A Babe Without A Name (A Brian May / Queen fan fiction)

8

A note from themrsmay-
I wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read and voted! I truly didn't expect anyone to ever see this, so seeing the notifications was both exciting and terrifying to me.  Anyways, I'll be sure to keep updating at a frequent rate!
_____________

Heather

It's been three very long and uncomfortable days since I drew those guitars.

Those stupid guitars. I still don't know how, but they ruined everything.

Truthfully, I don't know who's to blame for the past three days. The guitars, or myself. After Brian saw those drawings, it was like a switch went off. He stopped having a fun side to him. There was no more jokes being made, no smiles, no laughs- nothing but a cold and analytical man who couldn't wait to send me on my way.

And it's not like I wouldn't leave if I could.

We thought of everything that night; every possible reason for me being here, and every possible way to get back.

All of it ended up resulting in nothing, other than me making a complete fool of myself. I still can't stop cringing over it:

Brian had been sitting on the floor, running his hands through his hair over and over, while I sat nervously on the couch in front of him, picking the skin around my fingers.

We had just moved on from yet another theory, coming to the conclusion that we were going off on too many unrealistic tangents.

"This conversation is going nowhere fast. You need to be honest with me, Heather. There's no way I can properly help you if you don't tell me everything that happened."

I had been trying to avoid this topic the entire night. I knew realistically it would help us move further into solving the mystery, but it was just too embarrassing for me. And it didn't help that Brian had been acting incredibly strange throughout our entire conversation, even snapping at me a few times before this.

"Just tell me, please. All I want is for you to get back home." Brian sighed, growing impatient with my silence. "Sooner rather than later."

"It's just... I don't think it will help the situation."

"Whatever you were thinking about before the accident is crucial to the situation, how can you deny that?" Brian asked, his voice growing more irritated.

"Because it's fucking embarrassing," I complained.

"Well then I guess you're 'fucking' stuck here!" His voice grew louder, before he groaned and said more softly: "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to help, I promise you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

I remember the tears forming behind my eyes, threatening to materialize any second. I didn't know what I had done wrong. Brian seemed so sweet just a day ago. He was so willing to take me in, and make me feel comfortable, and now I just feel like an incredible burden to him.

"Alright, I'll tell you." I sat up, and took a breath, hoping to summon up enough courage for what I was about to say.

He gave me a brief, encouraging smile. It was like a flash- here and then gone.

"When I was in the car before my accident, I was thinking of you guys... the band." I drew in another breath, "I always thought that you guys were perfect. Y'know... talented, handsome, funny, kind- the works." I looked at Brian, and he gave a quick nod for me to continue.

"I was thinking about that, and then I had another thought, that if I could only go back in time, God knows." I finished with a shrug.

"God knows what?" Brian asked, which made my stomach turn. Did he really want me to say it out loud? Surely he can infer what I meant by that.