanded. He turned furious eyes on Aaron. “Mr Lester, I expected better from you,” he snapped, though Theo couldn’t think
why
he’d expect anything good from Aaron at all.
“To the headmaster’s office,” Mrs Johnson said coldly. “Both of you.
Now.
”
You could have cut the tension with a knife.
Theo slouched in his seat, in between Freddie and Jim. Aaron, nose now blood free, glared at the floor in between his mother and father.
As the headmaster, Mr Howard, explained what had happened, the Lesters steadily looked more and more unimpressed.
“That doesn’t sound like my Aaron,” Mrs Lester insisted, but Mr Howard only raised an eyebrow and said coldly, “We have numerous eyewitnesses that he
did
say all of that...And that he heard it from your husband.” His cold eyes went to Mr Lester, who went red at being lectured by a Beta.
Mr Lester drew himself up and glared at Freddie.
“Well it’s true isn’t it?” he demanded.
Theo looked at his papa, expecting a furious denial, but Freddie only stared at Mr Lester like he was a bug. Somehow that seemed more impressive. It was the same face he used on annoying reporters.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said cooly. For a moment Theo felt relieved- then he noticed how pale Freddie was, how tense and close to snarling Jim was and he felt frightened all over again.
“Don’t lie, you got an innocent Alpha sent to prison, you Omega slu-”
“Finish that sentence,” Jim growled.
“I dare you.”
Mr Lester had the sense to shut up. Mrs Lester looked like she agreed with her husband, but Mr Howard looked entirely fed up.
“We’re not here to discuss tabloid gossip,” he snapped. “We’re here to discuss the behaviour of your sons.”
“I’ll handle it,” Freddie said. “I promise.”
Mr Lester scoffed, reluctantly shutting up when Mr Howard frowned at him again.
“I’ll talk to Aaron,” he said and Theo didn’t believe him, not one bit.
He was willing to bet Mr Howard didn’t either, but he dismissed them anyway. Aaron shot Theo one last glare, Mrs Lester held her head high and Mr Lester was glaring at Freddie. Jim looked ready to hit him. Theo, fists clenched, took a step towards Aaron, but Freddie caught him by the shoulder.
“Alright,” he said, frowning heavily. “We need to talk.”
“I've been a liar, been a thief, been a lover, been a cheat. All my sins need holy water, feel it washing over me. Well, little one, I don't want to admit to something if all it's gonna cause is pain. Truth and my lies right now are falling like the rain. So let the river run.” -River,
Eminem ft. Ed Sheeran
“Theo, what in the world were you thinking!?” Freddie demanded as soon as they were in the car. “
Fighting!?
I’ve taught you better than that!”
“You
heard
what he called you!”
“That doesn’t mean you can hit him! You shouldn’t
ever
hit someone.” Freddie twisted around in his seat, eyes blazing. “You hear me? You’re
never
to put your hands on someone.”
“He’s not worth it, buddy,” Jim said with forced calm. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were going white.
“But he’s a liar,” Theo insisted. “He’s an asshole-”
“Language!”
Freddie snapped.
“He’s totally full of it, Papa! He wouldn’t shut up about you, or Roggie, or-” he had to pause to remember the guy’s name. “He kept saying you got some Paul Prenter guy arrested.”
And maybe, just maybe, if Theo wasn’t so worked up, if he wasn’t so angry and anxious, he wouldn’t have noticed how Jim tensed at the mention of that name, or how Freddie closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before answering.
“A man named Paul Prenter worked for the band, darling,” he said, a bit too slowly. “He was arrested for...for raping an Omega. Because he worked for us the tabloids said it must be me. They just wanted a story to sell- and Aaron just wanted to goad you into a fight. People like that aren’t worth it, love.”
Theo stared at him, locked in a stare-down. He looked away first, blowing his fringe out of his eyes.
“Got it,” he mumbled.
“Good,” Freddie said. “You’re grounded by the way.”
“
What!?
That’s so unfair!”
“Oh, it’s fair,” Jim said. “No fighting, you know the rules.”
“But-”
“No buts,” they both said and there was no arguing with those tones of voice.
Theo slouched in his seat, chin nearly on his chest, arms folded. Grounded. Awesome. He was just defending his papa, Aaron was so full of
shit.
But as he sat there, thought racing, his blood started to run cold.
“Papa…” he said slowly. “When did that guy get arrested?”
“1975,” Freddie said, throwing him a confused glance. “Why?”
“...Nothing,” he mumbled.
But it wasn’t nothing. He suddenly remembered what Freddie said when he asked about his dad....
“Your...Your daddy wasn’t nice, Theo. He had to go away. He hurt me and he would have hurt you if he stayed.”
...And it occurred to him in a rush that Freddie had never told him his father’s name.
Freddie had never told him
where
exactly his father went.
Roger wasn’t his birth father, he knew that. Neither was Jim, he knew that too, how could he not? Yet he’d seen his birth certificate and Roger’s name was listed on it. Why would Freddie lie about that to everyone, even the doctors?
So…
So who was his father?
Two days later...
“I don't need no arms around me, I don't need no drugs to calm me. I have seen the writing on the wall. Don't think I need anything at all. No, don't think I need anything at all. All in all it was all just bricks in the wall. All in all you were all just bricks in the wall.” -Another Brick In The Wall,
Korn
He was probably the worst son ever, Theo decided as he left the house. He’d told Freddie and Jim he was heading to the library, which was true. He told them it was for homework.
That wasn’t true.
He wanted to know more about Paul Prenter. It rubbed him the wrong way that even
Robert
had known what Aaron was blathering on about and Theo hadn’t.
He’d never really questioned Freddie on his father all that much. He’d just accepted what Freddie told him; that he was a bad man, that he had to go away. It had never occurred to him to ask
what
he’d done, to ask
where
he’d gone.
Was it possible his father was just some nameless jackass who’d hit Freddie one too many times?
(Or was it possible that…)
And wasn’t it weird that the press were convinced Roger was his father? Sure, they'd pretended to date, he knew that, but if Freddie had a boyfriend why hadn’t the press talked about him?
He more marched into the library rather than walked and immediately sought out the old newspapers. 1975...He was born too early in February 1976...He’d have to have been conceived in 1975…
Weren’t
Queen
at Ridge Farm in 1975? That would make sense if Roger
was
his father. But he wasn’t.
And when he found what he was looking for, when he found the articles about Paul Prenter’s trial, he felt sick.
QUEEN’S ASSISTANT ACCUSED OF RAPE!
PRENTER SENTENCED TO 14 YEARS IN PRISON!
QUEEN CALLED IN AS WITNESSES
RAPE OR AFFAIR? MERCURY REFUSES TO COMMENT
“Anonymous? Maybe not. More and more people are convinced that the accused, Prenter, did not just rape a random Omega assistant or intern, but that he raped Freddie Mercury himself. Mercury (pictured left) refuses to answer, only brusquely telling reporters to “get out of (his) face” while his boyfriend, Alpha Roger Taylor, has been heard blatantly giving reporters abuse. A simple “no” would suffice boys! But
is
it a “no”?
MERCURY BABY: TAYLOR’S OR PRENTER’S?
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that last headline. His hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped the paper. The room was spinning and he had to take a few puffs of his inhaler. Even then he couldn’t breathe and this time it wasn’t from asthma.
It wasn’t possible.
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be. He wasn’t Paul Prenter’s, he wasn’t,
he wasn’t.
The next thing he knew he was running from the library, tripping down the front steps, racing home.
“It burns for a moment, but- But then it numbs you. Takes you and leaves you just caught in the grey. In your deepest pain, in your weakest hour, in your darkest night, you are lovely.” -The Grey,
Icon For Hire
Freddie took one look at him, in tears and shaking, and went pale, hurrying over to him.
“Theo? Darling, what’s wrong, what happened?” Familiar arms wrapped around him, hugging him close. Theo wanted to relax into it, to cling to Freddie like he’d always done. To feel safe, to feel protected.
For the first time ever, he pushed Freddie away.
Ignoring the flash of hurt on Freddie’s face, Theo struggled to regain his breathing, to focus through the mounting panic.
“I’m not Roger’s,” he said abruptly.
Freddie, clearly confused, said, “No, but- but darling, you already knew that. What are you-?”
“Whose am I?” he demanded.
“Theo-”
“What’s his name?”
He watched as Freddie’s lip trembled, watched as he struggled to breathe steadily himself. All the little things began to total up: how Freddie had been so anxious all the time when Theo was little. How he sometimes flinched when someone (particularly tall men) moved towards him too quickly. How he got those random moods where he covered up much more than usual, even in the scorching heat. How he’d never offered Theo his father’s name, how all he said was that he’d hurt Freddie and had to go away.
How, even now, he couldn’t give Theo a name.
And it all came crashing down.
The tears fell faster as Theo demanded, “It was him, wasn’t it? Prenter?”
“No,” Freddie said, quickly shaking his head.
“No.”
“I’m his, aren’t I?” His voice was a horrified whisper; the hallway tilted and he wondered if he was going to faint. Freddie was white as paper, looking seconds away from collapsing himself.
“No,”
Freddie said. “No, you’re not.”
“Then whose am I!?”
“You’re
mine!
”
“And who else’s!?”
“Theo…” He was horrified to see the tears in Freddie’s eyes. “Theo, baby, please…” When Freddie reached for him again, Theo slapped his hand away. It couldn’t have hurt, not really, but he felt
sick.
I hit him,
he thought, terrified and horrified and everything in between.
I hit him, oh God I hit him, I HIT him, I’m just like HIM.
“Theo, darling…”
He ran for it, ignoring Freddie screaming his name. He shoved right past Phoebe coming through the front gate, running as fast as he could, until Freddie’s voice and footsteps were lost behind him.
He didn’t notice his inhaler fall from his jacket pocket.
“If I told you what I was, would you turn your back on me? And if I seem dangerous, would you be scared? I get the feeling just because everything I touch isn't dark enough, if this problem lies in me…” -Monster,
Imagine Dragons
He didn’t go to Robert’s house straight away. He wasn’t sure
where
he went exactly. It was all a blur of running and crying and panicking; screaming and swearing, punching a wall until his knuckles bled.
It was dark when he reached Robert’s; he didn’t go through the front door, he didn’t want Uncle Deacy to know he was there. He was suddenly sure that they all hated him; hated him for being
Prenter’s.
Because he was, wasn’t he? He
was,
just look at what he’d done: he’d hit Freddie, he made his papa
cry.
The amount of fights he got in, verbal or physical; his fiery temper always blazing out of control.
Once upon a time, he’d decided that the worst day ever was the day he found out Roger wasn’t his dad. He’d been wrong-
this
was the worst day ever. It couldn’t get any worse than this. He was some
rapist’s
son. Why in the hell had Freddie kept him? Why didn’t he hate Theo?
(Or did he?)
He couldn’t think straight anymore. Exhausted, gasping for breath, he climbed the tree outside Robert’s window, before reaching out to knock. Instantly, Robert pulled the curtains back; he looked pale and worried. He flung open the window, hissing, “
There
you are! For God’s sake, Theo, Uncle Freddie’s worried sick, he’s called the
police!
” He helped Theo climb into his room. Gasping, shaking, Theo went to tell him everything-
And only a rasp came out. His chest was too tight, it
hurt.
He knew the symptoms, he was having an asthma attack. He reached for his inhaler- and he would have screamed if he could have when he realised it wasn’t there.
“Theo?” Robert was staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. “Theo, where’s your inhaler?”
Theo could only shake his head, still making that awful rasping noise, still struggling to breathe, getting worse by the second. He didn’t realise he’d fallen until Robert caught him, trying to pull him onto the bed.
“DAD!” Robert screamed and it sounded all
funny,
all garbled and far away. “MUM! HELP! THEO NEEDS HELP!”
“THEO!?”
he heard Uncle Deacy shout- or he
thought
he did, because that didn’t even sound right, nothing sounded right and the room was spinning, there were black spots swirling around. He felt like he was going to vomit, his limbs felt all
heavy
and he couldn’t-
He couldn’t-
“P-Papa…” he gasped as Uncle Deacy and Auntie Ronnie burst in.
Deacy turned to Veronica and said-
something,
something that had her running away, turning into a blur as Deacy came and knelt in front of him, taking his hands.
“Theo?” he said urgently. “Theo, son, can you hear me?”
He
could
sort of, it was just that the words didn’t quite make
sense
anymore and Theo couldn’t
breathe
and he just wanted-
“Papa…” he mumbled again as he finally gave into the urge to close his eyes, collapsing in his uncle’s arms.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“No one deserves to be forgotten. No one deserves to fade away (to fade away). No one should flicker out, or have any doubt that it matters that they are here. No one deserves (no one deserves) to disappear. To disappear. Disappear.” -Disappear,
Dear Evan Hansen
Freddie could say, hand on heart, that he’d never been so scared. Against this, against his son pale and suddenly looking so
tiny
in a hospital bed, what had come before seemed like nothing. He even thought that he’d gladly go through Ridge Farm again if it just meant that Theo would be
okay.
He’d do anything, give anything, to keep his baby safe. To erase what had happened leading up to this. To erase the awful knowledge from Theo’s mind.
He couldn’t seem to stop crying.
He was at the stage where his breathing kept catching, he kept sniffling and his chest heaved. He should have been all cried out, but the tears kept coming. Not even Jim could calm him down. Freddie just sat there, holding one of Theo’s hands in both of his, never taking his eyes from his son’s face.
Jim, nearly as pale as Theo, looked like death warmed over. His hair was standing on end from how often he’d run his hands through it, his nails were bitten ragged, as were his lips.
Freddie didn’t know what he looked like. He probably didn’t want to know. If he looked anywhere near as bad as he felt then he likely looked like a corpse.
This was his fault. He could have prevented this somehow. He could have, should have, found some way to keep Theo safe. He should have come up with a name to give him, or found some way to make the truth less awful.
If he had fought Paul off in the first place this wouldn’t have happened-
no, no, no,
he was done thinking like that. He was better than that. He wasn’t in that dark place anymore.
Or maybe he was. The thoughts wouldn’t stop coming.
Damn it, what kind of father
was
he? Why hadn’t he protected his baby? Why hadn’t he kept Theo safe?
“Honey?” Jim stood, somewhat shakily, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m just heading to the toilets, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Freddie nodded, still looking at Theo, still watching his chest rise and fall. So long as Theo kept breathing it would all be okay. So long as Theo
lived
he could fix this. He’d find some way to fix this, he’d do
anything.
The window was open a crack; they were too far from the front of the hospital to hear the press but he knew, thanks to Deacy, that they were there. They were already swarming like vultures, like bloodhounds, sniffing out a story. God, if they thought they’d get away with harassing his son he’d ruin them. Let them say what they wanted about Freddie but if they in any way impeded Theo’s recovery he’d see them all
burn.
What now?
he kept asking himself. He knew he’d do anything to fix this, but what came next? How would Theo react when he woke up? The world had been turned upside down all over again; he was free falling again, thrown off orbit, torn away from safety and he was drowning again, completely terrified without a clue of what to do.
Shuddering, he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathin.
In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. In for four, hold for seven, ought for eight…
He remembered the first time Theo had seen him have a panic attack; the first time Theo had been old enough to understand anyway. Only four years old he’d hurried over, clutching his blanket and teddy bear. He ignored Roger, pushing past him to crawl into Freddie’s lap; he patted at Freddie’s tear-streaked cheeks with his blanket.
“It’s okay, Papa,” he’d lisped with a bright smile. “‘M here.”
That did Freddie in again: he burst into tears, sobbing so hard he lost his breath.
Good God how was he supposed to fix this?
“P-Papa?”
His eyes snapped open; Theo was staring right at, still too pale, eyes wide and frightened.
Still sobbing, Freddie held him tight, one hand tangled in Theo’s black hair, letting Theo’s head rest on his chest like he’d always done.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Slowly, with shaking arms, Theo returned the hug. “I’m sorry, Papa,” he whispered and Freddie wondered if Theo had even heard him at all.
“Don’t be,” Freddie said. “Don’t
ever
be sorry, you didn’t
do
anything, I- God, darling, I’m sorry. I love you, I love you so much, I’m
so
sorry.”
Theo began to cry and that was when Jim came back. His husband hurried over to them, holding them both close.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s alright. You’re both alright.”
It wasn’t alright, Freddie wanted to argue. He didn’t know how to make it right either.
But he’d do whatever it took.
“I don’t wanna see what I’ve seen. To undo what has been done. Turn off all the lights, let the morning come. Now there’s green light in my eyes and my lover on my mind. And I’ll sing from the piano, tear my yellow dress and cry and cry and cry…” -Over The Love,
Florence And The Machine
Jim held Freddie tight while his husband held their son tight; together they forced their way through the crowd of reporters, Deacy by their side, Miami waiting by the car with Joe. The press shouted over each other, demanding to know what had happened, why Theo had collapsed, if he was seriously ill or if it was just bad luck.
Just as they reached the car Freddie finally snapped. He seemed as tall as Jim when he rounded on the nearest reporter and snarled, “Get that camera out of my son’s face,
now.
” Startled, the man stepped back. Freddie genuinely looked
dangerous,
red in the face, eyes nearly black with rage, fists clenched, snarling.
It was the angriest Jim had ever seen him.
As soon as they were all in the car, Freddie slumped in his seat, still holding tightly to Theo. Jim held Theo’s hand, unwilling to look away from him, lest he vanish again.
Miami opened his mouth, but Freddie shook his head, closing his eyes tightly.
“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Just...don’t.”
Miami had the grace to keep quiet. Deacy looked near tears. Joe kept glancing back at them in the rearview mirror, biting his lip.
To say the ride to Deacy’s house was tense would be an understatement. When they got there, Deacy hesitated. After a moment he sighed before he got out, but then he opened the car door and leaned over to hug Theo quickly, to press a quick kiss into Freddie’s hair and squeeze Jim’s arm.
“Good night, guys,” he said softly and went inside.
They didn’t say a word on the way to Miami’s house either. His fellow Alpha only said, “I’ll handle the press, Fred,” as he got out of the car.
And then they had to head home. None of them knew what to say. None of them knew where to even begin.
“I wanna go to bed,” Theo eventually mumbled and Freddie let out a shaky laugh.
“Yeah, me too.”
As soon as they got home, Freddie ushered Theo to his room. Jim waited in their room, reeling from it all.
Theo knew. There was no changing that. There was no taking it back.
Theo knew and now they had to deal with the consequences- but what would those consequences be?
He didn’t even realise he’d been drifting off until he woke with a start. He rolled onto his side and checked the time; three am. And he was in bed alone. No Freddie.
“Freddie?” he called. “Honey?”
No answer.
Stumbling slightly, he went next door to Theo’s room.
And sure enough, there was Freddie, fast asleep with Theo in his arms. Theo was down for the count, snoring softly, pressed in as close to Freddie as he could be. In the dark it was almost impossible to tell where one of them started and the other ended. Their black hair mixed together on the pillows, and for once Theo actually looked small. Freddie looked even smaller. Both of them suddenly looked so impossibly fragile.
Jim looked at them, his husband and his son and he wanted to cry again. To weep and rage, to undo the last twenty-four hours. He wanted to hunt Paul Prenter down and rip his head off. He wanted to destroy every article that speculated that Prenter was Theo’s father and not Roger. He wanted to find anyone who believed those articles and shut them up for good.
He’s not Prenter’s!
Jim wanted to scream.
He’s Freddie’s, he’s Roger’s, he’s mine!
Theo Mercury was not Paul Prenter’s son, not in any sense of the word as far as Jim was concerned.
I’ll protect you,
he thought.
I’ll protect you both.
Much as he wanted to hold them both close there simply wasn’t enough room. Sighing, he softly shut the door behind him and went back to his room, praying for a miracle, praying that some magical way to sort this out would reveal itself.
It didn’t, of course. The night wore on, the sun rose and they had to face the truth.
“In my recovery I’m a soldier at war. I have broken down walls, I defined, I designed my recovery. In the sound of the sea, in the oceans of me, I defined, I designed my recovery.” -Recovery,
James Arthur
Theo woke slowly; Freddie was holding onto him, singing softly in Gujarati and for a moment he forgot what happened.
Then he opened his eyes and it all came rushing back. He immediately recoiled- or tried to. Freddie’s grip tightened.
“Theo, darling, no,” he said softly. “No more running off.”
“I’m sorry,” Theo said, suddenly near tears. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologising for. Sorry for running away? Sorry for collapsing like that? Sorry for being born in the first place?
Maybe it was a bit of everything.
“Don’t be,” Freddie said, smoothing Theo’s hair down. His smile was heartbreaking. “...We need to talk,” he said eventually.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Theo asked right away and Freddie sighed.
“Darling, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want
this
to happen. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I...I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want him to affect you and your life, I just...I wanted him to have nothing to do with you.” Freddie cupped his face in his hands, brown eyes blazing, locked on Theo’s hazel ones. “You’re mine,” he said firmly. “You’re
not
his. God, Theo, I...I can’t imagine not having you.
You’re mine
and...and maybe I could have done things differently. I’m sure there’s some things I could have done better, but I’m
happy
you’re mine, I promise.”
As hard as he tried not to, Theo was crying.
“He hurt you,” he sobbed. “
I
hurt you.”
“What? No you didn’t.”
“Yesterday I did! I hit you!”
“What?” Freddie laughed, a weak helpless thing. “Theo, love, if you call
that
a slap you’ve clearly never seen Brian and Roger fight!”
Despite himself Theo giggled, resting his head against Freddie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“...Why’d you keep me?” he eventually asked, bracing himself for what came next. He expected Freddie to push him away, to say he didn’t want him.
But Freddie just kept hugging him, kept running a steady hand through his hair.
“Because I wanted you,” he said. “I told myself it was stupid to be scared of my baby...and that settled it.”
“
Weren’t
you scared though?”
“Of you? No. Of him? ...Yes.” Freddie sighed, grip tightening momentarily. “But Theo, I promise you, none of this is your fault. I never blamed you. It was
him,
not you.
You
shouldn’t be sorry,
he
should.” Freddie scoffed. “Granted, he’s not, but that’s not on you or me either.”
“How do you know he’s not?” Theo asked, shifting slightly to look up at Freddie.
To his surprise Freddie looked embarrassed.
“Ah. Yes, I may or may not have visited him a few years back to tell him what I thought of him.”
“You
what!?
Papa!”
“I’m allowed tell him to go to hell,” Freddie said, which...okay, that was true.
And then a thought struck that made him want to vomit.
“Does he know about me?” he asked, barely able to get the words out.
“No,” Freddie said with no hesitation and that made Theo breathe easier.
“Okay,” he whispered. Clinging to Freddie he said, “Papa, I still have questions.”
Freddie smiled sadly, pulling him close again.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said. “We have time.”
By the end of the day Freddie booked him an appointment with a therapist.
“You know I used to go to one,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”
“But what if they tell?” Theo asked frantically.
“They won’t,” Freddie said with a certainty Theo wished he could feel. “I really think it will help, darling.”
Theo hesitated, shuffling from foot to foot.
Eventually he sighed, nodded and agreed. “Okay,” he mumbled. And then, “Can I have another hug?”
Freddie hugged him again and Theo wished he was small again, small enough to lift up and cradle. Small enough to not understand or even know who Paul Prenter was. Small enough to still think Roger was his dad. Small enough to think that things would always be okay.
Of course he stayed twelve and tall, clinging to his papa like he was the only safe space in the whole house, suddenly terrified to let him go.
And he silently vowed that if he ever saw Paul Prenter, he’d kill him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I would always open up the door, always looking up at higher floors. Want to see it all give me more (rise, rise up). I was always up for making changes. Walking down the street and meeting strangers. Flipping through my life, turning pages (rise, rise up).” -Rise Up,
Imagine Dragons
All things considered it was no wonder Freddie put the symptoms down to stress. A missed heat? That was almost routine by now. If he got his hopes up every time he missed a heat he’d have been disappointed hundreds of times by now. Throwing up in the mornings? Stress. Weight gain? Well he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. Headaches? Stress. Sore chest? That could be put down to stress too.
Then he had to bolt for the toilets during rehearsal as his stomach gave a sudden lurch.
Just as he was done throwing up, Roger came in holding a bottle of water and a small box of tic tacs.
“Figured these might help,” he said.
“You’re a darling,” Freddie rasped, gladly chugging the water down, tossing a few tic tacs in his mouth to get rid of the disgusting after taste. “Sorry about all that,” he added, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Think it’s the stress.”
“Trust me, Fred,” Roger said, sitting next to him on the floor. “No one blames you for being stressed right now.”
Right. Theo was in therapy and having some rotten mood swings; he swung between clinging to Freddie and lashing out, then isolating himself in a way that was so similar to Brian at his worst that it made Freddie panic. Because Theo knew the truth and there was simply no taking that back.
It had flipped everything upside down, it had made
everyone
panic. Jim hovered over them both more than ever, Phoebe was walking on eggshells, lost on how to help; Joe, bless him, was stress-cooking at all hours. Deacy, who’d had to watch Theo pass out, asked after him multiple times a day. Roger seemed to be thrown back into that state of eternal anger from 1975 and Brian was drooping terribly, lost in his own mind then suddenly up and about, trying to keep everyone and everything together.
Their crew, other than Miami and their PAs, were clueless; this wasn’t something they could talk about.
Well, he supposed he’d rather deal with nausea rather than constant anxiety attacks. Silver linings and all that.
A sudden pang in his chest had his folding his arms with a hiss, hands resting flat on his nipples. Nausea? Annoying, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. This on the other hand was...Come to think of it, the last time his chest had hurt like this had been…
“You okay?” Roger asked, sitting up straighter.
“Hm...My chest’s just been hurting, that’s all,” Freddie said. It was starting to nag at him, because he knew this pain, didn’t he? When he’d been pregnant with Theo, his chest had
ached
for ages.
Wait a second…
He saw the same realisation cross Roger’s face; their wide, stunned gazes locked. Freddie shook his head, already preparing to deny it, because
fuck
if this was real, if he was right, then this was
awful
timing.
“You don’t think…” Roger trailed off uncertainly.
“Couldn’t be,” Freddie said, though whether he was trying to convince Roger or himself he wasn’t sure. “I...No. I couldn’t be pregnant, not
now.
”
“You and Jim
were
trying before all this,” Roger reminded him gently, but Freddie shook his head again, wrapping his arms around himself, gripping his elbows tightly as he began to rock back and forth.
“I can’t be pregnant,” he repeated. “Fuck, Roggie, I
can’t,
I- I have to focus on Theo right now, everything’s already gone to shit, I
can’t-
”
“Shit, Fred,
breathe.
” Roger’s arms went around him as they’d done a million and one times before, pulling him close and letting Freddie rest his head on his shoulder, resting his own head on top of Freddie’s. “You’re alright. It’s alright, Freddie. It’s...It’s not good timing, I know, but remember how much you wanted another baby? This is a
good
thing, I promise you. This is something good to think about.”
“But Theo-”
“I don’t think he’ll be upset if that’s what you’re worried about,” Roger said.
“We don’t even know for sure if I’m pregnant,” Freddie pointed out, still in denial, still trying to calm his racing thoughts. How the hell was he supposed to take care of everything and handle a pregnancy on top of all of
this?
His son had just been traumatised, he needed to focus all his energy on Theo right now; Freddie hadn’t slept properly in weeks, hell,
none
of his family had. This was such shit timing, how would this even work out?
Roger tapped him on the arm, snapping him out of his own mind.
“That’s what tests are for,” he said, smile only slightly forced. “...You want us to come with you?”
He knew Garden Lodge would be empty: Theo was at school, Jim, Phoebe and Joe were all out today. If he was going to do this he’d rather not be alone.
Exhaling shakily, Freddie nodded and Roger helped him back to his feet and they went in search of Brian and Deacy.
“Oh, damn these walls. In the moment we're ten feet tall. And how you told me after it all we'd remember tonight, for the rest of our lives.” -Wings,
Birdy
Roger watched as Freddie paced up and down the bedroom, clutching Delilah to his chest.
“This is such bad timing,” he mumbled more than once. On one hand, Roger agreed with him. On the other hand, he remembered how much Jim and Freddie had wanted another baby; how they’d never really stopped trying. Surely, if those four tests were positive, Freddie would be happy? He hoped Freddie would be happy. He could use some cheering up, something good to think about and look forward to.
Freddie was right when he said things had gone to shit, but maybe this would be the boost he (and honestly, everyone) needed?
“Time’s up,” Brian said shakily, looking at his watch. Gulping, Freddie set Delilah on the bed and went to the bedside table where he’d laid the tests out. He looked- and just kept staring. Just as Roger was starting to get worried, Freddie let out the tiniest little, “Oh,” and sat down heavily on the bed, hands on his stomach.
“Fred?” Roger was by his side in an instant, craning his neck to look at the tests. Before he could get a glimpse at the results, Freddie said, “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, time seemed to freeze as they all stared at the tests.
“You’re...You’re happy, right?” Deacy asked hesitantly. Freddie didn’t answer. He had his eyes shut, hands pressing down on his stomach; Roger could see him going through his breathing exercises.
“Freddie?” Brian squeezed his shoulder, face creased in concern. “Fred, are you okay?”
Freddie didn’t answer for a moment; after a few more deep breaths, he opened his eyes. Roger had expected him to look frightened, as he had earlier. But no. His eyes were blazing and Roger knew that stubborn set to his jaw all too well.
“I can do this,” he said, glaring straight ahead, defying the world itself, or so it seemed. “I can do this,” he repeated and Roger grinned at him; Deacy noticeably relaxed with a smile and Brian’s eyes shone.
“Damn right you can,” Roger said, hugging him close, quickly joined by Deacy and Brian. The four of them clung together on the massive bed and Roger couldn’t take his eyes off Freddie; how determined he looked. It was a turn-around from that morning.
And it was a world away from his first pregnancy.
But if Freddie could handle that, Roger had no doubt he could handle this too.
Freddie had no idea how to tell Jim. Was he supposed to shout it out the second he got home, keep it quiet or what? One thing was for sure he’d better do it fast before the others figured it out first; Theo was already sniffing around him, frowning.
“You smell funny, Papa,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Uh-huh...It’s sorta stronger…”
“Hm, must be a heat,” Freddie lied, which thankfully Theo accepted.
Jim first, then Theo,
he reminded himself.
Still, the wait was driving him nuts.
After Theo closed himself off in his room to do homework, and Phoebe and Joe were making dinner, Freddie waited nervously in the living room for Jim to materialise. As soon as he heard the front door open he ran into the hall and straight into Jim’s arms.
“Well, that’s a warm welcome,” Jim laughed. One look at Freddie’s anxious face had the smile vanishing from his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “Is it Theo?”
“No, it’s…” Freddie trailed off, shaking his head. He tapped his fingers on Jim’s chest before managing a smile; he took Jim’s hand and led him to the stairs. “I’ve something to show you, darling.”
“Is something wrong, Fred?”
“No,” he said. “It’s...It’s good.” Christ, he
hoped
it was good, he hoped Jim would be happy. He hoped
everyone
would be happy.
He hadn’t bothered hiding the tests; he’d left them on the bedside table. Jim spotted them right away and his mouth dropped open.
“Freddie…” he said slowly, but before he could say any more, Freddie nudged him forward.
“Well don’t say anything until you actually
look.
”
Jim moved forward slowly, awkwardly, like he was afraid to look- but when he saw the results his face lit up.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered and Freddie had never heard him sound so awed. He looked near tears, grinning fit to burst.
“Ta-da,” Freddie said with a (still nervous) giggle- which turned into genuine laughter when Jim picked him up and spun him around.
“You’re
pregnant,
oh my God, Freddie!”
“You’re
what!?
”
Oh dear.
There was Theo, standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open. His eyes were glued to Freddie’s stomach.
“...Surprise?” Freddie said weakly.
Theo just kept gaping.
“Theo, son, are you okay?” Jim asked. He reached out for him and Theo’s nose wrinkled.
“Oh,
gross,
you guys had sex!” Theo burst out.
That did it; Freddie burst out laughing, falling onto the bed.
“It’s not funny, Papa, that’s so gross!”
That did Jim in. He sat next to Freddie, face buried in his hands as he laughed.
“You’re brilliant, Theo,” Freddie gasped. He held his arms out. “Come here, darling.”
Thankfully, Theo did. He hurried over, sitting on Freddie’s other side, pressing in close. His hand cautiously hovered over Freddie’s stomach and he smiled when Freddie took his hand, linking their fingers together over his stomach.
“I’m not changing any nappies,” Theo said, still staring at Freddie’s stomach like he expected a bump to appear any second or for the baby to start kicking right then.
“Hm, that can be Jim’s job, darling,” Freddie teased, grinning all the wider at Jim’s offended,
“Oi!”
But Jim was smiling; so was Theo. They were both holding onto him, both of them the most relaxed Freddie had seen them in weeks.
He
felt relaxed. Maybe Roger had been right after all; it was something good to look forward to.
No, this hadn’t been part of the plan; it was the last thing he expected. But right now, as all the darkness was momentarily forgotten, as he ran through a mental checklist of what he had to do now, Freddie couldn’t bring himself to care. This time, he knew what he was doing. And just like last time, he wasn’t alone; this time, his family was even bigger.
And as he took in Theo’s awed smile, Freddie decided that maybe this was good timing after all.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“When you feel my heat look into my eyes; it’s where my demons hide. It’s where my demons hide. Don’t get too close, it’s dark inside. It’s where my demons hide. It’s where my demons hide.” -Demons,
Imagine Dragons
He was quite pleased with how the song was going so far. He hoped Mary would like it; now if he could just perfect the chorus he’d gladly head to bed. He was exhausted but the song was stuck in his head, begging to get out.
Then Paul walked in, reeking of whiskey on top of his usual scent.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Freddie asked, expecting Paul to snap or say something sarcastic. Dressed only in a thin pair of white pyjamas with short sleeves he suddenly felt very exposed as Paul looked him up and down.
“Nah, don’t worry about it, I couldn’t sleep,” Paul said and sat heavily on the sofa across the room. “Mind if I join you?”
“I...I suppose not…” Freddie said. He was being daft to feel so nervous, he told himself. Paul had lost interest, it was obvious to all of them. Still, that didn’t mean Freddie wanted Paul to be staring at him, or to hang around for too long.
Just finish the chorus then head to bed,
he told himself and began to play again, but as he sang, Paul interrupted.
“That’s beautiful,” he said. “What’s it called?”
And Freddie couldn’t help but smile when he thought of how happy Mary would be that he actually listened to her request for
“something sweet and sad.”
“Love Of My Life,”
he said. “It’s for Mary.”
“Mary?” Paul’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were with Roger.”
“Well, yes.” (No) “But Mary asked if I could write a love song, so...why not, right?”
“If you say so,” Paul scoffed and Freddie had had enough. As Paul walked over to the piano, leaning over Freddie to put his cigarette out on the ashtray, Freddie grit his teeth and stood.
“I’d better be getting to-”
And Paul grabbed him, kissing him so hard that Freddie stumbled backwards. For a moment he froze, petrified; he’d thought Paul had lost interest. He’d stopped staring at Freddie so much, he’d stopped looking for excuses to touch him entirely, he backed down when Roger glared at him. He’d thought Paul was
done.
The shock only lasted a moment; he pushed Paul away, small hands flat on the Alpha’s chest, glaring up at him.
“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t you…” He shook his head, backing away. “I’m going to bed,” he snapped, already planning on hurrying to the “spare room” where he knew Roger would be. “Leave me alone,” he added. He started to march off, head held high.
He shouldn’t have turned his back. He heard Paul growl, felt those large cold hands on him as he was shoved to the ground; he landed on his front, but Paul grabbed him by the hair and flipped him onto his back. Freddie opened his mouth to scream, but Paul, still holding his hair, bashed his head against the wooden floor, one, two, three, four, five times…
His head was throbbing, the room was spinning; when he tried to scream again he only managed a pained groan.
“Right then,” Paul hissed, one hand tight on Freddie’s neck. “You asked for this.”
And he shoved one hand down Freddie’s pyjama top and
pulled;
it ripped open, buttons scattering everywhere-
He woke up screaming.
“Freddie? FREDDIE!?” Jim was trying to hold onto him, but he was still screaming, still thrashing and kicking out.
“DON’T!” Freddie screamed; he pressed his hands against his mouth, trying to muffle himself, trying to
stop.
“Okay,” Jim sounded breathless, frightened. He held his hands up in surrender. “Freddie? Sweetheart, it’s just me, see? You’re alright. It’s just a nightmare.”
“No it wasn’t,” Freddie rasped and he’d never been so glad that Theo slept like the dead, or that Joe and Phoebe’s bedrooms were so far down the hall. He thought he might honestly die if he had an audience for this.
(And Christ, Theo was still struggling as it was, if he saw Freddie melting down over a flashback that would just make things worse, Freddie had no doubt about it.)
“What do you mean?” Jim asked. This time, when he pulled Freddie closer, Freddie let him, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“It was Ridge Farm,” Freddie admitted in a whisper; his emotions were a swirling mess, but mostly he felt
embarrassed.
He’d stood up to Paul, he’d looked him dead in the eye and told him to go to hell, so why was he having nightmares and flashbacks
now?
Without thinking about it, his hand went to rest on his stomach, starting to swell properly. They wouldn’t be able to hide it from the press much longer; he didn’t look forward to them hounding him again…
Oh,
he thought. Shit. The last time he’d been pregnant had been
because
of Paul. Reluctantly, he supposed it made sense that his body, his mind, would associate being pregnant with...Well, with being raped.
He saw the same realisation on Jim’s face; his husband looked so
sad,
and tired and smaller somehow.
“Do you...Do you think it’s because of the baby?” he asked, like he expected Freddie to explode and say no.
But Freddie nodded tiredly, slumping more against him. “I think so,” he said, and he had the sinking feeling he’d have to book an appointment with a therapist himself if this kept up.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jim asked, running a hand up and down his waist.
For a moment he wanted to say no. He’d never given Jim all the details (he didn’t think he ever would; if he had to repeat the things Paul had said he’d only burst into tears of humiliation), but...but maybe talking
would
help, even if it was only a little bit.
Bottling it up had never gotten him anywhere, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath, feeling like he was about to dive off a cliff, Freddie nodded.
“I...I wasn’t dreaming of all of it,” he started; Jim’s hand, still running soothingly up and down steadied him. “I told you before, I was working on a song when he came in- that’s the part I was remembering. The start of it…”
“It's okay not to be okay. Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart. Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising. Just be true to who you are.” -Who You Are,
Jessie J
It was a lazy Saturday evening; the kind where they rented movies, made stupid amounts of popcorn and lounged around all night. Freddie, who was far too tired and too sore to join them, waved Theo and Jim out the door, telling them only to “At least
try
not to rent anything too cheesy.”
Which was how Jim found himself driving to the video store with an oddly quiet Theo next to him.
“You okay, buddy?” he asked, only getting a small nod in return.
The thing about Freddie
and
Theo was that they were both dead obvious when they were upset, even if they thought they were being subtle. They both slouched, they both pouted with their arms folded and avoided eye-contact.
And Jim didn’t know what to do. As Freddie’s pregnancy progressed (four months in now!) Theo got quieter and quieter. He hovered around Freddie more, like he was scared Freddie would go into labour at any second, but other than that...He barely responded when anyone else tried talking to him. It got to the point that Jim and Freddie even got Deacy to ask Robert if he knew what was going on, but for once Theo’s best friend was as clueless as the rest of them.
“You can pick the movies,” Jim offered once they arrived. Theo smiled at him, but stayed quiet.
That did it. Jim was a blunt man to the point that it threw people off; they expected someone so shy to dance around difficult subjects. But this was his
son
and he was clearly hurting;
something
was upsetting him and Jim intended to find out what. Part of him argued that if Theo wouldn’t confide in
Freddie
then he certainly wouldn’t tell Jim what was wrong, but he had to
try,
and what better time than when they actually had some privacy?
He was sneaky enough to wait until they were back in the car, driving home, to bring it up.
“You okay, Theo?” he asked, careful to keep his eyes on the road (besides, even if he could look at Theo, he knew staring the child down would only put him on the defensive).
“I’m alright,” Theo said. “...Why?” he added suspiciously.
“It’s just...We’ve noticed that you’ve been- well, really quiet lately. You seem upset. Is everything going okay at therapy?”
“It’s fine,” Theo said. “We’re working on some stuff to help with my temper and all.”
“That’s good,” Jim smiled. “But you seem
sad,
not angry.”
“...I’m alright,” Theo repeated and Jim held back a sigh.
“Look, Theo, I’ll be blunt,” he said. “You don’t seem alright. Whatever’s going on you can
tell
me. You can tell anything and if it’s something you don’t want to tell your Papa yet, I promise not to tell him, okay? Come on, buddy, you’re my
kid,
I promise I won’t get mad.”
“But that’s just
it,
” Theo burst out and Jim chanced a glance at him; he was wide-eyed, fists clenched, but he still looked more upset than angry. “I mean- the baby’s your kid,” Theo continued. “I’m...I’m
Prenter’s.
You guys...
You...
You’re gonna want this baby more…”
“Not a chance,” Jim said right away. “Jeez, Theo, when we first met I was terrified
you
wouldn’t like
me.
”
“What, really?” Theo said, sounding the tiniest bit pleased.
“Completely terrified,” Jim confirmed. “And Theo- I love you to bits. As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine, I hope you know that. This baby isn’t going to change that. Sure, they’ll need more attention, I won’t lie to you- but that doesn’t change how much I love you. How much we
all
love you. This baby’s my
second
kid;
you’re
my first.”
“...Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jim said with a smile. One more quick glance at Theo showed he was smiling now; a small, shy smile and much better than his previous frowns and pouts.
“I love you,” Jim said again to drive the point home. He’d say it as many times as it took.
“Love you too,” Theo mumbled, still smiling that tiny pleased smile.
“Good,” Jim said with a grin. “Remember that.”
And later that night, as they sat through their third movie (while Joe complained that the jokes were terrible), Theo, half-asleep, leaned against Jim. Smiling, Jim wrapped an arm around, while his other hand held Freddie’s, idly playing with his fingers.
So. Things weren’t perfect. They still had a lot of problems to sort through before the baby arrived, but Jim didn’t doubt they’d manage it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We've got to trust in one another or there'll be no more future at all. Yeah! (Time waits for nobody) No! No! (Time don't wait for no-one) Let's learn to be friends with one another or there'll be no more future at all.” -Time Waits For No One,
Freddie Mercury
Not long to go and a letter from Jim’s niece Bridget arrived; she was getting married. Jim, Freddie and Theo were all invited.
Jim felt awful for having to decline, but the doctor had warned them against travelling so late in the pregnancy- and even if it
was
okay, Freddie was so exhausted and in pain. It would be cruel to force him onto a plane and then shove him into a car for hours and
then
let him deal with the madness of Jim’s extended family.
And for all that Freddie protested that it was okay for
Jim
to go without him and Theo...He couldn’t. He wanted to be here, to keep an eye on Freddie, to look after Theo when Freddie was too tired to do so. Of course he’d love to go to Bridget’s wedding,
of course
he would, he was so happy for her...But this came first. He wouldn’t leave Freddie’s side until their daughter was safely delivered.
Part of him still couldn’t believe it. They were having a little girl, they’d decided on her name and everything. Jim had insisted on making the nursery furniture himself (Theo helped paint it, bless him) while Freddie designed a sort of fairytale landscape for the nursery walls. The smell of the paint made him run from the room to throw up so, unhappily, he’d agreed to let professionals paint his design.
Things were going smoothly all things considered. Theo finally seemed happier, gradually getting excited.
Everyone
seemed happier.
But Jim still couldn’t help but worry about Freddie. He’d had to go back on anxiety medication for a while; the nightmares disturbed his rest for weeks. If it wasn’t nightmares it was nausea. If it wasn’t nausea it was a migraine, or a backache or his feet ached- or it was all of the above on truly terrible days.
No, Jim would be staying exactly where he was.
November 1st, 1987
“If this was an apocalypse I would not need any tips in how to stay alive. But since the zombie army's yet to descend and the period is going to end, I'm just trying my best to pass the test and survive! Survive!” -More Than Survive,
Be More Chill
It was unusual for Freddie to be up so early, let alone on his day off, but with the baby kicking so hard he didn’t stand a chance of falling back asleep. It was just after eight in the morning and for once he joined Jim, Phoebe and Joe at the breakfast table.
He was exhausted. Don’t get him wrong, he was
happy,
but just then he’d have given his right arm for an undisturbed sleep. Honestly, the flashbacks and nightmares stopped only for the baby to kick at him like she was getting paid for it.
Another sharp kick left him wincing, his hand flying to his stomach as if that would calm her down.
“Maeve, I swear to God,” he said tiredly. “I know you can hear me in there, missy; I promised pancakes if you stopped kicking.”
“I don’t think she understands bribery yet, Fred,” Jim laughed.
“Worth a shot.”
He could hear Theo coming down the stairs, more stomping than walking; with the kitchen door hanging open the
smell
hit him before Theo even appeared.
“Oh, what timing,” Freddie sighed.
And here we go...
“No one talk to me,” Theo snapped as he made his way to the cupboard. He pulled it open with way too much force, pouring cereal into the nearest bowl with a glare. The scent was rolling off him in
waves.
Theo was in rut. Theo was an Alpha.
Of course
he was.
“Theo, baby…” Freddie began. Theo frowned at him. Freddie raised an unimpressed eyebrow, waiting for Theo to calm down.
“Have you smelled yourself, buddy?” Joe asked.
“What’re you talking about?” Theo snapped, scowl deepening.
“Theo,” came Jim’s warning tone and Theo finally paused. He sniffed his own wrist. The poor thing’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“Oh,” he said weakly. “Er...sorry?”
“I’ll make more tea,” Phoebe offered. As he bustled about, Theo just looked more and more bewildered and uncomfortable.
“Are you okay, darling?” Freddie asked. He patted the seat next to him; still clutching his cereal bowl, Theo all but fell into it. He nodded, looking a little uncertain. After a moment’s hesitation he scooted closer. And closer. Freddie knew that look; he held his arms out and Theo didn’t hesitate to hug him tightly. His head was on Freddie’s chest as usual; the baby bump made things more awkward, but it at least seemed to calm Theo somewhat.
“I feel pissed,” Theo admitted.
“That’s normal, don’t worry,” Jim reassured him. “Everyone’s temper goes up during rut, son.”
“Well, I can’t exactly give an Alpha talk, but that sounds about right,” Freddie said. He shifted as Maeve kicked again; Theo must have thought he was going to leave because he suddenly growled, hanging on for dear life. “Theo? Darling, I’m not going anywhere, it’s alright.”
Another growl was his only response. Well, Theo had always been clingy; add on that it was his first rut
and
that he was around a pregnant Omega? Poor kid was in for a rough few days.
Phoebe set a large cup of tea in front of him; lots of sugar, not much milk, the way Theo liked it. Still frowning, Theo sipped at it. He looked, for all the world, like a sad kitten. He put Delilah to shame.
A little awkwardly, Jim spoke up; “Okay, we’ve explained how heats and ruts work before, Theo, but...if you have any questions I’ll answer.”
“Not really,” Theo said. He shot an almost embarrassed glance around the room and said, “Maybe later.” He gulped his tea like his life depended on it before hiding his face in Freddie’s chest again.
Maeve kicked again, causing Theo to groan, “Knock it off, Maeve.”
“Exactly what I was saying,” Freddie sighed.
November 16th, 1987
“Mama take this badge from me. I can't use it anymore. It's getting dark too dark to see. I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door. Knock knock knockin' on heaven's door.” -Knocking On Heaven’s Door,
Raign (cover)
Maybe he should have expected it. He’d felt
off,
right from the moment he woke up. He felt like he was expecting something to happen. His stomach started to twinge after lunch, but Freddie didn’t think much of it; after all, he always felt sick after eating now.
But then, as they finished recording for the day there was a sudden, sharp,
stabbing
pain and he doubled over with a groan just as water gushed to the floor.
“Oh shit,” Deacy gasped and Freddie struggled to say anything when another stab of pain hit him. All things considered, he’d rather this over last time. This was better than the sudden wave of blood at Theo’s birth, this was better than losing consciousness...But was it meant to hurt this much so soon? And it was a month early, that couldn’t be good, could it? It was better than two months early, but it was still
early.
Had he done something wrong?
“Freddie, we’ve gotta go to the hospital.” Brian had him by the arm, leading him to the door as Roger raced ahead. Deacy took Freddie’s other arm and Freddie wanted to tell them to call Jim, to get Jim
now please,
but all that escaped when he tried was a strangled gasp.
Thank God, Brimi had the presence of mind to tell Miami to call Jim. Their poor manager had gone white as a sheet but he nodded and ran in search of a phone.
Roger drove like a madman. Freddie was pretty sure they ran a red light. And all the while the pain just kept growing and the fear grew with it. This wasn’t normal, surely? Wasn’t the pain meant to be minor at first? That was what he’d heard. Was it all going wrong again?
He’d hoped beyond hope that Jim would already be at the hospital, but he wasn’t. The midwife took Freddie’s hand with a, “Come on now, lovie, let’s get you sorted,” and Freddie just- he couldn’t do this alone, he
couldn’t,
he wanted his husband but Jim wasn’t there yet and this was all happening too early, too fast and-
His frightened eyes locked on Roger’s equally frightened baby-blues, before his best friend got that familiar stubborn glare as he elbowed past Brian to take Freddie’s hand.
“I’m going with him,” he told the doctors as if he expected a fight. They didn’t give him one. Another contraction had Freddie nearly losing his balance so they only nodded in agreement. Brian and Deacy hurried after them, but were forced to stay outside. Part of Freddie wanted to say,
“No, wait, please, can’t they come too?”
because he was so damn scared that it was all going to go wrong again and they were his
pack,
they were his, they always
always
managed to make him feel safe, no matter how scared he was. They always called him brave and they made him feel like he was.
But he didn’t get a say, they wouldn’t let that many people in and soon it was all Freddie could do to focus on what the midwife was telling him past the ever-growing pain and over his own screams.
“It’s okay,” Roger soothed. “Jim’ll be here soon, Fred, I promise, it’s gonna be alright.”
And sure enough, Jim came running in shortly after. Freddie wasn’t sure how long it had been since they left the studio anymore; it felt like a whole week had passed already.
“Oh God, honey!” Jim gasped. He raced to Freddie’s other side, across from Roger, and grabbed his free hand. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said and Freddie didn’t give a damn that he was late so long as he was
there.
Jim’s scent washed over him and he rested his head on Jim’s chest; some of the tension left him, letting him breathe a little easier.
Roger started to pull away. “I can-”
“Don’t go!” Freddie grabbed his hand again, hanging on tight. “Roggie, please don’t go.”
Roger looked down at him; he was clearly scared too and Freddie forced himself to stay quiet, to stay still and hold Roger’s gaze.
“Okay,” Roger said softly. He nodded as though to confirm it. “I’ll stay, don’t worry.”
And it did help. Having both of them there helped more than he could say, but he was quickly overwhelmed by just how hard it was. Last time, he’d passed out from blood loss. Last time, Theo had to be cut out of him. He couldn’t remember most of it, but he
did
remember how much it hurt. This was terrifyingly close to that level of pain.
That couldn’t be normal.
And no matter how much he pushed it felt like nothing was
happening.
“I can’t do it,” he sobbed, falling back. “Darlings, I
can’t.
”
“Of course you can,” Jim said, squeezing him tighter. “I know you can, sweetheart.”
“You can do anything,” Roger said fiercely.
And Freddie believed them.
“Nearly there, honey!” the midwife cried. “I can see her head!”
One more push and-
And-
He couldn’t tell what was happening. He was faintly aware of alarms going off somewhere; his hands were empty, where had Jim and Roger gone? The room was spinning, he couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than a couple of seconds, black dots were dancing across his vision. When had it gotten so cold in here?
Why could he smell blood?
Dimly, as if from very far away, he could hear a baby crying. Struggling to understand, his first thought was
Theo?
and then,
No, Theo’s louder than that.
Who was that?
Maeve?
A sharp flash of reality hit; he remembered where he was. It was 1987, not 1976. That was his daughter crying, not his son. Theo was safe at school. But Maeve was crying. Why was she crying, what was wrong with her?
He wanted to reach out and take her; he wanted to force his eyes open so he could find her, but everything
hurt,
it hurt more than he could believe and he couldn’t breathe.
What was going on? Where had Jim and Roger gone? Where was his baby, why wouldn’t they give her to him?
There was one last surge of pain; it was all he was aware of. Reality washed away and it was just him, lost in the dark, in a sea of unending pain and he thought,
Is she okay?
before Freddie let the dark and quiet envelope him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Will they tell your story? Time…Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? Time…Will they tell your story? Time… Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” -Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story?,
Hamilton
Theo had been so excited when Uncle Phoebe and Uncle Joe came to collect him from school.
“Maeve’s on the way,” Phoebe said with a grin and Theo raced ahead of him to the car. Sure, he knew giving birth could take ages, but he was sure his Papa could manage it in no time at all; Maeve would be here soon and he’d get to brag about having a baby sister. He’d get to live up to his promise to help look after her.
He didn’t expect to hear screaming and crying.
“Oh no,” Joe breathed. He ran ahead; Phoebe hovered uncertainly. He had Theo by the shoulder and he looked like he wanted to usher Theo back down the corridor, back downstairs and to the car.
Theo wouldn’t let him. He shook free and
ran.
It was bad, that much was obvious. His dad was on his knees on the floor, bent over double; he was biting down on his fist as he rocked back and forth, making an awful keening noise, an animalistic cry. Brian was trying to talk to him, trying to pull him to his feet, but it was like Jim didn’t hear him. He just kept rocking and making that awful noise.
Roger wasn’t much better. He was on his knees too, sobbing so hard that he started to choke. Deacy was hugging him, begging him to explain what had happened, but it was no good; he just kept crying.
Papa’s dead, Maeve’s dead, they’re both dead, oh God they’re DEAD.
Sudden tears filled his eyes. He wanted to reverse time to that morning; he wanted to hug Freddie a second time and return his “I love you” instead of wrinkling his nose. He wanted to reverse time to just a few minutes ago, when he was so excited to be a big brother.
“Dad?” he managed to choke out- and somehow, that was what got through to Jim. His head snapped up; when he saw Theo he struggled to his feet and enveloped him in his arms, holding on tight. “Dad?” Theo repeated, but Jim only sobbed. Brian’s face just
crumpled
at the sight of him.
“What’s going on?” Joe demanded.
“We don’t know,” Jim said, voice cracking as he continued to cry. Theo wanted to scream but all that came out was a broken whimper.
“I want my papa,” he mumbled, even as he clung to Jim for dear life.
“I’m sorry,” Jim sobbed and Theo didn’t know what he was apologising for, but all it did was scare him even more. He wanted Freddie. He wanted to beat that damn door down and run to his papa.
Slowly, bit by bit, Jim and Roger calmed down enough to explain what was going on. They thought it was a hemorrhage, or maybe something tore, but there’d been a lot of blood. The doctors had taken Maeve away; she was crying, so they thought she was okay, but the doctors wouldn’t answer when they asked. They’d just hurried past, barking orders at each other.
And they had no idea how Freddie was at all.
Theo knew he was crying and he hated it, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He sat, nearly in Jim’s lap, bawling on his dad’s shoulder.
“Pheebs, maybe take him home,” Joe whispered and Theo wasn’t having it.
“No!”
he half-shouted half-sobbed. “No, I have to stay!”
They looked to Jim. Theo wanted to beg him to let him stay, to not send him home, but he didn’t have to; Jim just held him tighter and nodded.
“Okay,” he said, hoarse from all the crying. “Okay, you can stay.”
Roger had no idea how long they all sat there. He knew he should probably call Dominique and tell her what was going on. He should probably call Mary so she could come sit with them. He should
definitely
call Freddie’s parents and sister and tell them what had happened.
He couldn’t summon the strength to move. He couldn’t find his voice. He just sat and stared straight ahead, still hearing Freddie’s screams, still seeing the blood. There’d been so
much
of it.
I didn’t protect him again.
Suddenly, a pale hand was holding a paper cup of coffee and he looked up into Theo’s red rimmed eyes. The boy’s black hair curled about his shoulders; he looked paler than ever, so his freckles stuck out. His lip was trembling, seconds away from crying again. Roger blinked and glanced around; all the others had water, tea or coffee, taking tense sips and all looking as bad as he felt.
He looked at Theo again and was hard pressed not to cry again. “C’mere, little man,” he murmured, holding an eye out. Theo hugged him, balancing the coffee. Roger clung to him, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.
“He’s a fighter, your dad,” Roger told him. “It’ll be okay.”
Theo nodded and Roger wondered if he believed him at all.
“Can you medicate a broken heart? Make your tragedies a work of art. Medicate a broken heart, build your walls up just to rip them apart. Is this the way to fix this or is this a quick fix? I really couldn't say. Can you medicate, medicate, medicate it away?” -Medicate,
Gabbie Hanna
Jim forgot his watch, so he wasn’t sure how long it had been. It had taken nearly eleven hours for Maeve to be born, but from then to now? He wasn’t sure. There was no clock on the walls that he could see.
Jim just wanted to collapse from exhaustion. Every time he tried to make Theo go home he was met with furious protests and he simply didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. His thoughts were a mantra of
Freddie, Maeve, Freddie, Maeve.
Then a doctor approached them. “Mr Hutton?” he said and Jim thought,
Oh God, this is it, I have to plan two funerals,
but the doctor, a grey haired man with a crooked nose said, “I’m afraid I have no update on your husband, but your daughter is in perfect health. I can take you to see her now.”
Just like that he was trying not to cry again. Maeve was okay, his baby was okay,
thank God.
He heard Phoebe give a relieved sob, saw Deacy go though his breathing exercises. Theo held onto his hand and Jim did his best to smile at him.
“Let’s go meet your sister, yeah?” he asked. Theo nodded, pale as death, still clinging to Jim’s hand as they left the others behind them.
They were led to the nursery a floor away and brought to a bassinet towards the back. Inside, flat on her back and kicking her legs, was Maeve Primrose Hutton.
Maeve was so tiny, beautiful enough to take Jim’s breath away. She was darker than him, but paler than Freddie with a thatch of fluffy black hair and pink cheeks. She was crying as Jim and Theo approached, but calmed down when Jim held her.
“Hey you,” he said softly. Theo just kept staring at her like he wasn’t sure where she’d come from. Carefully, like he was afraid, his son reached out to let Maeve grip his finger.
“She’s really okay?” Theo asked.
“She’s okay,” Jim promised and Theo nodded, still staring at the baby.
“My past has tasted bitter for years now, so I wield an iron fist. Grace is just weakness or so I've been told. I've been cold, I've been merciless. But the blood on my hands scares me to death, maybe I'm waking up today. I'll be good, I'll be good, and I'll love the world, like I should.” -I’ll Be Good,
Jaymes Young
It was nearly one in the morning when a new doctor came up to them. By then, Theo and Jim had gone back to the others; Phoebe had gone to check on Maeve with Deacy.
The sight of the doctor, looking exhausted with a smear of blood on her collar, made Theo want to vomit. He wanted good news. He wanted her to say his papa was okay. He wanted to be allowed to see him. He wanted
Freddie.
He got some of what he wanted. She must not have noticed Theo curled up on the floor with Joe, because she wasn’t quiet enough when she told Jim, “If he makes it through the night he should be okay.”
Joe’s grip tightened so much it hurt. Theo was resisting the urge to run past the doctor and push into Freddie’s room, to stay with him and hold onto him. That was what Freddie always did for him, time and time again. Theo should be allowed hold his hand too, when he needed it.
Roger was crying again, loudly, but he looked more relieved than Theo had ever seen him. Brian was bent over double, breathing heavily like he was going to be sick. His dad squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, but nodded as the doctor kept talking.
“I want my papa,” Theo mumbled yet again.
“Yeah, me too,” Joe admitted, giving Theo another squeeze.
When Deacy and Phoebe came back, Jim put his foot down. “You lot head home,” he said. “I’m staying. I’ll call you all first thing in the morning, I promise.” Despite Theo and Roger’s furious protests they weren’t given a choice.
Jim hugged Theo tightly and kissed his forehead. “You keep being brave, okay?” Jim said, holding Theo’s face in his hands. Theo nodded, but he didn’t
feel
brave. He felt small and scared.
Phoebe took his hand and led him away.
It felt
wrong
to be home without Dad or Papa. The cats all woke up when they came in and prowled around restlessly. Joe went to make sure they had enough water and Phoebe insisted on tucking Theo into bed like he was five again.
“Try get some rest, love,” Phoebe said softly. He switched off the light and closed the door behind him.
Try get some rest.
Yeah right. He couldn’t sleep; for all that he was exhausted his eyes just wouldn’t close. He wanted to go back to the hospital. He wanted to sit with Freddie and Jim. He wanted to check on Maeve again. He wanted to let Freddie know that Maeve was okay. But he couldn’t.
The longer he stayed lying there the angrier he felt. This wasn’t fair, this
so
wasn’t
fucking fair.
Why did this have to happen to
Freddie?
Why his papa?
What if Freddie didn’t make it? What if he was dying right this second and Theo wasn’t there?
He could feel a scream building in his chest. Breathing heavily he groped for his inhaler and held on tight. He didn’t feel like he was about to have an asthma attack, but you could never be sure. His chest felt tight with anxiety; he’d rather keep it at just anxiety.
And anger. That too.
Clawing at the sheets, glaring at the ceiling, nearly sobbing in frustration, Theo just wanted to
run
again. He wanted this all to
stop,
he wanted everything to be okay again.
Before he could stop himself he was up and running down the hall, towards the music room. Still biting back a scream he marched to his drum set, grabbed the nearest drumstick and just started
hitting,
hitting as hard as he could. Someone was screaming, shouting and swearing and it slowly dawned on Theo that it was
him.
He wondered if Mary could hear from down the street, he wondered if all of London could hear him.
And then Phoebe and Joe were prying the drumstick from his hand and pulling him away. Joe lifted him straight up and let Theo continue to scream and sob into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Joe said, sounding near tears himself. “I’m so sorry.”
“I want my
papa!
” Theo screamed.
“I know,” Phoebe said, stroking his hair the way Freddie did. “Oh, Theo, love…”
“We’ll go back first thing, I promise,” Joe said. “We don’t have to wait for Jim to call, okay?”
It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to go
now,
but he knew they wouldn’t let him.
Defeated, Theo nodded. Joe set him back on the ground and he let them lead him back to his room.
Around seven in the morning the phone started ringing. Theo sat up, heart pounding. He didn’t remember falling asleep; the adrenaline returned with a vengeance as he jumped out of bed and raced downstairs.
He jumped off the last step just as Joe answered the phone.
“Jim!” Joe’s voice cracked in relief. “Oh God, how is he?”
There was a pause while Jim spoke on the other end; Phoebe had a firm grip on Theo’s shoulder again, keeping him in place.
And then Joe let out a hysterical bark of laughter, clutching at his own hair. “Oh thank fuck,” he gasped. “Here, hold on.” He thrust the phone at Theo, beaming. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said softly, but Theo was too scared to believe him.
He took the phone.
“Dad?”
“Theo? Theo, it’s okay,” Jim said on the other end. His voice cracked. “Your papa’s stable, son, he’ll be okay.”
He felt dizzy with relief. Phoebe was crying, Joe was laughing and Theo didn’t know
what
to do. For all the crying he’d done yesterday his eyes remained surprisingly dry now as he once more said, “I want my papa.”
“Of course,” Jim soothed. “You can see him today, I promise.”
“He’s really okay?” Theo asked, voice small.
“He’s still asleep, but he’s okay. Theo? I promise, he’s going to be fine.”
“Good,” Theo mumbled. All of a sudden he felt tired again; he leaned against the wall as he repeated, “Good.”
“Love you, Theo,” Jim said. “I’ll see you later, son.”
“Love you too, Dad. Tell Papa I love him.”
“I will,” Jim promised and the line went dead.
He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.
“Theo?” Phoebe knelt in front of him, holding onto his hands. “Are you alright?”
He probably should have been laughing like Joe, or crying like Phoebe, or jumping up and down, but Theo just felt lightheaded with relief. He felt like he was waking up from a nightmare.
“Can we go now?” he asked.
Joe ruffled his hair. “Go get dressed then,” he said and Theo raced back to his room.
Freddie was okay. Maeve was okay.
Everything
would be okay if Theo had a say in it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
November 1987 “Baby we built this house on memories. Take my picture now, shake it til you see it. And when your fantasies become your legacy, promise me a place in your house of memories.” -House Of Memories, Panic! At The Disco Once upon a time, in another life, in a world where a previous birth hadn’t wreaked unfixable damage on his body, it took Freddie a day to wake up. In this one, it took a week. On the third day his eyes fluttered open, he half-surfaced to his husband calling his name, to his mother crying and praying, before he was swept under again. From time to time he thought he heard people speaking… “You’ll be okay, Freddie, I know you will.” Sounded like Mary, only all broken and small. “Maeve’s a picture, Freddie, and in perfect health, don’t you worry.” Phoebe with that forced happy tone he used when he didn’t want to admit he was upset. “Papa? They’re bringing Maeve today. You need to wake up. Don’t you want to see her?” Theo, oh God, Theo. And he wished with all his might he could just wake up properly, because this limbo, this half-awake state, was driving him crazy. He wanted his husband, his wanted his babies. But those moments were rare. For the most part he slept deeply, recovering from such heavy blood loss and damage. His dreams were nonsensical most of the time, almost humorous; concerts where he suddenly realised the audience was naked- when he tried to point it out to Brian, their guitarist only shrugged as if it were natural. Roger’s rainbow wig somehow transforming into his actual hair. Delilah sitting at the piano and singing in a voice that sounded oddly like Montserrat Caballe. Jim offering him a bunch of daffodils that burst into song; Theo flying up to the ceiling and refusing to come down. And then there were memories; choppy, non-linear, leaving him confused about just where and when he was.
They finally said it was okay for him to feed Theo himself now, which was good because Freddie was seconds away from snapping if they said no again. He wondered if it’d make his chest stop aching or if it’d only make it worse.
He listened carefully to the nurse’s instructions, but just as she handed his baby to him, he froze. Roger was still sitting right there and suddenly, ridiculously, he felt shy about this whole process.
“Er...Darling, can you not look?” he asked.
Roger stared at him incredulously. “I’ve literally seen you naked,” he pointed out.
“That’s different.”
“How!?”
“It just is," Freddie insisted and the nurse giggled.
“Better do as he says, Mr Taylor,” she said with a grin. Huffing, but smiling, Roger turned to face the wall-
-It was their first time in Ray Foster’s office and Freddie instantly disliked the man. He’d looked at Deacy with a faint, almost puzzled frown, like he was surprised to find their bassist was actually a Beta after all. He took one look at Freddie and sneered, and Freddie knew right away just what kind of Alpha they were dealing with. The kind that expected him to sit still and look pretty. The kind that thought Freddie didn’t have a single idea in his head. The kind that expected him to lie back and spread his legs for anyone.
Well, he’d expected it, but it was still annoying.
“I’m sure you boys can understand why I had reservations,” he said with another frown at Freddie. “Omegas in the music industry tend to invite trouble.” He shrugged. “But you said he’s claimed, right Reid?”
Reid, looking slightly embarrassed by Foster’s tone, nodded. “By Roger,” he said. In response, as though to prove a point, Roger took Freddie’s hand and squeezed tightly, staring Foster down.
“Hm...Norman will be disappointed,” Foster commented and Freddie didn’t understand until Foster handed them the contract. He handed it to Brian and Freddie craned his neck to look.
Foster scoffed. “ You don’t need to read it,” he said. “Let the Alphas handle the thinking, yeah?”
“Excuse me?” Freddie hissed.
Foster ignored him, turning to Roger. “Shut him up, will you?”
“Freddie’s an equal member of this band,” Roger snapped. “Of course he has to read the contract too!”
Brian had gone white as snow. He handed the contract to Roger silently; Roger scooted even closer to Freddie, letting him read it with ease. And he suddenly saw why Norman Sheffield would be disappointed Freddie was “claimed.”
“Any and all unclaimed Omega artists will be assigned an Alpha by EMI executives. Finances will be handled by said Alpha and the Omega is to treat them as they would their respective Alpha. The appointed Alpha will have the right to demand any service of the Omega artist; they can claim their share of the Omega’s earnings, they will have equal input on the Omega’s songs and are permitted to make any demand of the Omega artist they see fit, be it in the work environment or outside it.”
For a moment he felt lightheaded. He heard Roger growl under his breath. Foster continued to sneer at Freddie like he was an irritating insect. Or maybe he'd read it wrong. Maybe it was leering.
He thought of all the rumours he’d heard of the music and film industries he’d heard over the years and understood; Sheffield would be disappointed, because if he knew Freddie was single he’d be able to hand Freddie off to anyone or take him for himself.
Freddie would have been expected to be some Alpha’s little sex toy in exchange for Queen being signed.
And it was all legal.
Sickened, overwhelmed, he hid his face in Roger’s neck; thankfully it played into the act. Foster seemed to believe, wholeheartedly, that Freddie and Roger were together.
Paul looked disappointed and Freddie prayed EMI would never learn this was an act; he prayed they could find another record company, one that would give him more equality.
But for now he held Roger’s hand with his left and signed on the dotted line with his right-
-Sheffield stared down at him, eyebrows raised.
“So, you’re the Omega that’s causing all the fuss?” he asked.
“That’s me,” Freddie asked. He stood as tall as he could, making sure to keep eye contact. He flipped his hair back, revealing the mark Roger had left.
Sheffield eyed it with a frown.
“Pity,” he said and-
-Bomi dragged him down the hall, back to his room.
“Papa, you’re hurting me!” Freddie yelped. Bomi wouldn’t look at him and he was suddenly terrified. “Papa, what’s wrong?”
“Haven’t you smelled yourself?” his father barked. “You’re in heat, you silly child! You can’t go out like this!” He slammed the door open and pushed Freddie inside. “You stay in there until I can sort this out.”
The door slammed shut; he heard the lock click into place and, suddenly terrified, Freddie pounded at it with his fists.
“LET ME OUT!” he screamed, again and again to no avail. No one even snapped at him to shut up; he could have been a ghost for all the notice they took-
-He arrived in England at night; it was cold, colder than he’d ever felt and raining steadily. Only seventeen and small for his age, looking even younger and suddenly feeling younger, he suddenly stopped dead in the middle of Heathrow airport.
What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go? He couldn’t go back. If he did he’d be handed off to Dazmen, made into a pretty little doll. Or his family could decide he wasn’t worth all the trouble; he could face an honour killing.
Sudden tears filled his eyes and he wiped them away.
“Get a grip, Freddie,” he muttered to himself. He was seventeen. He was practically an adult. He could look after himself, he could.
He just had no idea where to start.
“You alright, love?”
Startled, Freddie spun around, clinging tightly to his suitcase. A Beta woman, a member of security, was looking at him with concern.
“I...I’m just a bit lost,” he said, the first thing he could think to say.
She stared at him; she looked around as though expecting someone else to come looking for him.
“Are you on your own?” she asked. Maybe it was stupid of him, but he nodded.
“...Well...Here, come with me.” She gestured him over to a stand full of brochures and handed him one labelled “BOARDING HOUSE: OMEGAS ONLY!!!” in bright purple.
“It’s not too far from here,” she said with a smile. “If you’re really stuck for the night they can help.”
He was left wondering just how many Omegas like himself, in the same situation, came passing through here. As he looked around he saw about ten stands with similar brochures and flyers-
-“Do you have a band?” Brian May asked. He and Roger Taylor were grinning fit to burst, grinning at Freddie, like he’d done something amazing.
“No,” Freddie said.
Their grins widened.
“Do you want one?” Brian asked and Freddie’s hand flew to his mouth to hide his grin, to hide his teeth.
“What, your one?”
“Yeah! Tim just quit, we need a singer. What do you say?”
What did he say? He said he’d been following them for months now, he thought they were amazing. He said he’d have given his right hand for the opportunity to work with them; he said that “Keep Yourself Alive” helped snap him out of his depression. He said, “I’m in,” and watched Roger whoop with glee, not quite able to believe that he was the cause of such excitement and Brian held his hand out-
-Freddie was curled up in bed, shaking. They’d just gotten back from the police station and an older officer with narrowed eyes had demanded if Freddie had been in heat when Paul attacked him. “What did you do?” he snapped, a brutal reminder of what the world at large thought of him.
Part of him wanted to just roll over and admit defeat. He didn’t think he could fight this; he didn’t think he could win this time. Maybe his family had the right idea; maybe the world had the right idea. Maybe he should just stop, just give himself away to someone “suitable,” maybe he should bend to the will of an Alpha and never have an independent thought of his own again, maybe it really was a burden he wasn’t capable of carrying.
That was how his teacher had put it-
-A tall, slim Beta woman, constantly wringing her hands. It was an all Omega secondary school, not far from his house. No Alphas were allowed to work there, or Omegas either; all the staff were Betas.They weren’t allowed to sit; they knelt on braided rugs or cushions if they were lucky. They weren’t taught mathematics, or anything like that anymore- “Too difficult for you, dearies,”- they were taught to keep a house clean, to be submissive, to please an Alpha; they were taught to smile and sit still, hands folded on their laps, heads bowed.
“Having to think for yourselves,” their teacher said with a beseeching smile. “Oh, that’s just not fair on you. But don’t you worry, it’s not a burden you’ll have to carry for long, we know you’re not capable, children, but that’s not really your fault, poor things; it’s God’s will. And as God intends, your families will find a nice Alpha to look after you. You see, it’s-”
-Jim lifted him up, hands on Freddie’s hips. Laughing, he set him down on the counter.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
Grinning, blushing, Freddie hid his face in Jim’s chest. It was the day after they finally had sex and he couldn’t stop blushing, still couldn’t believe he’d managed it again at long last. He felt so happy he could burst, he-
-He was lying on the bed with Phoebe, having what Phoebe cheerfully dubbed “Omega time.” Their heats had synced up for the first time; they were both sleepy, sore, emotional and in need of contact, so they cuddled together, laughing at the difference in their heights and sizes-
-Theo took one wobbly step, then another. He made grabby hands at Freddie, letting out happy little shrieks as he slowly but surely took his first steps, straight into his father’s arms.
And…
And…
November 22nd, 1987 “Running now, I close my eyes but, oh, I got stamina. And oh yeah, running to the waves below, but I, I got stamina. And oh yeah, I'm running and I'm just enough, and uh-oh, I got stamina. Don't give up; I won't give up. Don't give up, no no no.” -The Greatest, Madilyn Paige (cover) Slowly but surely, Freddie awoke to an odd scene. Theo was holding his hand and, shockingly, his little boy was praying quietly, all the Zoroastrian prayers Freddie had taught him. Jim was snoring in an orange plastic chair on his other side. Roger sat on the edge of the bed, looking seconds away from passing out in exhaustion. And resting on Freddie’s bare chest, cooing away, was a tiny baby girl. Oh, he thought blearily. I know you. He couldn’t quite seem to get his arms to cooperate. He wanted to squeeze Theo’s hand, he wanted to hug Maeve properly, but they just weakly shook. Fuck, what had happened? “R-Roggie?” he rasped. Theo gasped; Roger outright screamed his name, which woke Jim up and set Maeve off crying. “Now look what you did,” Freddie mumbled as Roger crushed him in a hug. “Stop scaring me like that,” his best friend sobbed. “Fuck’s sake, Fred, don’t do that to me!” Jim was rapidly pressing kisses all over his face, Theo was laughing, Maeve was shrieking and it was far too much noise too soon. “W-What...What happened? ” Freddie demanded as best he could. Finally, his arms did what he wanted and he managed to rest a hand on Maeve’s back, rubbing up and down soothingly. Shockingly, it seemed to do the trick; she sobbed a bit, more quietly, before lying there in silent tears. She looked at him reproachfully, as though to say “Make them stop!” “You…” Jim shot an uncertain look at Theo. Sighing, Roger wrapped an arm around Theo’s shoulders. “Come on, little man,” he said. “We’ll go find the doctor, yeah?” “But-” Theo’s eyes darted frantically to Freddie. “Your dad and papa need to talk,” Roger said more firmly and ushered Theo away; his son protested all the while, though not as fiercely as one might expect from him. “...Jim, what happened?” Freddie asked, dreading the answer. Jim took one of his hands in both of Jim’s larger ones; he pressed a kiss to the knuckles, exhaling shakily. “Darling?” “...You hemorrhaged, Freddie,” Jim whispered. “It was bad. Really bad. You...They said your heart stopped twice. Even at the end, all they could tell me was that if you lasted the night it should be okay.” Fuck. Fuck. It sounded as bad as last time. Only everyone seemed so shocked that he was awake, so… “Darling, I...H-how…” He didn’t want to ask, but he licked his dry lips and forced himself to speak. “How long was I out?” Jim closed his eyes as though in pain and said, “A week.” A week. Freddie felt like he was going to pass out again. A week. He’d lost a whole week, he’d missed the first week of Maeve’s life, he’d likely traumatised Theo into the bargain and frightened the life from everyone else again. He felt sick. His stomach lurched and he wondered if he actually was going to throw up. Then Maeve sneezed, a tiny little “a-choo” and somehow, that was what snapped Freddie out of it; it drew his attention back to her. “Jim, can you move her up a little?” he asked hoarsely. He didn’t want to think about this; he just wanted to focus on his daughter, he wanted to see that she was okay. Jim did as he asked; he shifted Maeve further up Freddie’s chest, turning her slightly so her face could be seen better. And Freddie wanted to cry. His throat tightened, his eyes stung, yet somehow they stayed dry; no tears came. She was perfect. As beautiful as Theo had been; tiny and delicate with rosy cheeks and fluffy back hair, rose-bud lips that she opened and closed, looking up at him with eyes that were a mirror image of his own. “She’s perfect,” he whispered. She was worth it, just like her brother had been. “She...She’s okay, right?” “She’s perfect,” Jim echoed. “Totally healthy.” “Good,” Freddie managed to choke out. Good. Such a limp little word, but it was all he could manage then. He didn’t have much more time to brood on it; the doctor came hurrying in, followed by Roger; he could hear Theo protesting in the hallway as Deacy held him back. “I'll be a good mum, I swear; you'll see how much I care when you meet me. You thrill me, you delight me. You please me, you excite me. You're all that I've been yearning for. I love you, I adore you, I lay my life before you. I only want you more and more.” -I’ve Been Waiting For You, Mamma Mia 2 (cover) It was what Freddie expected, but it was still awful. The doctor, Doctor Williams, explained calmly and steadily what had happened; the hemorrhage, the fight to save his life and, finally… “Another birth would kill you,” he said with cold certainty. “We recommend removing your womb. I’m sorry, Mr Hutton.” It didn’t surprise him, not really, but he still didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t fair. Remove his womb entirely, or risk killing himself, or abort any future pregnancies instead. He wanted to say, “No, fuck that, you can’t do that to me,” but his eyes landed on Maeve and suddenly his thoughts snowballed; Maeve, Theo, Jim, Roger, Brian, Deacy, Mary; his parents and sister, Miami, Phoebe, Joe, heck even his cats...He couldn’t put them all through this again. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” Williams said gently and Freddie nodded, leaning against Jim, clutching Roger’s hand, but he knew what his answer had to be. Williams left and Deacy, Brian and Theo came running in. Theo sat on the edge of the bed; he leaned over Roger’s arm to bury his nose in Freddie’s neck, taking his scent in. Smiling despite it all, Freddie rested his cheek on the top of Theo’s head and breathed deeply, letting Theo’s lilacs and mint scent wash over him. They all looked awful and Freddie was willing to bet he looked even worse. “Are you alright?” he asked and Roger let out an incredulous laugh. “We should be asking you that.” “I’m sore,” Freddie said, which was an understatement. Without the morphine he’d likely be screaming his head off; as it was he still wanted to cry, to knock himself out again to escape this. Everything burned. “You won’t be lifting a finger for a year,” Jim said; maybe he was joking, maybe he wasn’t. Either way, Freddie didn’t have the strength to argue for once. He just hummed in response, letting himself rest against his husband’s chest. “Love you, Fred,” Deacy suddenly said. His eyes were swimming with tears, but he met Freddie’s gaze resolutely, almost like he was challenging Freddie to dismiss it, to dismiss him. He wouldn’t dream of it. “Love you too, darling.” he said softly. If this was a cuddle pile it was the oddest and sorest one he’d ever partook in; Jim was cradling him, Roger was holding his hand; Theo was still lying on Freddie’s shoulder, looking seconds away from falling asleep. Brian squeezed his arm, Deacy linked his hand with Freddie’s on Maeve’s back and Maeve herself was dozing on Freddie’s chest. His hospital gown was still pushed down to his waist to let Maeve rest on his bare skin; his hair felt limp and lank, he felt weaker than he’d ever been, his chest was aching and he still felt sticky from when he’d been leaking. The pain in between his legs...He didn’t have the words for it. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. That just wasn’t how life went. Nothing was ever simple. But he wasn’t alone; he was literally surrounded by his family. These men, these boys; his husband, his brothers, his son, and now his daughter...He could face anything if he had them by his side. He’d done it before; he’d gone through hell and back before. Exhausted as he was, Freddie didn’t doubt he could do it again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Now we're back to the beginning; it's just a feeling and no one knows yet. But just because they can't feel it too doesn't mean that you have to forget. Let your memories grow stronger and stronger, 'til they're before your eyes. You'll come back when they call you, no need to say goodbye.” -The Call,
Regina Spektor
When Theo had been born, Freddie and the boys made sure to leak a false release date to the press, allowing him to return home in peace. This time they weren’t sure the press would fall for it again.
They released three fake dates instead.
Freddie, being pushed to the car in a wheelchair, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no reporters lingering nearby. Maeve was asleep in his arms, Theo walked in step with the wheelchair, babbling about the “surprise” feast Joe was cooking back at Garden Lodge. Freddie didn’t have the heart to admit his appetite wasn’t up to much- besides, he knew he
should
eat, in fact he needed to if he stood any chance of looking after his children, let alone feed his baby into the bargain.
And, typically, Roger was standing by the car, ready to drive them all home. He wouldn’t hear of it when Jim said he’d do the driving. He insisted he wanted to help out; no one was going to say no to an extra pair of hands on what promised to be a tiring day.
“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked with a grin, twirling his keys.
“Let’s do it,” Freddie said.
Really, the homecoming was exactly what Roger expected: Phoebe nearly cried as he hugged Freddie, careful not to crush Maeve. He could smell the ridiculous amount of food Joe was cooking- there was sweet smells and savory smells and who-even-knew-what coming from the kitchen. Theo was nearly bouncing in glee; when Freddie asked if he wanted to hold Maeve the kid damn near lit up.
And, okay, watching them together was precious. Theo rocked Maeve gently, grinning down at her; wide awake now she stared at him solemnly, occasionally making funny little snuffling noises. Roger couldn’t help but grin at the sight.
He glanced down at Freddie; his best friend’s eyes were glued to his children. For the first time since he’d woken up, Freddie appeared totally relaxed. There was a gentle smile on his face and his eyes appeared suspiciously wet; he blinked hard and the tears didn’t fall, though the same couldn’t be said for Phoebe- he was wiping at his eyes and cheeks ineffectively.
“Well,” Freddie said before the silence could stretch on for too long. “First thing’s first, I need a bath, I look awful.”
“You’re beautiful,” was the automatic response from Jim, Roger, Joe and Phoebe, along with Theo’s “No you don’t!”
Roger looked around at the others and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing; Joe grinned sheepishly, Theo snickered whereas Phoebe and Jim seemed determined to stand by what they said.
“You’re all impossible,” Freddie said and Roger bent to help him up.
Freddie immediately eyed him suspiciously. “Rog,” he began warningly- and Roger ignored him, scooping Freddie straight up into his arms, ignoring Freddie’s indignant shriek and Theo’s laughter.
“'Cause he's stronger than you know; a heart of steel starts to grow. When you've been fighting for it all your life, you've been struggling to make things right, that's how a superhero learns to fly. Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power.” -Superheroes,
The Script
The water was so hot that the mirror and windows fogged up in seconds, but it soothed a lot of his aches and Freddie lay back, eyes closed, thankful to be out of that damn hospital and back in the comfort of his own home. No more lingering hospital smell, no more hovering doctors, no more restrictions on who could visit and when; he could finally sleep in his own bed with his husband again, he was surrounded by his family again and, why deny it, he’d missed his cats too.
Finally having a proper bath was just the tip of the iceberg really, but it had been high on his list for a reason; he felt
grungy,
all sweaty and exhausted and sore. Being stuck in hospital hadn’t helped with that. But his gigantic marble tub? The steaming water and scented oils? The sight alone made him feel better.
“Alright, Fred?” Roger poked his head around the door, a fluffy white towel, and Freddie’s favourite dressing gown, in his arms.
“Feeling better already, darling,” Freddie assured him with a smile- a smile that Roger easily returned as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. He set the towel to heat up on the radiator, hung the dressing gown on the door and sat on the edge of the bath, kicking his feet.
“...You really scared me,” he admitted quietly. “That...Fuck, that felt worse than last time somehow. I...I was there and I couldn’t do anything.”
“No one could, Roggie,” Freddie said.
“I know that, I
do,
I just…” Roger let out a hysterical little laugh. “I can’t let you out of my sight, huh?”
Freddie looked at him carefully; his blonde hair was in tangles, there were shadows under his eyes; he looked worn out and yet he also looked as stubbornly determined as ever.
Sighing, smiling, Freddie grabbed his hand.
“I’ve an idea, darling.”
“Hm?”
“I say screw that whole ‘
Alpha protecting the Omega’
rubbish. We’re best friends. You look after me all the time, you’ve protected me for
years.
How about we just agree to look after each other instead?”
Roger stared at him, surprised or happy or upset, Freddie couldn’t quite tell. He kept a firm grip on Roger’s hand; slowly, steadily, Roger relaxed, smiling again.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding choked up. “Sounds good to me.”
Freddie couldn’t hold his grin back.
“Love you, Roggie.”
“Love you too, Fred.”
At least that was one problem solved, Freddie thought. Maybe Roger would finally relax a little. He knew old habits wouldn’t change overnight, but it was an acknowledgment, it was a start.
Roger had always,
always
done his best to look after Freddie. He’d admitted to Freddie’s face, more than once, that he felt like he was doing a shit job.
Freddie had never seen it that way. Roger was, hand on heart, the first person to really make him feel
safe
in England, completely and utterly. This was someone he knew he could trust, no matter what. This was one of the first people to see Freddie as an equal; this was one of the first people who wanted to help him without expecting some reward in return.
This man had nearly punched Ray Foster for him; this man
had
hit people in defence of him; he’d snapped at reporters and interviewers to show some respect, he’d held a knife to Paul Prenter’s neck and to this day Freddie didn’t doubt that Roger
would
have done it, if they hadn’t stopped him.
Roger Taylor was, plain and simple, his best friend. He had a way of reminding Freddie to be brave no matter what.
“Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you. Long, long live the walls we crashed through. All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. And I was screaming, “long live all the magic we made,” and bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid.” -Long Live,
Taylor Swift
Maybe it was daft for Roger to want to cry, but hearing Freddie say that? It made his eyes water and for a moment it was a struggle to keep his cool.
“Love you, Roggie,” Freddie said with that sweet and shy smile, that smile that had never changed over the years.
“Love you too, Fred,” Roger said and he
did,
oh God he did, he loved that dramatic, shy, loving, childish little thing so much it hurt. Freddie was his best friend and sometimes it felt like promising to protect him was the first good thing Roger had done; after years of feeling like a fuck up, after years of temper tantrums and general angst (teenage and otherwise), promising to look after his best friend had felt like a turning point. It was, other than music, something
good
to focus his energy on.
A lot of the time, he felt like he had failed; that damn 1973 nude photoshoot,
Ridge Farm,
the trial, the dangerous births of Theo and Maeve and the
countless
times someone had treated Freddie like dirt, like a brainless sex toy...But apparently, to Freddie, none of that mattered. None of that counted.
He thought Roger had
succeeded.
So maybe it wasn’t dumb to feel like crying after all.
Sudden laughter bubbled in his chest and he flung his arms around Freddie, holding on tight, burying his face in Freddie’s hair. He nearly fell into the huge tub; water splashed on him and hugging Freddie only succeeded in soaking his shirt, but he barely noticed.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you so much, you have no idea.”
Freddie’s wet arms wrapped around him and he could practically
feel
Freddie’s smile.
“I have an idea, darling.”
One year later…
“Went low, went high, what matters is now; getting right back in the mood. I live my day as if it was the last, live my day as if there was no past. Doin' it all night, all summer, doin' it the way I wanna. Yeah, I'mma dance my heart out 'til the dawn, but I won't be done when morning comes. Doin' it all night, all summer. Gonna spend it like no other.” -Lush Life,
Zara Larsson
Well, Theo was dead. After all the bullshit he’d pulled over the years, this was it: his Papa was finally going to kill him.
They’d lost Maeve. To be precise, they’d lost her backstage at a
Queen
concert. He’d turned his back for one minute to talk to Robert, Jim had turned to look for Maeve’s juice in her baby bag and the next thing they knew, she was gone.
And if this didn’t just sum up Theo’s life he didn’t know what did.
He ran around frantically backstage with Jim. Ronnie, Dom, and Anita, along with any of the other kids old enough to help look were also rushing around; even Miami, who Theo always thought was utterly unflappable was...well, pretty flapped. He even ran. It shot up the list of Most Bizarre Sights Of Theo’s Life.
It was getting to the point where Theo wanted to just sit down and cry because
he’d lost his baby sister, damn it.
Well, they may have lost Maeve, but she found Freddie.
He had just run into the wings ahead of Jim when he heard the crowd start to
scream.
And sure enough, crawling across the stage was-
“MAEVE!” Theo yelled and Jim groaned in horror. The band stopped dead, staring at the baby making her way to them. She crawled like a woman on a mission, grinning at Freddie.
And then Maeve successfully won the title of most dramatic member of the family: she stopped crawling. She pouted, wriggling in place...and pushed herself shakily to her feet. She wobbled precariously, still pouting, as though testing her balance. Apparently satisfied, she smiled again and took one wobbly step- and another. And another. Slowly, shakily, she took her first steps, walking to Freddie across the stage for hundreds of people to see.
“Holy
shit,
” Theo gasped. For once Jim didn’t tell him off. Every single stage hand was gawping; he knew when the others arrived because he heard Anita gasp.
Maeve didn’t seem to notice the crowd; she only had eyes for Freddie. She made grabby hands just like Theo used to do, crying “Papa!” happily as she walked.
Freddie ran to her, dropping to his knees to scoop her up in his arms when he reached her.
“Papa!” Maeve said again, close enough to Freddie’s mic that the whole concert hall heard it. Theo pushed past the stage hands and ran to his Papa and sister; his hair slipped free of it’s ponytail as he ran, bouncing about his shoulders. Jim was just behind him, already frantically apologising.
“Oh shut up, darling, she’s
walking!
” Freddie said with glee, though if Theo knew his Papa at all there’d be hell to pay later. Still, he’d take whatever respite he could.
Freddie was beaming when he stood to hand Maeve to Jim; he hugged Theo tightly and it was still insane to Theo that he was actually a little
taller
than Freddie now.
“Sorry, Papa,” he mumbled.
“Oh, it’s not
your
ass I’ll be kicking, darling,” Freddie grinned. Theo grinned right back, turning to poke Maeve on the nose. His little sister shrieked delightedly, clapping her hands. She continued to clap as they fled back stage, oblivious to the trouble and drama she’d caused.
“She’s Freddie’s alright,” Aunt Veronica laughed, just as Freddie addressed the crowd; “Well with dramatics like those we can safely say she’s mine, huh darlings?”
Theo threw his head back and laughed.
His family, he’d long since realised, were insane. Completely and utterly mad. Not a day went by without some sort of drama. Someone was always arguing or doing something daft- Theo himself being a chief instigator.
His family wasn’t perfect. No family was perfect. There were still days, or even entire weeks, where Theo cut himself off; he brooded, he snapped, he locked himself in his room and refused to come out. He drummed at insane hours, he cried, he screamed. There were still times where he wished he hadn’t been born at all.
There were still days where Freddie flinched if someone moved towards him too fast; there were still days where Freddie piled on more layers than necessary, still days where his anxiety ruled his actions.
Neither of them were perfect. But they were doing their best, they were always striving to reach their full potential. Usually, when someone told Theo “You’re just like Freddie!” he didn’t understand. Freddie was kind and generous and loving and optimistic; Theo was temperamental and pessimistic and only loved a select few. But sometimes he understood; they were both musicians, they were both protective, they were both
passionate,
even if that passion materialised in different ways.
Theo Mercury was not born under good circumstances, but he was Freddie Mercury’s son through and through, and damn proud of it. He’d had teachers describe him as a “problem child.” Some people didn’t see a resemblance between his and his Papa’s personalities at all, but that was fine. Theo didn’t care about the masses. He had Freddie, he had Jim and he had Maeve.
Theo was perfectly happy with that.
“All we see is light, watch the sun burn bright. We could be alright for forever this way. All we see is sky for forever...All I see is sky for forever…” -Finale,
Dear Evan Hansen