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"I told her to stay put right here and she..."
Freddie paced about on the balcony as if he'd forgotten something, lips curling into a frown and a lowly maddening whine escaping from them.
"I told her to stay put right here—why would she run off like this??"
Sipping his drink, he continued to nurse the one he'd brought back for Lucy. Maybe she'd gone to wash up? He pouted since this potential outcome clearly hadn't involved taking him with her.
If this were anything like the time she'd stormed off during his Swedish fit, she hoped she'd return with cake this time around too.
Although it didn't take much longer for his patience to run dry after his attention span waited as long as it could.
Taking his search downstairs, he wandered into a few new conversations along the way in the spirit of passing time.
She's got to be around here somewhere...
Yet nearly an hour of the evening passing provoked an impatient, jaw tightening bitterness from Freddie, who hissed at this abandonment.
"Why did she leave me like this?"
Apprehension unhinging, he stomped his foot, unwilling to pretend to pacify any other interest; it all seemed so mundane when—
Soon enough, he found himself on stage yet again, mic in hand to page her like his lost child in a grocery store. "Lucy? Lucy Clemonte." Freddie tapped the microphone to make sure he was loud and clear. "Could you come here, dear?"
The only thing that broke the unresponsive awkward silence were the condescending murmurs spreading through the crowd while Freddie waited on stage.
His composure already *this close* to going completely out the window... "Dammit—I'm looking for you! Can't you see?!"
No answer.
And that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
Far more publicly than he'd planned, the weariness in his voice turned to Mr. Yien for answers. At this point, everyone should know his mission. And he'd expect a clear report from someone whether they wanted to give one or not.
A now panic-stricken Mr. Yien approached the stage as he gauged the situation. "I thought she'd be with you the entire time?"
Facing a potential reality he'd admittedly been avoiding flooded Freddie's mind with all his worst fears.
A nightmare he wouldn't be able to wake up from. Incapacitated by horrible unspoken dread that wasn't going away... Breaking him to finally admit in front of everyone.
"I can't find her."
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The police officer jotted down the last of his notes from their search and reported to Freddie. "We've yet to locate anyone matching her description, but we will keep a sharp eye out."
Will keep an eye out...
This pitiful lack of findings was all they had to show for Lucy, and he was expected to settle for 'keeping an eye out?' "No.No. You don't fucking understand, do you—you fucking...this can't possibly be it—what else can we do?"
Another officer, presumably partner to the first, shut his car door and approached Freddie's berating with flashing red lights reflecting off his badge and the front door of the grand and gilded ballroom door.
"We've filed a missing person report and I can assure you, Mr. Mercury... we'll do absolutely everything we can to find her."
The sting in those words sunk Freddie's heart...
Missing.
The last word he wanted to hear.
He wanted to hear where on earth Lucy was.
He wanted to hear the soft sweetness of her voice in his ear, and her gentle hums when he touched her skin.
He wanted to hear she was okay...
He wanted her here. With him.
Clutching her necklace around his neck into his fist, the only thing he had to show for her... this bottomless pit of paralyzing fear in his stomach completely caved in and attacked from the inside out.
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Lucy's cloudy eyes opened to fear. Cold isolation. A thousand pounds of grogginess cementing her body to what felt like a cold steel cage in the dark confines of the back of a helicopter like some kind of hunted animal.
How did she end up right back into the harsh reality of the unforgiving world that would chase her forever?
Stirring awake felt like overcoming prolonged paralysis, with her cheek to the cold metal flooring, arms and legs tied behind her back, rough knotted bonds gashing into her wrists and ankles until they began to bleed, she struggled in her body like a newborn learning motor skills for the first time.
Her eyes began to move first. Although they would not serve her with this a burlap sack tied around her neck covering her head. There wasn't much more she could feel yet except an oncoming pounding headache, the ties digging into her wrists, and the pilot making sure she experienced as uncomfortable of a kidnapping as possible.
Her red heels clanked against the cage's confines as she squirmed and shivered, her stomach growling through champagned queasiness from missing the dinner Freddie had planned for them after the ball.
As the futile effort of tugging against the bonds on her wrist only dug deeper into the skin and frustrated her further, she doubted she'd ever admit how much she craved just a moment to breakdown.
A moment more of the exquisitely delicate and skilled softness that Freddie wasn't afraid to show her when he treated her like his princess worthy of tenderness and care.
He'd gone through so much trouble for this beautiful dress just for her, and how they'd ruined not only it, but everything.. shoving her into a cage in the back of this dirty helicopter god knows how far away from him.
There was nothing she wouldn't do to escape this cold reality into the familiar safety of Freddie's arms... The warmth of burying herself in his chest as he slipped his hand where her knee bent and slid her leg over his waist just to get closer to her.
God, she missed him already. Was he safe?
"Agghh..." an incoming immediate wave of lightheadedness when she tried to sit up and hit her head on the top of the cage forced her to realize the confines were even smaller than she thought, adding the most wretched layer of irritation accompanied by the remnants of the drug still sapping her strength.
Who the fuck did this?
Where the fuck was she?
No answers. Only darkness.
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"Let's go, princess." An American accent unlocked the cage and dragged her out the back of the helicopter. The ties wounding her wrists with his heavy-handed treatment were no longer as much of a concern as the knife pressed into her neck as he dragged her where he directed.
"Do we have eyes on all the agents?" Another American accent.
We... just how many of them were they?
"And eyes on the president?"
"Confirmed."
No matter the condition, Lucy's sense of humor remained intact. "If you guys are looking for the president of the United States, you got the wrong—"
An inconsiderate heavy hand with a gun slapped blood out of her mouth.
Looks like any funny business would come with harsh consequences.
