Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

57. Stu's Snafu

Julia

"...And we can pick up where we left off today sometime in the first week of next semester," I concluded. "Does that sound like a plan?"

"Yeah," the shy young man nodded, rising slowly from the chair. "Sounds cool."

"Fantastic. Any other questions?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

I smiled thinly. "Then I'll see you next year, Connor." That's such a nice name- like Connor MacLeod from Highlander, I noted to myself.

"All right, see you." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Nice flowers, by the way."

I glanced at my black and white roses, forcing the smile to stay glued on as I answered, "Thank you."

While he strode casually out of my office, I glanced at my phone, reading the time to be about twenty minutes until five. At first I felt quietly delighted- until I remembered what could be waiting for me when I returned home.

Assuming, of course, Freddie had not already flown the coop, and made a beeline for Preus Hall as soon as we hung up- which if he had, to be honest, I could totally understand. He had no reason to stay here after all. All the boxes were checked: he had terrified half the world by virtually rising from the dead; placed the secrecy of Stuart's Speck operations in dire jeopardy; eroded Danny's near-immaculate standing at his school; and for the luscious, red revenge cherry on top, made a complete fool out of me.

And I let him.

Before I could dwell too long on these thoughts, I dragged myself back to the real world. I could not let the darkness overtake me yet. I could feel it ebbing and swelling inside me, rising and falling as it had ever since that morning- but this was no place to surrender unto it. In fact, I had already promised myself to pop a "happy pill" into my mouth as soon as I got home. If I was dining with Stuart tonight, I would have to postpone any more tears till tomorrow at least.

Nevertheless, I decided to go ahead and pack up a few minutes early. So I logged off and shut the computer down. I gave my phone one more look for good measure, but there were still no messages from John. Perhaps the flight had been delayed somehow.

Or maybe Brian and Roger kidnapped him, I quipped to myself. Ah yes, I could see it now: two polite English rockers stooping as low as kidnapping their former bassist just to get a little more information about Rick. An elaborate, darkly amusing scenario filled my head- images of Deacy tied to a chair with Brian standing over him, demanding that he talk "or else" while Roger, of course, would be the one providing the actual torture.

I used to ask John what it was that made him so paranoid about his former band mates. There had to be a reason; it was one thing to simply retire from the band and music-making, but quite another to totally disconnect from the other two on everything aside of business-related matters. But he never would tell me, instead would shake his head with a little scoff and change the subject. So, like Veronica, I had learned to shrug my shoulders and take him as he was. Sometimes, that's the only way.

Just before I tucked my phone back into my purse, I slid my finger down the screen, scrolling further up until I ran across the picture of the three of us Danny had sent John. For a little while, I just stared at the photo, studying those sweet smiling faces, unsure if I wanted to smile or tear up all over again.

Perhaps I couldn't blame Freddie for just leaving without a word of farewell. But oh, how I prayed I might still see him nonetheless, just one last time before he returned to the comforting familiarity of 1980s Munich, for no other reason save to tell him goodbye.