In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

43. Mixed Signals, Part Two

The Tube doors opened.  "High Street, Kensington," announced a stuffy, recorded voice.

Here was my stop.  Heavily I picked myself up off the seat, squeezing between the people holding onto the straps overhead.  "Stand clear of the door," said the same voice, and the doors slid shut behind me. 

The station was rather trashed, and reminded me of the New York subway minus the homeless fellows banging on cardboard boxes.  I rushed up to street level, but not before I inspected the random posters taped on the white tile walls, looking for job advertisements.

Getting a job here in Great Britain was going to be harder than I realized.  Living in Texas, I had never had to deal with something that, in the seventies, absolutely ruled the UK: the unions.  I hoped I could talk to Freddie about it tonight, see if he knew how one could join them- or, more ideally, get around them.  I didn't feel like spending any more money, so I decided I would trek my way from the Tube station to Freddie's flat on foot.  I was tired, but not that tired.  Surely it wouldn't be that far.

An hour and a half later I rounded the final corner.  I was literally dragging my feet, worn out, the sleep I'd enjoyed on the plane still far from sufficient to refresh me after the breakneck pace of the last two and a half days. 

I hoped I wouldn't be crashing a little soiree between Freddie and any of his given friends.  Seeing Mary had somehow sucked all the Vegas buoyancy right out of me.  She was another reminder that Freddie was not mine to keep, nor would he ever be.  Had "Liza," or David, been our greeter, I would have felt about the same, but with a little sadness dusted around the edges instead of jealousy.  It wouldn't have been a nicer feeling that I had now, but it wouldn't have been worse. 

I didn't want to be jealous.  I knew better than to be jealous, especially considering what I had known for years.  That is, Freddie belonged to no one.  Maintaining his "freedom" was far too important, especially at this point in his life. 

Far be it from me to wedge myself between anyone and my pr- I mean, THE prince. 

Unlike in Vegas, where I could afford to be the wild child right along with his pals, once again I likely would take on the role of his mute pet.  I had to respect Freddie's busy Queen world, and all the drama and craziness that came with it.  At least, until I knew where I was going with my life.  As much fun as I was having, I didn't like that I still was, in actual fact, completely dependent on Freddie.

I unlocked the front door and walked in to see the lights dim and the cats all snoozing on the sofa.  Listlessly I stroked Oscar's fur as I passed, ignoring how his back arched up against my palm- something that usually delighted me.

Except for the cats, the flat was empty- and I was sick to death of my maroon dress.  I fed my feline friends their dinner, and with one last burst of energy I dragged myself into the bathroom to clean up. 

I still wore my tracker faithfully, no matter what.  But now, for the first time since I slung it round my neck ten days ago, I took it off.  Absently I rubbed the round spot between my collar bones, where it had spent so much time.  I suppose a small part of me still had fingers crossed and hopes high that a miracle would happen, and the Relic would fall back into my grasp.

Now, if Dr. K and his superteam had been smart, he would have put the tracker in a needle, inserted it into my arm or something- and used a Bluetooth earpiece instead of a Nokia.  Oh, well.  This was after all T-Rod's maiden voyage.  Original versions are never as sophisticated as their successors. 

With a resigned little shrug I cleaned up, put on some pajamas, then curled up on top of the bed.  I quietly threaded my tracker between my fingers.  I thought again of my family, wondered what they would do if it was indeed my fate to never return home.  The world at large wouldn't mind- I cast a small shadow upon the earth, even for a lightning rod - but there were many people I loved whom I might never see again.