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brian-roger-deaky-and-fred · 2 years

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Bed Rest (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: When Roger's final calls for him to give a medical exam to a patient of his choice, his sleepy, sweet little roommate (Y/N) is more than willing to help.

Warnings: Curse Words, Mentions of a Mean Ex-Boyfriend, Slight Nakedness?, Pining, Fluff, Mentions of Body Insecurity

A/N: I wrote this a long while ago for a friend but never got around to giving it to her!! Well she's not feeling well today so I figured it was a good time :^) I love you, darling. (I'll get a read more cut on this asap!!)

P.S. I GET TO GO TO A QUEEN CONCERT TOMORROW. I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED FOR ANYTHING.

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Roger was stumped from the moment his professor had passed out the packet. It sounded simple enough, sure. A full practice exam on a patient of his choice. It'd be an easy test grade for him. That is, if he could find a patient.

He'd wracked his brain. It's not like he could ask any of the boys to be his subject. I mean, he technically could, but he sure as hell wouldn't be able to look any of them in the eye again after performing a thorough medical exam. God knows he couldn't ask any of his family members. Somehow, that seemed even worse. He even had a handful of ex girlfriends he'd considered choosing from, but decided that in all honesty, he'd rather take a failing grade.

He'd thought on it for a week now, habitually ignoring the assignment whenever it drifted to the front of his mind. But now, it was Sunday night, and his report was due the next morning. He chewed his thumb as he scanned his biology textbook, rubbing his shoulder nervously with his free hand.

"What's wrong?"

Roger's neck ached when he turned around to look at you, and he suddenly realized how long he'd been stuck hunched over his coursework. He smiled softly to himself as you carefully sat down a mug of tea in front of him.

"What do you mean?" He hummed, shoulders clicking as he stretched his arms up above his head. He reached for his drink with a little groan.

Taking one last sip, you rested your mug beside his and brushed his mussed hair back a bit, revealing the collar of his tshirt. He was confused for a moment until you gently pulled the neck of his shirt to reveal his collarbone, red from the constant friction of his rough fingertips. Your brow furrowed, "You're rubbing yourself red, bub."

Roger's chest felt light at the thought of you looking after him. He smiled softly, giving your hand a little appreciative squeeze. " 'm alright, lovie. I promise. 've just got a project due tomorrow and I haven't even started." He sighed, tossing the packet onto his textbook.

You frowned, sitting beside him at the table and fetching the papers, skimming through them. "What all needs done?"

Roger smiled again, to himself. You'd been overworked yourself, recently. Three papers due that week as well as a test. This had been your first free day in a long while, yet here you were, ready to help.

"It's not a hard assignment. I basically just need to give a physical. The thing is, all the volunteer spots were full in the clinic. Don't really have a subject." He sighed, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair.

Your eyes scanned the paper again as he sighed.

"If it were just a check up I'd just ask one of the boys or something, you know? But it's...it's just a lot. I don't know. Pretty...intimate?"

Your eyes went wide at the word. You swallowed thickly, "Intimate?"

"Well, 's nothing weird, I suppose. 's all normal practice. Just stuff that makes you a bit squirmy, I think."

Your eyes caught on the list. Throat. Ears. Mouth. Eyes. Nose. Everything seemed pretty run of the mill until you reached the last note of the bunch. Pelvic. Your pulse sped a bit at the thought. His warm, rough hands carefully feeling over your tummy and hips.

Your stomach churned. You'd been Roger's roommate for nearly four years now, and his best friend for far longer. He'd had girls over plenty of times. It had never really bothered you to accidentally walk in on a drunken makeout or see a girl on her way out the morning after. That is, until one afternoon you'd come home from class to find him sitting on the couch, a girl fast asleep across his lap with her forehead snuggled in against his neck. He toyed with her hair passively and traced shapes over her skin as he gave you an apologetic smile. "Sorry..." he'd whispered. "She's hungover. Too poorly to go on just yet. I promise I won't let her stay long."

Something in you felt crushed at the sight. Why couldn't you have that? Why couldn't you doze off in his lap and let him hold you tight and play with your hair? Why couldn't he draw soft little shapes over your skin?

It'd been so long since you'd felt gentle, loving touches. It'd been so long since you'd been taken care of. You were starved for it. And now, the opprotunity had been dropped in front of you. Roger was looking for someone to take care of.

"I...I'm...."

Roger's blue eyes met yours, his brow raising.

"I can do it...with you..."

His stomach flipped. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, cheeks quickly going red. "Y-Your project, I mean." You couldn't read his expression, and you were starting to crumble in on yourself a bit until his voice broke your train of thought.

"You would do that?" He could see your blush now, warming your cheeks and the tops of your ears. "You wouldn't mind it?"

You gave a little shrug, your muscles starting to relax just now that you knew he wasn't laughing at you. "Want to help you...I wouldn't mind it I don't think. Haven't had a check up in a long time."

"I wanted to ask you", He admitted. "You were the first person I thought of, actually I just...I don't know. Felt a bit tone deaf."

You crooked your brow, though you were relieved that you were someone he'd actually considered. "Tone deaf?"

"Well yeah, I..." He shrugged, and you could've sworn you saw his cheeks go pink too. "I just...We'd talked in the past about how Daniel was an ass to you about your body... Didn't want to ask you to take off your shirt or be vulnerable for me after you've dealt with all that, hm?"

Your heart ached. You'd forgotten you'd told him about Daniel. You found yourself surprised he'd remembered something so trivial as an offhanded complaint you'd made about your ex boyfriend.

In Roger's mind, it'd been hard to forget. He'd hated Daniel from the moment you'd started dating him, and while surely some of that hate could be attributed to jealousy, most if it came from the soft sobs Roger would hear coming from your room after your night's out with him. Daniel always had some little sharp edged comment to make about what you were eating or how you looked. Roger had nearly flinched the first time he'd heard Daniel scold you, knowing exactly how deep his comments would really cut.

"I'd do it for you." Roger was pulled from his memory by your tiny, shy voice. "Don't think I'd be so scared with you."

"You're sure?"

You thought for a moment. Was this a good idea? Definitely not. But somehow, you were desperate enough risk embarrassing yourself.

"Yeah. Wanna help."

He gave a grateful smile, flipping through the pages of the packet. "I promise I'll try and make sure it's over quickly, alright? Just a check up." He said this, mostly for his own sanity. Just a quick check up, right? It's routine. No reason for his heart to race or his ears to heat up. "Do you wanna go sit on my bed? And I'll meet you in there? Just have to grab my kit."

You nodded quickly, trying to cool your cheeks down a bit as you wandered off to his room.

This wasn't so bad. His room. You'd been in Roger's room with him loads of times. It was small and cozy and warm and it smelled like him. You could look at all the photos and posters and magazine clippings he'd stuck to the walls every which way. You sat on his worn comforter nervously, before giving in and laying down on his bed, your head snuggled into his pillow. Gosh he smelled good.

He always came home so beaten after shows, only sparing enough energy to lazily wash off before he fell into his unmade bed. So many times you'd thought about how nice it'd be to kiss him to sleep, then. To press your lips to the water droplets that scattered over his belly and hips. To comb through his wet locks with your fingers and smell traces of his body wash on his still-flushed skin.

This was close enough, for now, though. Drifting off in his bed, imagining him cradling your face...cooing your name softly...

But you weren't imagining it. Your eyes fluttered open for a minute to find your roommate there before you, grazing your cheek with his thumb and trying to wake you softly. His voice was sweet, and he had a sympathetic smile. "Sleepy thing...you want me to let you rest, sweetheart?"

"No..." you hummed softly. "Don' go." You held his hand to your face as if you were worried he'd run off. "Just got comfortable is all."

Roger smiled to himself. What a sight to find you curled up on his bed, your head resting against his pillows. He could get used to that.

" 's alright, lamb. You can stay cozy. We'll be quick, I promise."

He squeezed your hand where you still held his before thumbing through the packet he'd been given. He squinted at it for a moment before frowning and sighing, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and sliding them onto his nose. He didn't notice your pleased smile at this development as he skimmed the page.

"Alright..." you watched his pen as he quickly jotted down the information he already knew; Your full name, age, and birthday. He passed you the pen, "Do you want to write down your weight? I promise I won't look if you don't want me to. Or we could just skip it if you'd rather?"

Your chest ached at his desperation for you to feel comfortable. You gave him a grateful smile and took the pen, scribbling down an estimate. He returned the smile with one that read as both thankful and reassuring, and continued down the list of questions.

"Ok. Interview's over. I promise." He clicked his pen, rolling his eyes in a way that made you hum a giggle. "Just going to run through this checklist now. Is that ok? Look you over?"

You nodded sweetly, his thumb grazing over the back of your hand soothingly.

"How have you been feeling lately, sweetheart?" He said it so earnestly you couldn't tell if he was asking for the exam or if he was truly just checking in on you.

" 'm alright." You yawned. "Been a bit tired from school and all but that's normal, I think." He nodded, scribbling something down.

"Nothing's been hurting you?"

You could have let him dote over you forever. "I mean, I've been a bit anxious. Maybe a headache or a tummy ache here or there but nothing terrible."

" 'm sorry, love." He hummed under his breath as he noted that, and you barely heard him. "Any muscle soreness?"

"Only if I sleep wrong."

You giggled weakly and his heart fluttered at the sound, "Christ, don't I know it." He shook his head. "I wake up feeling bloody geriatric after shows."

You frowned slightly at the idea of him in pain, but he didn't seem too phased as he dug through his bag, pulling out a little reflex hammer and helping you sit up a bit.

"Ok, darling. This won't hurt. Just gonna let you kick me around for a bit eh?" He chuckled and you smiled, watching carefully as he gently tapped a spot on your right kneecap, making your reflex fire. "Good." He cooed, checking off something on the paper before testing your left as well. "Very nice, love."

He gently tucked the little hammer away, before holding out his hands to you.

"Ok sweetheart...I'm gonna hold your hands ok? And I'm going to press up on them. Keep me from lifting them ok? Just push down."

You nodded, pressing down against his hands as he pressed up against yours.

"Good! That's my girl." He grinned. You tried to hide your blush, but were unsure if you'd managed.

He tried the same test in a few other spots and made a note under the little header reading "Musculo-Skeletal" before turning the page. He pulled his stethoscope from his bag,

"I'm sure you're acquainted with this hm?"

You nodded, "You'll listen to my heart?

"And your lungs. Just making sure everything's sounding nice in there." He warmed up the bell on the his sleeve, "Can I tuck this under your shirt collar? Have a listen?"

You laid back for him, allowing him to slip a hand beneath your shirt to press the scope against your heart. You couldn't help the happy, relaxed sigh that escaped you at the feeling of his warm hand on your heart. In all honesty, you were too sleepy to realize that you'd even made a sound in the first place. Again, Roger's tummy flipped. He brushed some baby hairs back from your forehead lovingly and smiled to himself. "That's it, darling. Take those nice deep breaths for me."

You tried to steady your breathing out and think of things not involving the pretty blonde boy beside you, seeing as he could hear your actively rising heartrate. If he noticed, he didn't say anything, but his cheeks were sweet and rosy as he untucked his hand from your collar and wrote something down.

"Perfect...."

You watched his blue eyes focus in as he wrote, his brow furrowing as he made note of your caffeine intake, which he already knew.

"Rog?"

"Hm?" He glanced up to see your sleepy, enamoured face, and he couldn't help but wish he could hold you. Wish he could crawl right into bed and watch those pretty eyes grow heavier and heavier until you couldn't keep them open any longer.

You yawned, "Can I listen to your heart too?"

His eyebrows raised, heart melting. "Of course love...here. Let me just-" He went to find his stethoscope again in his bag, but before he could, you'd crawled in close to him to rest your head against his chest. He wondered momentarily if you'd heard his heart stop. He relaxed into you, wrapping his arms around you for a moment to hold you while you listened. He felt you breathe a laugh into his sweater and he smirked, pulling back a few inches to look at you. "What is it?"

"Sounds just like your drumming."

Roger laughed, giving you a good squeeze and a little kiss on your forehead. Your eyes meet his and your tummy flipped.

He smiled sofly, brushing through your hair with his fingers. "This next part is a bit more... intimate. Is that ok? We don't have to do it at all if you aren't comfortable. Don't want to make you feel bad."

Part of you wanted to run and hide. The other part of you was just too curious. Too desperate to be looked after by the pretty boy holding you on his chest.

"I...I wanna try it."

He rubbed your back soothingly. "Ok darling. Just let me know right away if you change your mind and we'll stop ok?"

You nodded obediently, squirming a bit at the eye contact.

"Alright...do you..um....do you think you can undress for me love? Down to your bra and panties? " A familiar ache formed low in your tummy. You never thought you'd be hearing Roger's voice asking you to undress for him. Again, you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously.

"Do you want me to turn my back, honey?"

"N-No it's ok. I'm ok."

Roger tried to get himself to look away, but he couldn't help but let his eyes trail over your soft tummy and breasts as you pull off your shirt, revealing your bra to him. He'd seen that one come through the wash several times. He never thought he'd get to see it on you.

The blush on your face had slowly started traveling down your chest to your tummy as you unbuttoned your pants, and it took everything in Roger not to groan when you pushed your jeans down off your hips to expose your ass and thighs. He was pulled from his thoughts before he could get himself too worked up though, as you got tangled in the fabric and fell backwards from your knees, flat onto his bed. You giggled and he grinned, enjoying the sound of your laugh and helping you pull them the rest of the way off of your shins and over your ankles.

He saw you give a shiver and chew your thumbnail nervously and he quickly grabbed the corner of his comforter, tugging it up around your shoulders so you could snuggle into it. "Ok...I'm supposed to be identifying pulse points. Does that sound alright?"

You nodded, snug and cozy in his blankets. His heart felt melty at the sight.

"Ok. I'm going to start up here with temporal...lay back for me darling...that's it."

Carefully, he guided your head back to rest against his pillow. You let him hold your face in his hands as he ever so gently felt around your temples with his ring and middle finger. He looked so pretty and focused there, and he held you like that for a moment, feeling your heartbeat.

"Good, sweetheart." He put a check on his list. "Moving down to facial, and carotid."

His fingers trailed down your face lightly to tenderly press just below your jaw. Everything in you wanted to whimper and arch into his touches, but you managed to ignore the urge. He placed another check down on his paper before moving to cradle your neck.

"This is a sensitive spot, so tell me if it hurts, ok?"

Holding your neck with one hand, Roger grazed two of his fingers along your sternum, pressing them carefully along your collarbone. It didn't hurt. Just a light pressure, right against your throat. " 's that hurting?"

"N-No..." you whispered, not quite trusting your voice.

"Good..." Roger swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the ache in his stomach.

He continued down your chest, feeling the pulse below your breast as well as the ones down your arms. He paused for a moment when he saw the last on his list, his cheeks going rosy.

"What is it?" You cooed, taking his hand in your little one. Warmth bloomed across his chest and he felt a tug at the corners of his mouth.

"This last one is um...well...it's right here." Roger sat up on his knees to show you the spot... Right along his thigh below his stomach. Oh.

"Oh..."

He scratched his neck, about to just shake off the whole idea and mark that one off the list, when you spread your legs ever so slightly for him.

He took a little breath, surprised. "Oh love, we can just mark it off if you'd like. Are you sure? "

You nodded, yawning again. Perhaps normally you'd have a bit more energy to be embarrassed or insecure, but right now? You were all his. Completely malleable. You were sleepy and his hands were warm and he always hummed the sweetest little words of encouragment as he worked. He could have touched you wherever he'd liked and you wouldn't have minded it. You knew Roger would take care of you.

You tugged at the waistband of your panties a bit, "Need t' take 'em off?"

His stomach jumped and he caught your hand, rubbing his thumb over your wrist as he gave your hip a squeeze. "No no 's alright sweetheart. Just lay back for me. I'll be quick."

You nodded and rubbed your eyes, wiggling a bit to get comfy again. Roger paused for a moment, letting his eyes trace over your chest and your pretty little tummy...just soft enough to make you warm and grabable. God and your hips...Roger could have written sonnets about your hips and your thighs. He could've spent hours admiring your soft arms and your back and the little freckles that dotted you here and there and-

He shook his head, clearing his throat as he thumbed at the waistband of your underwear. "Ok, love. I've got you. Just lay nice and still for me alright?"

You took his free hand in yours and held it loosely. Carefully, Roger tapped the crease of your thigh, "Right here. Can I slide my fingers under your panties, love?"

You nodded, watching him with hooded eyes. He swallowed thickly, pushing his fingers inside the leg hole of your underwear and feeling your heartbeat against your skin. "Doing so well for me, honey." He whispered, counting the beats in his head. Finally, he pulled his fingers from your panties and scribbled down a number and a check mark.

"Alright love. You can get your shirt back on." He smiled, giving your leg a squeeze.

You sat up on your elbows, glancing around the bed and frowning as you searched for your top. Roger chucked as you looked under the pillows and blankets. You frowned, defeated, and crossed your arms.

"Aw lamb..." He laughed softly at the scene, "You want one of mine?"

Just as he'd expected, your pretty eyes lit up a bit and you nodded. He grinned to himself, getting up to retrieve an old tshirt from his dresser and toss it to you.

Your hair mussed when you pulled it on, and god, he wanted to kiss you and muss it even more. He had definitely had a dream like this before; you in his bed wearing nothing but his shirt and your panties, sleepy and happy and waiting for him.

Yes. Waiting for him.

Roger cleared his throat and pulled a little pen light from his bag, "Alright, sweetheart, I'm gonna have you follow this light with your eyes, not your head. Sound alright?" You nodded sweetly, looking very small in his old shirt.

He watched you carefully as you followed the light, realizing quickly how heavy your eyes were getting. You were good for him nonetheless, answering little questions about when the light left your sight and which finger he was wiggling in your peripheral vision. He set his papers down when he saw you fighting to keep your eyes open, clicking off the light and climbing onto the bed.

"Whats wrong?" You hum, concerned you'd somehow misunderstood his directions.

"Nothings wrong, angel. We're just gonna get you tucked in, hm?"

He slowly guided your shoulders to lay you down on the mattress, combing through your hair with his fingers and he fluffed his pillow for you.

"B-But we aren't done yet....not done Rog..."

He chuckled at your little frown. "Sure we are."

"You never looked at my tummy." You pouted sleepily, concerned that he hadn't gotten what he needed, but more so wanting him to keep touching you. "Or my ears."

He smiled amusedly, gently coaxing your head to turn slightly to the left and right before cradling your face where you lay, his thumb tracing your jaw.

"They're very pretty ears." He stated matter of factly, pretending to scribble it down.

"Rog..." You wanted to keep going for him. You wanted to be a good patient like he said.

"Hey, I'll keep going, love, but you still have to lay down for me ok? Try and rest?"

You nodded obediently and god you looked so pretty all laid out for him. You took his hand, laying it on your belly encouragingly as you gave yet another yawn.

He giggled sneaking a hand beneath your shirt to rub your hip sweetly. " 's it ok if I touch you here, lamb?" He grazed the bend of his knuckle up and down the center of your tummy and you squirmed, nodding.

You let your eyes rest as his hands held your hips, his thumbs gently pressing inward to feel in a circle around your hip bones. He used two fingers to carefully press down right below your belly button before gently feeling around the spot. You whimpered softly.

' 's that hurt?" He whispered, still examining you.

"No." You squeaked, "No 'm ok."

He hummed a chuckle softly to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Felt nice?"

You give a little "Yes", too blissed out by the feeling on his warm hands to care about being embarrassed. Your eyes fluttered as you heard him write something down. He fished his otoscope from his bag and flipped it on, scooting closer to gently cradle your face again.

"Gonna look at your brain, now." You giggled, turning your head for him to take a look in your ears. "I should be having you look in my ears, really." He hummed softly as he peered through the scope. "Hearing's gone to shit from the drums."

" 's not as bad as your eyes, though." You teased, pushing his glasses up on his nose where they'd, once again, drifted down.

He laughed, turning your head to the other side. "My eyes have gone to shit, hearing's busted...My bones are always aching. I lose my voice once or twice a week. I'm falling apart, aren't I?"

"No..." you cooed softly as he put away the otoscope, and looked him in the eye again. "Just need someone to look after you."

"That's a hard job." His heart fluttered as he held your face again, moving down to gently feel your lymph nodes. You crooned into his touch.

"Not all that hard..." you yawned, eyes once again growing heavy. "Not for someone who loves you."

He smiled. You'd said it so surely. As if there wasn't a doubt in your mind that he was worth taking care of.

"Come're sweetheart." He whispered, cheeks still bright pink. He helped you sit up, guiding you to straddle his legs and settle in his lap. "Now normally this would be done on an exam table, of course." He chuckled softly. "But for now, just give me a big hug, ok? Just relax into me."

He barely got the words out before you'd snuggled up in his arms, giving him perfect access to feel and examine your neck and back.

His hands were gentle as he worked, knowing you often got sore around your neck and shoulders after longer days. You squirmed and whimpered a bit as his fingers grazed your tensed up muscles.

" 's that hurt?" He frowned against your temple.

"No...m jus' tense. I'm ok."

He didn't fight you, though he knew it was hurting you, and instead slowly rubbed small, light circles over the spot. It was uncomfortable at first, but quickly you relaxed into his body warmth as he worked the knots from your shoulders. You fidgeted ever so slightly at the hurt, but melted and cooed softly at the relief it gave you.

"That's my girl..." he sighed, giving you a moment recover from the sensitivity. He kissed your head softly. He wished he could paint. You looked like an angel, warm and soft and perfect.

You finally nodded off after a few minutes, and Roger carefully snuck a hand beneath the back of your shirt to unclasp your bra, maneuvering the straps off your arms without exposing you. "There we are." He whispered, laying you down against his mattress tenderly. Your eyes fluttered as he tossed it off of his bed. "Bet that's a bit more comfy hm?" You nodded, giving a little stretch and holding his hand tight in yours.

"Did...did you finish?" You croaked sweetly, looking up at him with drowsy eyes.

He grinned fondly at you, amazed you were still worried about the exam as you continued to fight to stay awake for him. "I did, silly girl. Check up's over and I've made my diagnosis."

"What's that?" His hair looked so soft and fluffed. Curly. He must have just washed it the night before.

"I'm afraid I'll have to prescribe bed rest. Quite a bit. And a good dinner when you wake up."

You giggled and yawned, but fowned a bit as he tucked his glasses into his back pocket.

He chuckled at your pout, "What's wrong?"

You felt childish, but it all seemed very important in your exhausted brain. "You're so pretty in your glasses but you won't ever even wear them unless you have too."

He laughed, and grinned. "Ohhh love." He crawled up to lay beside you on his bed, getting comfy on top of the covers. "I'm so sorry. I'd no idea I was depriving you so."

You were quick to curl up against his body warmth, tucking the blanket around him and letting his arms cradle you against his chest. He admired you as you rested there, looking so lovely that Roger was almost sure he was dreaming.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" He whispered, eyes focusing on how your eyelashes rested against your cheeks.

Your heart stopped for a moment and you realized you'd gotten your wish. Here you were, tucked into Rogers bed with him as he played with your hair and drew little pictures over your skin with his fingertips....and on top of that, now he was asking if you thought he was pretty. "I think you're beautiful. So lovely. Lovely, Rog."

He gave a shakey breath and smiled. He could have held you forever. You seemed so small and precious all tucked away in his arms. "You're my pretty girl, too. Such a soft little thing, aren't you?"

Your eyes fought their weight but he cooed to you softly, "There's my little love. That's it. Just rest." And you all too quickly gave in to his body warmth.

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@fairytales-of-yesterday

@meddowscrl

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fic #roger x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor x oc #queen #queen band #queen x reader

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tatooinebarnes · 1 year

Text

Ghost of You - A Roger Taylor Collection

Magdalena Lierens has been assigned to be Queen's tour manager during their first tour of the United States. She didn't ever anticipate that would turn into following a certain blonde with gorgeous eyes across oceans, through over crowded concert halls and into secluded dressing rooms.

complete, 33k words

originally begun in early 2019 here. also on wattpad and ao3

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol use, swearing, anxiety, mentions of depression, implied sexual content. basically it’s a 70s rockstar fic so that’s its own warning

disclaimer: tbh i think real person fiction is kinda weird and other than using Queen as inspiration, this isn’t about them as real people. writing this allowed me to develop Lena as a character i love but i will not be writing future fics about real people

+ a little visual i made once for this fic

Part 1 - 16 April 1974 - First USA performance

It was their first performance on U.S. soil. For what she had heard about them, she thought the venue was too small to contain their reputation, let alone their egos. And she kinda felt bad for the headlining band because as of now, it looked like Queen would go down in history as legendary, where the headliners would only be known for being there when Queen first played the U.S.

What Lena was doing here, she wasn’t quite sure, she had just been told that for the next months until this tour was over, she would be managing many of the behind-the-scenes Queen affairs. She decided not to question why she would be assigned this sort of task, but it was only ever once in your life you were told that you should manage famous rock stars with zero experience. Lena had yet to actually meet the band as they were late, as per usual. The headlining band’s singer was pacing the stage, looking out over the empty grounds anxiously.

“What could they possibly be doing. They were supposed to be here to soundcheck hours ago.”

Just then, a car door banged in the distance and followed by a round of unruly laughter. They had finally arrived, Lena thought.

With much flipping of hair and a chorus of “Hello Darlings!” to everyone Freddie saw, the band entered the venue.

Hours later, the hall was packed full of people, a writhing sweaty mass, drinking in all the rock n’roll thrown at them. At first the crowd had seemed hesitant at the force with which Queen had arrived onto the stage, but it was not long before they fell right into the swing of Freddie’s phantasmagoria. Meeting the band had been about as eventful as Lena had imagined. Freddie had greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek, Brian with a warm smile, John with a hesitant half grin and Roger with a wink. She watched them play to the crowd now. They were more incredible to watch than she had envisioned; Brian with his passionate playing, John with his weird little dancing, Roger’s focus and flare, and Freddie’s sheer passion. Lena watched them with intensity, marveling at their stage presence and they way they commanded the still unsure crowd.

Their set was over as soon as it had begun and the band came prancing off stage as the headlining band went on.

“What did you think darling?” Freddie asked.

Before she had a chance to answer, Roger interrupted, “Of course she thought it was wonderful. What other reaction would there be?”

Lena just rolled her eyes, “I was going to say that I was very impressed, especially with your playing songs that were released only a few days ago.”

“Oh so you’re a fan?” Freddie said.

“I just did my research. I figured I should know a bit about you before I spend the next two months making sure you survive.”

“Well then darling, let us all go out together and you can finish your research by having a drink with us.”

“I don’t think-”

“I am sure it is perfectly acceptable. Now let us go.”

To no surprise of Lena, but to the immense surprise of the band, there were no clubs of the sort they were looking for. After living in the States for even a short amount of time it was evident that in the more rural parts, even in a city like Denver, there was a desperate lack of clubs and places which a band like Queen might frequent. They were not perturbed by this state of affairs and still insisted that they go out for drinks. At Lena’s recommendation they arrived at the most acceptable bar they could find.

A slow, almost jazzy rendition of of an old rock song was being played on the stage, and although crowded with patrons, the place was fairly docile compared to anything Queen might be accustomed to. The band’s flamboyant dress caught many an eye, but to Lena’s surprise, the four remained quiet and reserved over the course of sipping their drinks.

“Care to dance darling?” Freddie asked when the grizzled old man on the stage began to sing a swaying melody.

Accepting his request, Lena let herself be led into the midst of a small collection of other couples dancing. It felt weird to slow dance like this, regardless of the fact that she was dancing with a famous rockstar. The song was shorter than Lena had expected it to be, but at a rustling of the mic and screeching of a stool across the floor, Lena looked up to see Brian situating himself on said stool with the old man’s guitar. Freddie almost giggled as he rolled his eyes. Brian’s accent caught the attention of everyone in the room as he introduced himself, and began to play. It was a song unlike any of the ones they had played in their accompaniment of Mott and the Hopple earlier that night, but an acoustic song that triggered in Lena’s memory, but she couldn’t remember from where.

“Can I cut in?” Roger’s voice sounded at her shoulder.

Freddie winked in response, and expertly spun Lena around to land squarely in Roger’s grip.

Lena was not particularly surprised to find herself here, based on what she had heard about the drummer’s illustrious reputation. And she supposed that one dance couldn’t hurt.

Roger certainly did not have the same sort of elegance that Lena was used to in dancing partners, but this was not to say he could not dance. His hand on her waist, the other hand in hers felt electric, not something she had foreseen. In spinning circles they danced wordless around the room, Brian’s voice filling up the room, like a warm feeling bubbling over. For some unidentifiable reason, this moment felt more real than any she had experienced in the past decade.

Brian’s song ended, but he began another, this one too eliciting a tender feeling of belonging in Lena’s chest. She wanted to focus on the song being played, the unusual familiarity it played in her heart, but for some reason she could not keep her attention on that. Instead, she noticed the way the warm light fell on Roger’s hair made it appear more ginger than blonde, and she supposed it did the same to hers. She wondered if it clashed badly with her orange top.

She found herself shaken at this thought of worrying at her appearance. For one, she was supposed to be their employee. For two, this was not time in her life for allowing her feelings to interrupt her daily discourse. She was shaken out of this string of thought when she felt Roger’s fingers on the thin strip exposed skin between her top and bell bottoms. She guessed he had felt her tense at the contact, for the touch immediately vanished and his conversation and eye contact faltered.

For the remainder of the song Lena recognized a certain, careful hesitance in a his words. A hesitance for which she was grateful. As the song concluded, Roger detached himself and pulled her from the dance floor grasping her hand in his.

By the time they reached John and Freddie, Brain had also removed himself from the stage. Roger dropped her hand as they neared the group.

“As wonderful as that was, really Brian, was that all together necessary?” Roger asked.

“About as necessary as your dancing with our new tour manager.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lena said, noticing a slight blush rise in Roger’s cheeks, “I thought they were both wonderful. Roger,” she said looking at each in turn, “you’re a fine dancer, and Brain your non rock and roll voice is absolutely lovely.”

Later that night when they exited the bar Lena was filled with a joy and anticipation for the coming months. She had decided that she like them all immensely and could not wait to partake in whatever adventures the might encounter. But her eyes kept flickering back to Roger, to his blonde hair and clear blue eyes. How unlike he was to anyone she had before deemed as worthy of her time. WHether he was actually worth her time she did not know, but as of now he had not really lived up to his reputation of being an absolute player, and she wondered if it was all rumors. Those rumors had to come from somewhere though.

On a what Lena presumed to be the last running bus of the night, that Freddie had insisted on riding, the five of them sat together, accompanied only one other, only mildly sketchy looking man. She wondered what that man thought of their little posse. Brian and Freddie with their dark hair and abstract hairstyles, joking with John, who was looking like a Renaissance painting. And then there was the blonde man, looking almost too pretty to be included with the rest of them, that kept shooting glances at the blonde girl. As much as Roger thought that Lena didn’t see those stolen glances, she saw them, and wasn’t sure if she should return the gaze. As they exited the bus a block from their hotel, she felt Roger’s hand at her back, and at every other excuse he could seem to find to touch her in a casual way, he took.

As Lena rummaged for their room keys from her briefcase, they walked into the hotel, it’s green walls reflecting the light to further establish that it was most definitely the mid nineteen seventies. She led the way to their rooms, giving them each their respective keys. She dropped Roger’s into his hand and felt herself hesitate for a fraction of a second, her hand almost imperceptibly hovering over his.

Then she retracted her hand, flashed him a smile and slipped into her own room, pressing her back against the door. This was ridiculous, she thought, why was her heart thudding in her chest? Why did her palms feel like they were buzzing with energy? Why did she have butterflies in her stomach?

Part 2 - 20 November 1974: Live at the Rainbow

It had been almost eight months since she had met them. Eight months which had brought her immense joy and had been an emotional roller coaster. She felt more real, as if she were are real member of society, not someone just floating on the edges, despite the fact that she recognized that this group was far from living what one might consider to be the average life.

Their American tour had been cut short when Brian had fallen sick with hepatitis, but the band had insisted that they loved her too much to let her go so soon. And she really must come back “across the pond” with them. Really she must, Freddie had insisted. And, “what would they do without her” Deaky had asked. So with seeing no good reason not to, she updated her passport, had her company transfer her, and followed four hooligans with big hair and too much sound equipment across an ocean. For the first months there she spent most of her time bouncing between the boy’s houses, random hotels and other crew members couches. Then she found a little flat that overlooked the city, a little place that was just in her price range and fit her minimalist standard. Mostly, it was just very surreal to be here in this century, with the way the way it was so different than home, yet so much the same.

Not all of her time was spent with the band, as her company elected to keep her quite busy, but frankly, she did not mind. She still had feelings to sort out with regards to the band. And furthermore, too much time spent with them could be exhausting. They loved having her there, taking her out to their favorite clubs, or to play smaller gigs or to just run around the city causing havoc. There were country drives and meeting everyone’s families. Lena was not sure exactly why they all liked her so much, but she gave up asking after Freddie’s mother informed her that she had never seen Roger so happy in all the time she had known him.

That fact itself was the whole reason she supposed she was still here. There was something between Lena and the blonde drummer. Nothing had happened, there had only been graspings of her hand as they ran down empty streets or catching around the waist before she became enveloped in a crowd of fans, but still there was something there in the way he treated her with uttermost respect and cheerful teasing.

Now she stood stage side, watching Freddie twirl around the stage for the second night in a row, as he theatrically whirled his outfit. . Brian looking like a great white bird with his long white sleeves that she could not understand how they did not hinder his playing. Deaky danced his little Disco Deaky dance. And Roger was out there being Roger. Despite the fact that the show had barely begun, the lights having just risen to reveal the band to the crowd, Roger looked like he was already sweaty and like he would soon be regretting the outfit he had haphazardly chosen to wear as it slipped off his shoulders. He had been in a particularly awful mood prior to going on, but had still stopped and squeezed her hand before running on stage.

She watched as she always watched, just barely out of view, a figure in the shadows. Tonight she almost longed to be in the crowd due to the sheer energy in the room. This performance was too iconic to not want to be experiencing every moment of it to its fullest extent. They filtered through the same set they had the night before, everything being played just different enough when live to make it all the more fantastic. Even from her vantage point Roger was becoming increasingly more annoyed as the night went on, although about what she could not determine. But it only fueled his ability to sound wonderful. She still didn’t understand how he could sing normally that one gritty way, but then moments later sing in that high falsetto. His drum solo was spectacular that night, outrageous as he could possibly make it. In fact, everything about that night was spectacular.

That is until at the set’s end he destroyed the drum set, trashing it, sending Deaky scampering away from him and the other two keeping their distance. He swaggered off the stage, obvious annoyance still in his posture. When he reached her though, a grin lit his face and he was laughing almost manically.

“You okay Rog?”

“Never been better! Now let’s go. Get outta here.”

“Are you sure you’re good?” Brian said slinging his guitar behind him as Freddie and Deaky appeared behind him.

“Just got a little excited is all. Now come on. Let’s get outta here. I need a drink.”

Everyone looked at each other and then back at Roger.

“Let’s just avoid that again, shall we?” Lena said, “That just makes for some annoying paperwork and other various things in replacing stuff.”

Roger only rolled his eyes and stalked away and the others followed after giving Lena apologetic looks. Lena thought she heard Brian beginning to scold Roger for talking to her that way, saying, “You really ought to be nicer to her man, especially if-”

“I don’t and there’s no ‘if’ statements happening anywhere near her, now will you be quiet!”

Their arguments faded and became indistinguishable. Lena gave a soft snort. Of course this was about her. Roger had been in mood he thought he hid well ever since he had caught sight of her dancing with some guy at a club last week. Which arguably, she had done for the explicit purpose of seeing how he would react, but she was starting to become annoyed by his behaviour. She pondered this while she waited on them to collect their things. After the usual eternity of waiting they met her by the back doors to the theatre and prepared to exit.

As soon as the doors opened a wave of high screams washed over them. Lena plunged into the crowd after the band, attempting to allow herself to almost blend in as to not draw attention. She had become fairly good at this in the past months, but every once in a while she would allow too much of a distance to fall between her and the band, separating them. Realizing that this was exactly what had occured in the midst of this crowd that had previously inhabited the Rainbow, she felt a small twinge of panic in her stomach.

But, just as on many previous occasions, she felt someone latch onto her wrist, dragging her through the crowd. It was of course Roger, looking more annoyed than he usually did after any occasion of saving her from groupies.

“Jesus woman, you have really got to get better at not being lost in the crowd. Why are you so afraid of being seen with us?” he whisper yelled into her ear over the noise of the crowd.

“I would just rather not be photographed and have my face plastered on the covers of newspapers. You know that.”

“But you’re our tour manager, it would be perfectly normal for the press to have a field day in discovering that a woman could possibly figure out how to effectively manage us,” he said sarcastically.

Lena climbed into the car he held open for her, “I would hardly say I’m you tour manager anymore, I just happen to be allowed into all of the places because you guys want me to. And I answer questions of people who have very specific questions about all the band’s specific needs. A job that could be done by anyone. Or frankly not at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous darling,” Freddie interrupted, “We absolutely adore you and you are a necessary part of our team.”

The rest of the car ride back to the Freddie’s was uncharacteristically quiet. Roger had fallen back into his sulky mood and the others seemed to follow suit. Upon arrival at Freddie’s there was a small party already in full swing, but nothing compared to the normal status of Freddie’s parties, but still, Lena wrinkled her nose; she was not in the mood to deal with these sorts of people.

“I saw that look Lena. Why do you always turn up your nose at my parties?” Freddie asked.

“Because they are exhausting. And I would currently love to go home.”

“No, do stay, you always leave early. I will personally mix you your favorite drink.”

Lena rolled her eyes but agreed and followed them into the house. Roger was still sulky and tracked too closely on her heels. Everything was in a constant state of motion in Freddie’s house, an abomination of existence for anyone who was already tired or not in the mood for a party. Even Freddie personally mixing her drink did not convince her to commit to the the swing of the party.

She found herself alone with her drink, a little bitter after she had dumped a couple extra shots in. Lena wandered upstairs and entered Freddie’s marvelous library. She ran her fingers across the rows and rows of books, occasionally pulling one from its place. One of her favorite things about this library was the tall french doors that opened on to a small balcony. Picking her way through the shadowed room she hesitated in surprise when she saw there was already someone on the balcony.

But the now slightly limp hair gave the figure away as being Roger and she ventured onto the balcony with him. When the doors squealed on their hinges Roger whirled, about to spout profanities at whoever dared to disturb his peace.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said before leaning his elbows back on the wide railing.

“Why are you up here?”

“Because I don’t feel like being cheerful. I would much rather wallow in my misery by myself.”

“Well that is no fun at all. Let me join you in your misery,” Lena said crossing the balcony and resting her elbows next to his.

Roger was silent in response and Lena decided to let him be until he decided he had something to say. This lasted for a few long moments before Lena realized he was going to be indifferent and ignore her.

“Roger, why are you being like this.”

“Like what. I’m being exactly me.”

“No you’re not. The man I met eight months ago wouldn’t turn down a party. Especially after a show like that. And the man I heard rumors about before that wouldn’t turn down the prospect of all those beautiful A-List actresses down there.”

“Oh wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I seem to have never met that man.”

“And did it ever occur to you why that might be?” he said, looking at her, mild frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well, I could give you reasons. But I think I’d rather you tell me yourself.”

“Oh you’re so exhausting.”

“No I’m not. I’m just waiting for you.”

“To what, tell you that I’m in love with you? And I couldn’t stand the thought of being with anyone but you. From the moment I met you.”

Lena bit her lip, her smile lighting up her eyes, “That was more than I was expecting. But essentially yes,” she breathed.

“I can’t drown it out anymore. I always do try to ignore the way you make me feel. But as dumb as it sounds, I can’t.”

“Rog-“

No listen. You didn’t know me before. You make me better. It’s so much easier to do this touring thing when you’re here.

“Rog.”

“What?”

“Just kiss me.”

And he did. It was not the sort of kiss she had imagined more times than she cared to admit. He didn’t ask permission or hint at any reservation. Lena knotted her fingers in his hair and sighed in satisfaction that finally after all these months of wondering, she had been correct in her presumptions. Roger gripped her face, more careful she guessed, than he had ever kissed anyone before. It was like a buzzing of electricity that had been exactly meant to arc over these certain pieces that were Roger and Lena.

The french doors flew open with a slam, rattling the panes in the glass.

“Ah-ha!” I knew it!” a delighted, slightly tipsy Deaky shouted, his girlfriend Veronica in tow behind him.

Lena jumped backward in response to this intrusion, while Roger barely seemed to notice.

“Really Deaks, you had to interrupt.”

“This calls for a band meeting I think,” and without pausing, Deaky rushed to the edge of the balcony and called down to the crowd below, “Fred! Bri! You’re needed up here immediately!”

Lena looked down to see many heads turn upwards in response. From that far away she wondered if people could see that her face had turned tomato red. Unlikely. But still. Embarrassing.

To everyone’s surprise Freddie’s voice sounded back. A path cleared for him and he was followed by the large head of hair that was Brian. Lena was trying to configure her way out of the situation and extract herself before anyone else could come persecute her about making out with a pretty rock star, but Roger would have none of that. Now that he had kissed her and gained her permission to openly show his affection, it did not seem to matter to him that this was altogether an uncomfortable situation.

Deaky was still giggling when they heard Brain’s clogs on the tiled floor outside the library and Freddie’s merry laughter.

“What is the emergency darlings? Don’t tell me someone has died. We were just getting into the groove of things.”

“No. SO much better than that,” Deaky laughed, brushing his hair out of his face, “You will not guess what I walked in on.”

Brain immediately grinned. “Based on Lena’s flaming red face and Roger’s uncharacteristic silence, I could probably exactly guess.”

Part 3 - Early 1975: Somewhere In London

In only a couple weeks they would be off to a recording studio in the country. Times were changing as the band’s fame escalated and Lena’s relationship with Roger took a more serious turn. At this exact moment she found herself standing on the doorstep of narrow white house, three stories tall, slid in among other almost identical little homes. She had arrived in an unusual moment of sunshine where the rain did not berate her to go inside. She lifted her her hand to rap on the door, wondering why in the world Roger would have so mysteriously invited her here.

A moment later the door opened to reveal Roger’s beaming face. He almost buzzed with excitement as she entered the house, unable to stop babbling. To Lena’s surprise the house was vacant of all furniture and empty of any proof of anyone residing there. Despite the small outside appearance, the light white of the walls and floor to ceiling windows made it appear open and large. As Roger led her up the stairs she noticed her palms were sweating with stress; there could be approximately one reason why he would have brought her to this empty house; a house in perfect location to be accessible to both of their current places of employment, a place in her favorite part of town, a place that exuded hominess.

When they reached the top floor and the tour ended in what was likely the master bedroom as it opened out onto a small french doored balcony, Roger stopped his chattering and turned to face her seriously.

“Lena love, I know that this is weird to ask. And I do acknowledge your full right to say no. Because if I were you I would say no too. But I love you and I want to spend as much time as I can with you. And so I think that maybe, the best way to do that, is if you would give me the pleasure of moving in with me?”

She knew that he had been planning to ask her this, or at least some version of this for some time now. And she thanked the Lord that he had not asked the other question. His hands were on her arms, blue eyes looking at her with a yearning for her to respond positively. With deep desperation she wanted to say yes, but she still felt that fear that it would all shatter violently pulling her to say no. If she said yes, everything would change and there would be no avoiding that she was Roger’s girl, there would be no avoiding the terror that was the paparazzi. But if she said no she would lose the best thing that had happened to her, she would lose this love of her life.

“Say something Lena,” Roger whispered.

“I-,” her mind was whirling with her mild terror and selfish reasons for not wanting to fully commit to this relationship. “Of, course Rog,” she heard herself saying, “I would love to live with you.”

After a sigh of relief he leaned in to kiss her, grinning as his mouth met hers, and instantly Lena felt reassured. It would be worth it, all the craziness, all the people, it would be worth it.

He suddenly pulled away from the kiss and almost skipped across the room to where the a pristinely white record player sat, embedded carefully into the wall as to not attract attention from the rest of the room. She watched him with interest as he pulled a 45 record from the bag she had noticed had been present in the house when she arrived. Before he dropped the needle down he grinned at her.

The old jazz filled the room, instantly flashing her back to the memories of where she had first heard such music. Roger ventured back to her, “Care to dance Lena?”

She melted into his arms, letting him steer them around the empty room. “This song, how did you find it?”

“Brian. It took him a while, but he was eventually able to scour up a forty five. It’s some song from the fifties. I’ve really never even heard of the artist.”

Lena smiled, closing her eyes. Maybe she had heard this song somewhere before meeting Roger, but now it would be her and Roger’s song, a reminder of their time spent together, whether it be of awkward first meetings or dances in empty houses that would soon be theirs together. Dancing around the room Lena wondered how she could have possibly ended up here, after all the things her life had offered her and thrust upon her, how could she have ended up in the arms of a gorgeous rockstar with a heart of gold and eyes like pools of the clearest water she’d ever seen. Yet here she was, through it all, they were here together.

Part 4 - Mid-1975: Ridge farm

Lena killed the engine of the car far out of sight of the old farmhouse she knew to be Ridgefarm. Only a few windows remained lit, but she focused on the one she knew to be Roger’s. Freddie had explicitly forbade anybody but the band and recording personnel to be present during this last couple weeks of recording because he wanted there to be no distractions in their attempts to finish this album. Lena understood that, but sincerely doubted that the band was accomplishing as much as Freddie insisted they were without distractions. So Lena had elected that the best way to see Roger was to sneak into the Ridgefarm grounds at various times throughout their stay there. Shutting her car door silently Lena reflected that this action was exceptionally unlike her, sneaking into somewhere to see a boy. But much of what she these days was unlike the way she imagined herself to be; it was not all bad, just different.

When she reached below Roger’s window she hoised herself up the trellis and through the vines growing on the side of the old building and up to the glass. Peering in the room, the appeared to be empty, although the lamp was on. With a careful push she slid the window open with minimal noise and slipped inside. The door to the room was shut, but she caught snippets of the conversation from the rooms below and guessed that it would be a long while before this particular band discussion was over.

Lena laid down on the bed, wrapped herself in quilt and stared at the ceiling. The quilt smelled distinctly of Roger and Lena felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. Despite how odd her life had become and how she found herself doing the strangest of things to spend time with him or avoid being pursued by paparazzi, it was joy to be doing such things by her own desire rather than spending her every waking moment dedicated to her job as she had for too long spend doing. She lay contemplating this and day dreaming of the summer days left to spend with Roger and the rest of them, before long drifting off to sleep.

“Roger Meddows Taylor! Get your ass up here!” a voice laughed loudly as the bedroom door slammed, causing Lena to sit straight up on the bed and stare at Brian with wide eyes. Roger burst into the room a moment later.

“What!” he demanded harshly, and then concluded with a soft “Oh” when he saw Lena, a slight grin on his lips.

“You send me up to get your dumb lyrics and proceed to forget that you illegally, by Freddie’s rules anyway, invited Lena. That’s a whole new level of forgetfulness, even for you Rog,” Brian grinned.

“Really Roger, I did tell you I was coming,” Lena said, pretending to pout.

“I really am sorry love. It’s just this discussion,” he looked pointedly at Brian, “that we are having over the b-side of our single.”

Before anyone else could respond Freddie’s voice called up the stairs, “What’s going on up there? We have things to do you know.”

“Lena was just-” Brian began to call back before Roger slapped a hand over Brian’s mouth.

“Lena? Lena isn’t supposed to be here?” Freddie’s voice returned, coming closer now. He stepped into the room a moment later frowning at Lena. “Really you couldn’t stay away for just two weeks?”

“Well arguably, it’s been longer than two weeks and the time you all have spend recording this thing have been months beyond that.”

“Valid. But darling we have still so much to do.”

“Well from the sounds of it you all were doing nothing but arguing over whose songs are most important-”

“Potentially, but now that you’re here, new subject, because I finally procured your birthday present,” Freddie said.

Before Lena could respond that her birthday was literally months ago, Deaky’s voice sounded from the floor below.

“I’ll just be down here drinking tea whenever you all are ready to come back down.”

Lena snorted slightly and followed the others down to the kitchen.

“Oh hello Lena. How are you?” Deaky said, seemingly without surprise to see her.

“Lovely thank you.”

“Now,” Freddie said pulling a box from a cupboard, “I was looking for just the right thing for your birthday, but then Roger got you that gorgeous red leather jacket, and there was no way I could one up that, so I was just waiting for something perfect to come along. Then the other day I was realizing that you in no way visibly affiliate with the band. Which I know is on purpose, but I thought you should have a little something that is from us, as Queen, to you.”

“So this really is from all of us, although it was Freddie’s idea,” Deaky said.

“Go on, open it now,” Brian said pushing the box toward Lena.

Lena shook her head at them, grinning, and untied the ribbon that held the box closed. From inside she pulled a simple jean jacket with “QUEEN” printed repeatedly vertically on the back in the typical Queen logo font.

“See darling, now you have a little bit of representation of the band, and because you are a Queen,” Freddie said excitedly.

“Thank you all so much, I absolutely love it.”

“But not as much as you love me?” Roger said grinning.

“Yes thank you Rog,” Brain said, “We all definitely need you to confirm that she loves you.”

Brian sniggered and ducked his head as both Roger and Lena simultaneously smacked him.

Freddie ignored the exchange; “Go on, put it on!”

So Lena did and paraded the jacket around for all to see, and even Paul, who had unfortunately come in to see what all the noise was about gave his approval. And Lena had to admit that it was the perfect gift from the band; it was a very high quality jacket that was sure to last decades and gave her a fun but none too outrageous association with the band. Well perhaps it was a bit much to have “Queen” stamped repeatedly vertically across your back, but still, she loved the jacket.

“Really though, now that you have that finally, get out, you’re disrupting the flow of our recording process.” Freddie said.

“You’re not going to at least let her stay the night and not travel back in the dark?” Deaky asked somewhat sarcastically.

“Because Lena staying the night with Roger is something we would all be hearing about anyway-” Brian started.

Lena genuinely hit him with actual force this time, “Will you stop it?”

Brain just sniggered as Freddie began, “Well I suppose if you stayed that would give Roger some motivation to actually cook something delightful for breakfast, because thus far he has only been helpful in making approximately one pot of coffee.

“See Rog is the best cook out of all of us,” Deaky explained to Lena, “But he only really is willing to cook when he has you to impress.”

“Oh sure,” Lena said, rolling her eyes.

“It is true, I have left these hooligans to fend for themselves,” Roger said, but with you here I could be convinced to impress you all with a gourmet breakfast.”

Freddie clapped his hands together, “It’s settled then, you may stay!”

“Thanks dad,” Lena said sarcastically.

That night Lena slept soundly wrapped in Roger’s arms, happy to be here not only with Roger, but with the rest of them, whom she now regarded as her family.

The next morning Lena found herself alone in the bed but could faintly pick up the smell of coffee wafting up from below. Padding down the stairs of the drafty old house she made her way into the kitchen where Roger was well on his way to a strong display of his cooking skills.

Lena stole a piece of bacon and went on her way to pouring coffee as Roger hummed some unfamiliar song that she guessed must be a part of their new album.

“How did you sleep love?” Roger asked.

“Quite good actually. You?”

“Wonderful because you were there.”

Lena rolled her eyes and sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen’s island.

“What is the plan for today then?”

“Well we are still recording, so I suppose you could sit in on that if Freddie will allow it. He has been very particular about this album. Especially this one song we are working on. I think you’ll like it though.”

And like it she did. They were still perfecting little pieces of it, but it was for the most part done, the masterpiece that was Bohemian Rhapsody. Standing behind the glass watching Freddie’s one last little retake, or so he said, Lena felt the gravity of the moment, realizing she was witnessing history being made. Roger came up behind her and put his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms about her waist.

“Quite impressive isn’t it?”

“It amazing,” she breathed.

They continued to listen, Lena becoming increasingly more impressed with everyone’s contribution to the song, from John’s bass that she just barely heard, Roger’s falsettos, Brian’s overall aesthetic and just Freddie being Freddie.

“What did you think of that Lena, dear?” Freddie asked when he came back into the sound booth.

“It was absolutely incredible Fred, I’m so excited to hear the whole album.”

“Well I can’t spoil the whole thing for you, but I suppose we could share one more with you. And because its you, I’ll play the whole thing for you live. Come along in with me.”

“If you say so.”

Lena followed Roger and Freddie into the studio, and sat down on an amp as Freddie sat at the piano. Roger sat on the ground next to her in such a way that he let his head rest in the curve of her waist. Lena gasped Roger’s hand as Freddie began the song, and Lena again wondered what a marvel it was to be able to watch Freddie play.

“Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don't take it away from me, because you don't know

What it means to me”

By the end of the song Lena had to hastily wipe a tear from her eye as Freddie looked up from the piano grinning.

“That was beautiful Fred.”

“Thank you dear. I’m quite fond of it.” He paused as if thinking, “Now I’ll be going now but I’m calling you,” he pointed at Roger, “back in to actually get stuff done with the rest of us at noon. So you,” he pointed at Lena, “will need to be gone by then.”

“That’s perfect, I have somewhere to be tonight anyways,” Lena said, nodding to Freddie’s instructions as he left the room.

“You know you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Roger said looking up at her.

“I know, but I figure that you guys have magic to perform and I have a long list of things to get done this weekend.”

“I would not say its magic, but maybe close,” he said half grinning, “Do you want to do anything while you’re here?”

“No, I just came to spend time with you and the boys. So whatever you have in mind is perfect.”

“Okay then, I’ll give you the full tour of the farm and we’ll see who we run into.”

Lena stood up and offered Roger her hand, but as she stepped back to shift her weight to pull Roger up she caught her foot in a stray crash cymbal stand and her, Roger and it fell with a loud cacophony of noise.

They landed with Roger’s nose almost touching Lena’s, his body just propped up over hers.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I might have though you did that on purpose, just to have this fine opportunity to kiss me,” Roger teased.

Lena rolled her eyes, “You wish Taylor. But I will still take the chance that has presented itself”.

Their kiss only lasted for a split second though, as Brian rushed into the studio, “I heard a giant crash and worried if you- Oh. Of course,” he said stopping when he saw Roger nearly on top of Lena on the floor.

“I swear this is significantly more innocent than it looks,” Lena said tilting her head in the direction she knew Brian to be standing, despite not being able to actually see him.

“Sure it is. But either way, let's keep the making out in the studio to a minimum please,” he said sarcastically as proceeded directly back to wherever he had been before.

Roger pecked Lena on the lips once before rising to his feet and offering her his hand, “No falling this time.”

“Right. Now I would like a tour of this place you all have spent so much time recently.”

“One tour of Ridge Farm, coming right up!” Roger said, and grabbed her hand as he pulled her though the mess of instruments and sound equipment that would produce Lena’s most favorite Queen album.

Part 5 - November 1975 - Home

It was an early morning where Lena had woken up and been unable to fall back asleep. Padding through the house that was now her and Roger’s, she put on some coffee and retrieved the muffins that she had made the previous weekend. There was nothing better than these sort of mornings, where she was in her happy place of knowing Roger was just in the next room and she could sit quietly, enjoying her alone time. She sipped her coffee and sat down at the upright piano that Roger had insisted exist within the house if for no other reason than to have it fit the aesthetic of the house. She did know how to play, and unknowest to Roger, quiet well in fact. She had noticed the sheet music that Freddie had left there several months ago when he had come by to show Roger final touches of a piece he had been finishing.

Lena had forgotten about the music until just now but was elated to find that the music Freddie had left was the sheet music for the beginnings of Bohemian Rhapsody. With the feeling of the keys almost too foreign under her fingertips, she began to play, following Freddie’s gorgeous handwriting and trying to remember what the actual song sounded like, because this version still lacked the magic that it was in its finality. Part way through the song she heard the floor boards creek behind her, and envisioned Roger to be leaning in the doorway behind her. As the song finished he came and sat down beside her on the piano bench.

“I did not know that you played.”

“I don’t. Well I don’t anymore.”

“You should, because for that being such of rough draft of BoRhap,” he said gesturing, to the sheet music, “and you having heard the actual song only half a dozen times, you sure made that your own, yet still Freddie’s melody remained there.”

“Well I would actually argue that I have heard the song way more than half a dozen times,” she said leaning her head on his shoulder, “now that the full album has been released the radio stations will not stop playing it.”

“Still, you are quite talented love,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side.

“I’ve had a lot of practice is all.”

“Whatever you say dear.”

For a moment they were still before Lena broke the silence and tilted her face up to Roger’s, “Don’t tell Fred I was playing his song? Because then he will insist I play it for him and, ah, that is just not a good time and is something that I don’t want to encounter.”

Roger smiled down at her, “You need to give yourself more credit, especially if you can play it so well on the very first time looking at it. And there’s no need to impress us all, we already know you’re a wonderful human being.”

Lena rolled her eyes, “I may be a wonderful human being as you say, but I am not a wonderful musician on the level of the four of you, and all the other crazy talented people I’ve met because of you.”

“Darling you really must stop worrying about things like that, we’re all just people who have happened to been put in the spotlight.”

“Yes, in the spotlight of the centuries. People are going to look back at your music and be like wow, those guys were the real rockstars.”

“I like that you think I’m a rockstar,” he said, leaning just a bit closer to her, grinning mischievously.

She knew where this was going but played along, “Well you are a rockstar. And a famous one.”

“Oh just enough to be dangerous. And to attract people like you.”

“I think you would do that regardless of whether you were a famous rockstar or not,” she said, remaining absolutely motionless and just barely failing to give him the ‘okay’ to kiss her.

“Hmm maybe, but I would have never met you if that were the case.”

“This is perhaps true,” Lena said grinning, still not closing the distance between them. She immensely enjoyed that even this far into their relationship he still waited for permission to touch her, to kiss her.

“But,” she started, now leaning in and slowly blinking, “You never know with these sort of things, the things that are meant to happen, just sort of seem to happen you know.”

“And I am glad they do my dearest Lena,” he said as he kissed her.

It was the slow, untidy morning kiss that Lena had become so accustomed to these past several months. She turned to face him better and wound her fingers in his now almost long hair while he pulled her closer. Pressed up against each other on the piano bench like this was the sort of place she wished she could exist is forever, for all eternity just be here on this bench sharing slow, soft, kisses that spilled away from her mouth and down her neck.

Lena exhaled sharply as she felt Roger’s teeth barely skim the exposed skin of her collarbone where her nightshirt had begun to slip at Roger’s prompting.

Roger pulled away from her at that, although she really wished that he would cease being so polite and perfect all the time. Lena smiled slowly and rolled her eyes, “You know, I will not break like a china doll.”

“Oh I know, I think you are exactly opposite of breakable, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Roger, we have this conversation literally everytime we do this, nothing about you makes me uncomfortable.”

“Right then,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again, this time with far more urgency.

“But,” she said pulling away, “You really have to be going this morning. You promised Fred you wouldn’t be late for another press interview.”

“Oh he’ll live,” Roger said, running kisses along her jaw, his hands gripping her waist.

“I’m sure he will. But you really did promise.”

“But I promised to love you forever far before I promised him I wouldn’t be late,” he mumbled into Lena’s neck.

Lena smiled and pushed him back, gripping his face in her hands. “I know. But you really must be going.”

He took hold of her hands in his own, pulling them from his face and holding them tightly, “But I also must really be spending my time where it matters, which is with you.”

“Stop being silly, and just get going. There’s coffee already going and muffins still left from the weekend.”

“You know what also could be continued from the weekend-”

“Rog no,” Lena finally stood up laughing, “You have got to go.”

By the time Roger had put himself together and downed a cup of coffee, Lena had successfully made it through several more iterations of Bohemian Rhapsody and could now play it with her own flair with ease.

“See,” Roger called from the entryway where she could see him buttoning up his coat, “You are absolutely quite a talented musician.”

Lena left the piano, carefully setting down the cover over the keys and padded to the entryway. “Go have fun. Remember you’re supposed to be doing outrageous rockstar things and having all sorts of ridiculous adventures.”

“It’s a press interview, how fun can it really be? Plus you won’t be there.”

Lena rolled her eyes as he pecked her on the lips before turning to go. Before he could get far tho she grabbed the collar of his coat and kissed him again with a little more force than really necessary;

“I think I will be home from work when you are. In any case though, just remind me of where we left off on the piano bench when you get home, won’t you?”

He smirked at her as he reached for the door, “You bet I will.”

Part 6 - 5 February 1976 - New York City

Winter mornings in New York would never be her favorite, but she could not say that she had not missed them in the past couple years she had spent in London. There was just something particular about the way New York busied itself and the way people took in the rare spot of sunshine while simultaneously wrapping themselves tighter in their coats. Lena was no exception to this trend and wished she had not let the sight of the sun deceive her into choosing an outfit that was more aesthetic focused than functionality focused.

With a pleasant feeling of being back at home in her stomach Lena glanced up at the marquee sign that simply read “Queen” and then in smaller lettering “8pm Sold Out” before walking up to the glass doors of the Beacon Theatre in hopes that there was someone in the gorgeous lobby beyond. Perhaps this was not the best way to gain access to the locked theatre, but she was really hoping to not have to go on a hunt for the actual band entrance, besides, it was so much more fun to walk in the front doors like everyone else.

Despite living in New York for some time previously to joining Queen in London, Lena had never actually been inside the Beacon Theatre and had sort of hoped to be able to enter through the front doors and experience it like the rest of the public because she had heard that one must experience it in full in order to get the best effect. With no one in sight in the lobby she had given up knocking on the glass in hopes that some crew member would recognize her from afar due to her red leather jacket. After a solid half an hour of standing there, a time in which she could have most defiantly have found another entrance, a roadie finally passed close enough to the front doors to recognize her and let her in.

“Lena dude, how long have you been standing out here?” the fluffy haired roadie asked.

“Only a half an hour. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said and continued his way.

Thankful to finally be out of the February cold, Lena paused once inside to unzip her jacket and run her fingers through her hair. Part of the image she was portraying today as the rock n’ roll girlfriend depended heavily on the white, fading Led Zeppelin t-shirt she had tucked into her jeans and there was no reason to conceal it beneath her red jacket. In her momentary pause Lena took in the extravagance of the lobby, imagining how it would be tonight, packed with people eager to enter the auditorium and see the one and only, Queen.

The lobby itself rose to a high vaulted ceiling where an immaculate chandelier hung, throwing warm light all over the room. Walking into the auditorium Lena was immediately thankful that she had been able to come through the main entrance and see the theatre from this vantage point. The high ceilings mirrored that of the lobby, but it was far more beautiful than the lobby. The walls emitted an almost glowing gold, etched in with various spurts of red decorations. The seats were the same vibrant red as the curtains on the stage, perfectly emulating the roaring twenties feel within which it had been built. It was all but silent and completely still in the auditorium and she guessed that the band had concluded their soundcheck early, or more likely, not even started. The entirety of the band’s equipment was on the stage, but there was not a soul in sight and Lena wondered where on earth they had gotten to and how long it would be before they remembered that they were supposed to be meeting her here at nine.

Lena walked around the theatre while she waited and gazed up at the paintings on the walls, studying them, wishing she could see them closer. She studied them with such concentration that she did not even notice Brian enter onto the stage until he began playing his guitar, the chords that so distinctly defined Bohemian Rhapsody echoing beautifully in the otherwise empty auditorium. She whipped around to face the stage at the sound and Brian only smiled in greeting and kept playing.

She walked up to the far side of the stage and rested her elbows on it and watched Brian play, his big hair drooping down around his face as he focused on his guitar. She considered for the hundredth time that week how incredibly blessed she was to be able to tour with this band and watch them as they made history.

“Hey! No ogling other rock stars Lena!” Roger’s voice said from a stage wing before he emerged.

“See but you don’t play guitar, and there’s just something about guitarists…” Lena teased as Roger emerged from the wings.

“Does that include bassists?” John said joining in as he emerged from the same wing and spun around as if showing off his bass that was slung over him.

“You betcha Deaky,” Lena said flashing him a smile.

Roger frowned in a way that Lena found hysterical and she snorted with laughter in response.

“And what about lead singers darling?” Freddie asked, prancing onto the stage.

“Defiantly goes for lead singers,” Lena said, shooting Roger a smirk.

“Well then you’ll just have to get a ‘thing’ for drummers too,” Roger huffed as he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips before turning to fetch his coat.

Lena grabbed his collar before he could turn away fully and kissed him a little deeper, “I think,” she said pausing the kiss, “that you could say I already have ‘a thing’ for a certain drummer.”

“You too are getting ridiculous in your weird flirting you know,” Deaky said pretending to look at his nails in boredom.

“Oh I know, it’s all just to annoy the rest of you,” Roger said, detaching himself from Lena. “But now, if we want Lena to give us a tour of the city we really gotta get going.”

“Don’t you need to like, soundcheck?” Lena asked.

“That’s for later darling. Now come on, the gold aura of this place is giving me a headache,” Freddie said gesturing.

“Who would have thought that gold and glam could ever give Fred a headache?” Brain said rolling his eyes.

“Come on guys, grab your coats we have so much to do and see,” Lena said.

They followed her out of the otherwise empty auditorium, their laughter and jokes echoing off the walls. Once on the street they settled into being only mildly obnoxious because they knew that at this point in their careers, anyone, anywhere could, and would recognize them. Lena hoped that this day would consist of little interactions with fans but guessed that it could not be completely avoided.

Mostly Lena was just wanting to show them her city, another piece of who she was aside from just following them around the world for the past couple years. She had decided to show them only a couple of her favorite sites in Manhattan, for her favorite places were in New York were far more secluded and were away from direct integration with busy streets. But there were still many places to venture to that she knew the boys would enjoy by sheer fact that she was the one giving the tour.

After a few blocks Roger quit his fooling around with the others and joined her in the lead, taking her hand and walking beside her.

“Thank you for putting up with us my dear.”

Lena started to respond but Freddie interrupted her, “If she didn’t put up with us, she couldn’t have you.”

“Yes, thank you Fred,” Lena said rolling her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that week alone, “But I do love you all dearly and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Lena and Roger talked as they wound through the city streets toward Central Park and upon arrival through the park’s long pathways. They walked a little ahead of the other three hand in hand as Lena explained her favorite things about the city and pointed out little pieces and spouted random facts. Even the February cold was not bothersome to her as they walked; she was back in her own environment but now with her favorite collection of people at her side.

They stopped occasionally for Lena to tell them a story or to buy steaming cups of hot chocolate from an only mildly sketchy looking stand, but they were soon done with their tour of the park.

“And now for the New York taxi experience all by your lonesomes. Not all that interesting but still kinda an adventure,” Lena said, as she began her attempts to hail a taxi.

In the process of getting two taxis they were stopped by a couple fans who had recognized the band. But with a taxi waiting Lena was able to avoid being directly interrogated along with the rest of them.

“You know I was really thinking that we were blending in quite well,” Roger said once they were in their own cab, the other three taking another.

“You four have a tendency to not blend in anywhere.”

Roger folded and unfolded his sunglasses in his lap, “I wish we could sometimes. It would be so much easier to go do stuff.”

“Yeah,” Lena agreed and paused to reflect on how desperately she wished it could be that way, “but it would also be so much less of an adventure that way.”

“True,” Roger said still playing with his sunglasses.

“What’s wrong Rog?”

“Nothing, I just want this to be a fun day for you without the interruption of fans.”

“Rog it’s fine really. I have been getting way better at dealing with it.”

“I know,” he said holding her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on it, “it’s just that even still, after all this time you have evaded being truly and terribly ambushed by paparazzi and having to deal with all the fame and all the bad things that come with it. And that’s good yes, but I just don’t want you to be surprised by it when it happens.”

“I won’t be,” Lena said, wishing that she could ignore the fact that she did not know what would happen in a situation in being ambushed by fans and how already in the situations she had experienced, it had been a struggle to quell her fear. She wished she had a better hold on herself and could control those moments of panic, of being surrounded, the noise and the people all throwing her into a full on anxiety attack.

In the momentary silence they had arrived at their destination, right outside the Flatiron Building.

“Come on,” Lena said, shaking of her thoughts and pulling him out of the cab after beating him to paying the driver, “I want to show you my favorite looking building in the city.”

Roger shoved his sunglasses back on and followed her out into the street.

“I told them to meet us right in front of it, so they should be here any minute,” Lena said, looking around for the other three.

The three of them spilling obnoxiously out of a cab about a block away caught her attention, and she waved to direct them over. Once all together Lena began giving a full rundown explanation of the history of the Flatiron Building, that only Brian seemed to be listening to with genuine interest.

“But anyway,” Lena said gesturing up to the tall, slender building, “it’s one of my favorite buildings to see. Because it’s so unusual and fun.”

“We are also unusual and fun, so all you have to do is bring us everywhere,” Freddie said.

“I already bring you everywhere. Now come on there should be a cute little shop around here where we can grab some lunch.”

They turned to follow her as she led the way in the direction of the little café she vaguely remembered as being close by.

Only a few steps down the street, Roger swore under his breath and quickened his pace.

“There’s a giant group of people looking suspiciously like paparazzi behind us. Don’t look,” Roger whispered.

They all looked anyway, and sure enough, there was a group of people trailing behind them all carrying cameras non-discreetly pointing at them, and by their sheer nature attracting attention and making the group following the band ever larger.

“Dammit. And we were having such a pleasant time by ourselves,” Lena said.

“You know how you were saying you loved fun and unusual things?” Freddie said, “Well your day just got better.”

Everyone frowned at him questioningly, with John raising an eyebrow.

“Everybody run!” Freddie half yelled, and he took off down the street.

Lena looked at Roger, and then at Brian and John.

“Well I guess we get to run from them then,” Brian laughed, and spirited away.

The three left hesitated a second longer before John whispered, “Meet you two back at the theatre for soundcheck. Don’t be late Rog,” and then sprinted down the street after the other two.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Roger said, “That we are going to take this opportunity and go adventure the city on our own without those three hooligans.”

“Okay?” Lena said shaking her head, “But first we have to get rid of that crew that is now speedily coming at us.”

Roger looked back to see the group of paparazzi and now quite large collection of fans running toward them in response to the other three taking off down the street.

“Let’s go!” Lena shouted as she pulled Roger down the street after her, taking the first turn she could off the main street.

Unfortunately, as she guessed they would, the crowd behind them followed down the street and it was only after a large collection of many turns that it appeared they had evaded them.

Roger pulled her into a small alley and just has often happens in cliché movies, the remainder of the group that had been following them passed by without noticing that Roger and Lena were there.

Lena was pressed up against Roger’s chest and she could feel him breathing hard after their sprinting several blocks.

“I think,” Lena said holding in a giggle, “that the coast is clear.”

“We could leave now,” Roger said without removing his hands from her waist.

Lena could feel his breathing slowing, but his heart remained at a fluttering pace. She could feel hers doing the same and internally rolled her eyes that the both of them still made the other nervous after all this time.

“We could,” Lena said lifting her face up to his, lips just barely touching his without actually kissing him.

“Or not…” he whispered, still without kissing her, but with his lips speaking beneath hers.

“Hmm,” Lena hummed into his lips, reaching up and holding his face with both hands.

Roger closed the microscopic distance that had remained between them, kissing her softly. Despite the fact that the alley they were currently inhabiting smelled atrocious and Lena could feel a part of her brain vaguely wondering about the safety of her red jacket against this wall, she found herself yet again in one of those moments in which she wished she could make time stand still and live the moment forever.

One of Roger’s hands remained on her back, his fingers creeping under her t-shirt, pulling her closer. His other hand gripped her face, cradling it, urging her closer. The longer they stood there the more heated the kiss became, Lena’s hands pulling at Roger’s hair, pulling him closer as they fell into rhythm with each other.

After several, long eternities that Lena did not want to end, she detached her lips from his, but with noses still touching and smiled widely.

“You know I really think we should get a move on. I really don’t want to see this makeout session plastered on the front of any magazines.”

Roger licked his swollen lips and grinned at her, “It wouldn’t be that bad would it?”

“Yes it would be. I would never hear the end of it from Freddie. Or Brian. Or Deaky for that matter. He would just nonchalantly happen to be reading that particular magazine every single time I saw him.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” he said, kissing her once more and almost indistinctly mumbling into her lips, “but wouldn’t it be almost worth it?”

“It almost might be,” Lena said while simultaneously pushing down a wave of anxiety at even the thought of seeing herself on a magazine cover. She detached herself from him a little more efficiently this time, leaning back against the wall behind her.

“Let’s go grab lunch at my favorite little cafe in this part of the city. Then we can head back to the Beacon and make sure you’re on time for soundcheck.”

“There’s plenty of time love. Maybe perhaps so much time that we could find an empty dressing room…”

“Really Rog,” she exclaimed and smacked him on the shoulder, as she turned and dragged them out of the alleyway.

But after a delicious lunch, a delightful cup of coffee and walking back through the cold New York streets to the Beacon, Lena found herself stumbling after Roger into an empty dressing room, desperately clinging to his lanky frame. She closed the door behind them and fumbled for the lock as Roger pushed her up against the wall, his lips traveling down her neck and then back again.

“Rog,” she said between kisses, “Should we really be doing this… now? Here?”

He pulled away and gave her his signature mischievous grin, “Of course darling, you really must learn to live a little.”

“But,” she spluttered, barely able to form a cohesive sentence as Roger’s hands were all over her, pulling at her clothes as his lips reconnected with her skin, “What about the others? Shouldn’t you be soundchecking approximately now?”

“Yes love, but they can wait. Besides,” he said stopping once more and looking at her, “How will you ever properly be a part of the rock and roll scene if you don’t do it in a dressing room, half drunk and prolonging said band member from being wherever they’re supposed to be?”

“Maybe the issue is that I’m not half drunk yet,” Lena grinned.

“Well that can certainly be resolved,” Roger said and seemed to magically produce a bottle of something from the table beside them and managed to take of the top off without ever removing his body from hers.

“You had this planned from the beginning didn’t you?” Lena said taking a swig of the bottle he handed her. She made a face at the taste but proceeded to take another drink before handing the bottle back to him.

He downed a couple mouthfuls before putting the bottle down and replacing his hand onto her back, “Lena love, you seem to still have such an innocent perception of me. I’m Roger Taylor. There’s a reputation to that name.”

She rolled her eyes, “You are so idiotically full of yourself,” she said as she decided she’d had enough of his ridiculous small talk and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and attaching herself to him. This time when she kissed him a trace of whatever foul liquid they had both consumed lingered in his mouth, but in a much more pleasant manor than actually drinking it.

They were fully entangled in each other on the couch and both dutifully ignoring the yells of the band looking for Roger. The door handle rattled, and Brian’s voice sounded.

“Of course,” there was a pause, “I swear to God Taylor. I know you’re in there. Because we can’t find Lena anywhere either. We all saw you guys come back earlier.”

They both remained frozen and silent, with Lena looking at Roger with wide eyes.

“I told you this would happen,” Lena whispered.

“Why are you yelling at that door Brian?” Freddie’s voice chirped.

Lena’s frown deepened.

“Because. Some blonde couple we know happen to be in there and not ready to sound check like they were supposed to be.”

“Oh, is little Miss Lierens fucking Mr. Taylor in a dressing room?”

“Freddie!” Lena couldn’t help but exclaiming, her voice jumping an octave.

“Ah yes, see, there she is,” he said cheerily.

“Just be on stage in five Roger,” Brian said exasperated, his voice fading down the hall along with Freddie’s fit of giggles.

“I guess we should be going then,” Roger said grinning like an idiot and barely containing giggles himself.

“God why does this keep happening, it’s so embarrassing,” Lena said, maneuvering herself from his grasp.

Lena shrugged on her red jacket and inspected her reflection.

How wonderful, she thought, I even look like I’ve been fucking in a dressing room.

Roger came up beside her looking equally discheeled to observe their reflections, She tried to readjust her hair in such a way that it didn’t looks so awful.

“I like your outfit by the way. I didn’t even know you listened to Led Zeppelin.”

“I do. Sometimes. Okay, I know like five songs. But I really do like them. And this t-shirt.”

“Whatever you say darling.”

“Fix your hair please,” she said as she began to apply a fresh coat of lipstick, “and please wipe my lipstick off your face.”

Roger did so without any arguments or snide comments and the two proceeded to the stage.

“You’ve got a little something there on your neck Rog,” Deaky said innocently as he walked passed to his place on the stage.

“Shut it Deacon.”

“Yeah, it looks like maybe, lipstick?” Freddie teased.

“You really do have lipstick on your neck babe,” Lena called across the stage even as her face burned brilliantly.

He sent her a half hearted glare accompanied by a devilish grin and proceeded into their soundcheck. It was always a weird sensation to Lena to hear them play to an empty theatre, vacant of an audience. Yet they still maintained that energy that made them so powerful, so tranciendental to watch.

Not long later the stage was empty again and the auditorium began to fill with people. An oppressive buzz of people talking and laughing dominated the atmosphere even backstage as the five of them sat together waiting for the band to go on. Lena was on Roger’s lap, Deaky was drinking something that looked infinitely better than all the choices of alcohol Lena had been offered in the past several hours, Brian was absently strumming his guitar, and Freddie was drinking one of the same awful drinks Lena had consumed previously.

Leaning into Roger’s chest, Lena absently studied her chipping black nails, making a mental note to repaint them when she got back to the hotel. It had been a long lovely day and the night had not even really begun yet. For once Lena felt fully contented to be engaging in the partying and everything she normally tried to keep out of that the band did. Freddie passed her and Roger a bottle of what he was drinking.

“I’d rather have whatever Deaky’s drinking. This is disgusting,” Lena said making another face after trying it again just to make sure and passing the bottle Roger.

“Whatever darling. It’s time for us to go on anyway.”

Lena frowned at her failing to snag a drink that she would actually enjoy, but removed herself from Roger’s lap, as the band filed out of the room. Deaky passed her his drink on his way out, winking at her.

With her one arm wrapped around Roger and one hand holding her newfound drink she walked to the edge of the stage, just out of sight of anyone in the audience, as per usual.

“Enjoy the show love,” Roger said as he detached himself from her and gave her a quick peck on the lips before prancing on stage.

“I always do,” she whispered after him.

And she did. Tonight was like every other with its energy. As soon as the band entered the stage the house lights went off, plunging the audience into darkness, temporarily destroying any evidence of the fact that the auditorium beyond was one of the most beautiful Lena had seen. The stage lights flew to illuminate the four figures and the performance took off in a whirlwind of theatrics and drama. Lena just stood grinning, swaying her way through each song, drink in hand, her heart happy.

Part 7 - 8 February 1976 - New York City Continued

Tonight was to be their last night in the Beacon Theatre and their last night in New York. From there it was on to see the rest of the United States and then onto international shows.

These couple days in the city Lena had previously called home had consisted of her favorite moments on tour so far and she almost wished that they could stay a little longer. The shows themselves had been amazing and the memories had been even better. This last day here though, she was taking a few hours to visit several of her old haunts a little further away from the main bustle of central Manhatton. There were so many places to visit that it was not feasible to take Roger with her to each and every one, nor did she particularly want any of her acquaintances here catching wind of the fact that she was dating THE Roger Taylor and annoyingly overreacting.

But with Roger’s instance that she spend time with him alone and go out on a real date together for the first time in forever, Lena was walking through the streets of Lower Manhattan trying to figure out where the cafe she had told Roger to meet her at was. It was a quite well known cafe and was large enough to offer privacy when sharing conversation, but small enough to feel pleasantly at home. She supposed that she could just ask someone where it was, but pride and a desire to prove to herself that she still belonged to this city as much as she ever had, left her wandering for just a little longer than necessary

Finally in the distance Lena saw the giant ice cream cones protruding off the side of a building and the large vertical sign, that even from afar could be vertically read as ‘FERRARA’. With a little sigh of relief and a glance at her watch that told her she would hardly even be late she hurried toward the sign.

Only a few steps down the block though, a she caught something out of the corner of her eye that stopped her cold. She stepped toward the magazine stand and reached with trembling fingers toward the silly tabloid.

On the cover was a snapshot from earlier that week when they had run down the street, both her and Roger’s blonde hair flying out behind them. The photograph fortunately failed to show her face, but nevertheless the headline read “Roger Taylor’s Mystery Girl: What We Know”.

Lena could barely look at the photo, her red jacket that she prized so much glaring blatantly back at her. After a moment where nothing but an intense desire to melt into the pavement over took her, she flipped open the magazine to the indicated page to find an an unfortunately accurate description of her and Roger’s relationship so far. She stood there in stunned silence reading it, horrified that so much of what she thought had been private about her life was in the view of the world.

“Ya look like yav see a ghost dearie,” the older man running the stand said as he came up to her.

Lena slapped the magazine closed and hastily placed it back in its place.

“Nope, just looking,” she said, giving the man what she hoped was a pleasant smile. She ducked her head and walked away stiffy to the exterior of Ferrara’s and hoped Roger was already inside and would not discover her in her panic. She leaned up against the bricked wall and wrung her hands together, the image of her red jacket on the cover of that magazine remaining burned in her vision, glaring like a warning beacon. She held her breath and counted to ten in attempts to steady her breathing.

Everything is fine, everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. It’s totally fine that the last two years of your life are printed in that magazine, all summed up as being ‘Roger’s girl.’ You knew this was going to happen eventually. There’s nothing to worry about. No one even knows your name. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

Despite the mantra repeating itself deftly in her head, her hands would not stop shaking and her breathing had begun to come in short gasps. She felt tears stinging her eyes and was suddenly angry. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Jesus, get it together. What is your problem? Are you going soft? Why are you freaking out over this? This means absolutely nothing. It changes nothing. The world is exactly the same. Just this little detail that the world seems to know who you are. Or at least wants to. It’s totally fine. I’m fine with that. Totally. It’s fine, I’m okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m okay.

“Lena,” Roger’s voice suddenly interrupted through her thoughts, “Are you okay?”

Her eyes flew open to see Roger, looking at her with deep concern, the edges of his lips turned down, his eyes squinted. Lena quickly wiped at her watery eyes, hoping to keep him from noticing her waterworks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Everything is fine,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

“You’re kinda green, very pale, your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re shaking,” he said softly, grabbing at her hands.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Come on let's go inside and sit down.”

He opened the door to the cafe for her and a wave of warm, fresh pastries cascaded over them. He ushered her to a table in the back, and left her momentarily to order coffee. She watched him go, his blonde hair and wearing of sunglasses indoors attracting attention from everyone in the place. The girl at the counter seemed to recognize him and told him so, to which he responded with a half embarrassed grin. She took his order with awkward laughter that echoed around the cafe and served to bring more attention to the fact that a famous rockstar was present.

Lena felt her fingers going cold and begin to shake even more. Tears pricked at her eyes again and her mouth felt dry. She dug through her coat and pulled out her big sunglasses that were suddenly not big enough. When Roger sat back down, with pastries in hand he gave her a concerned, questioning look.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

“Because,” Lena said fighting to keep her voice level, “I am doing my best to not be recognized.”

He raised an eyebrow and cast a quick glance around the cafe and saw the more than a few people now whispering behind their hands.

“See?”

“Right. But it’s fine. Now, tell me love, what’s wrong?”

Lena sighed.

Of course he’s okay with all the people staring, whispering and generally making us the center of attention. That’s literally his job.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just not used to people staring at me and knowing who I am. And wanting to know personal details, and wanting to take photos of me and I don’t know how to live up to their expectations and-”

“You saw yourself on a magazine cover didn’t you?” Roger said leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a slight grin ghosting across his face.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re laughing.”

“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling. It’s just that seeing yourself on a magazine cover is supposed to be exciting. Doesn’t everyone dream of seeing themselves on one?”

“No. At least I don’t. Or rather I don’t want everyone to know all the personal details of my life. Literally I do not even understand how they could possibly know exactly when we met. Like that was literally two years ago.”

“Ah there was a nice article too. And what did it say? Was it full of wonderful rumors and juicy gossip and some interviews with groupies giving their opinions on you? The ‘girl who’s dating Roger Taylor?”

“No! Do they do that? That’s disgusting.”

“It’s America love. Really everywhere. But I think the chase down the streets hand in hand earlier this week really made it exciting.”

“And THAT is what was on the cover! I can never wear that red jacket again.”

“Of course you can. It can be your signature look. And that can be the subject of conversation, instead of other details.”

“You’re taking this so lightly,” Lena deadpanned.

“Because. It’s gotta be treated that way. If you let it get to you, it will get to you and take a hold of you. And you’ll become too invested in it. You just have to not care.”

“How do I not care, and be worried about living up to these random expectations when even in this singular restaurant, everyone in here is staring at us and whispering and I would not be surprised if in half an hour some collection of paparazzi showed up?”

“Do you remember when I first met you?”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Do you?” he said ignoring the question.

“Of course Rog.”

“Do you remember when we first danced?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

“I remember…. I remember being so excited that I fit in so well with you all. I felt at home for the first time in a really long time.”

“And you had this look in your eyes that was a little hesitant because of all the things you had heard. But by the time the night was almost over you looked like you had almost forgotten that you were with a group of up and coming rock stars, who even then attracted a lot of attention.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that even from the very beginning, even from that first night of meeting you, people wanted to know who you were.”

Lena frowned trying to decipher what this meant.

“That night, unknown to you, and to all of us except for Freddie, someone shot a whole collection of photos. Of us dancing primarily. And there was a little collection of notes on a little notepad along with the roll of film.”

“What!”

“Yeah. And apparently Freddie saw the person and paid them off for the photos and notes and then the person never said anything about it I guess. Freddie might even still have the film.”

Lena sighed. Of course that had been the case. Her life had been given a great expectation from the very moment she met Queen and she did not know how to live up to that. Even then when she was distinctly under their employment she wouldn’t have known how to deal with the rumors and expectations and gossip that she was shagging one of the band members. And even now, when so many of those rumors about her and Roger were true, and there was no reason to be ashamed, there was another expectation of what she must be for her to fulfil that rock and roll girlfriend position.

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” Lena sighed as the waitress brought them their coffee and flashed Roger a smile. Lena frowned and glared at her, but it had less effect than intended because of her sunglasses. Her earlier anxiety has transformed itself into frustration at the world.

“Look at it this way,” he said leaning up on the table again, “people have always wanted to know who you are. And they don’t really even care what you’re like. They just want to know for the sheer sake of knowing. And that has been going along this whole time. And so nothing should change now.”

“But they have all these expectations of who the infamous Roger Taylor’s girlfriend should be…”

“Sure they do. And they can have them if they want. But that doesn’t mean you have to fulfil that.”

“I know but….” she took a sip of her coffee. It was as good as she remembered.

“Just forget they even exist love. They don’t matter anyway.”

“I know I just-”

He leaned in across the table, prompting her to do the same and grasped her hands, holding them firmly in his.

“Everything will be fine. I promise,” he said as he closed the distance across the table and pecked her on the lips.

“If you say so.”

“Trust me. If the past couple years have taught me anything about fame, it’s to not let it go to your head.”

Part 8 April 1976 - Back Home

A soft, gentle breeze blew into the room from the open balcony doors, refurnishing Roger and Lena’s bedroom of its unlived-in smell and replacing it with fresh night air. Lena watched Roger’s sleeping form, thankful to finally be back home in their own privacy, in London, in a place where gigs were local and the community of people around them more or less stayed the same. She let her breathing fall into the same rhythm of Roger’s as he slept, trying to calm her nerves enough to join him in sleep.

The last couple months of touring around the world had been a delightful and harrowing adventure but this return to normalcy was much needed. In the year they had lived in the little house nothing was ever perfectly normal, there was never ‘normal’ with Queen, but life had consisted of a predictable chain of outrageous events and occasions. Finally Lena could go back to being woken up by phone calls from band members at all hours of the night with song ideas or with random arrivals of those same lovely people and setting up half the band’s equipment in her living room for a quick demo of that same song. And these nights where the street below was all but silent and the world was careful not to disturb her as she drifted off to sleep next to this love of her life.

The next morning Lena woke alone in bed, but to the smell of breakfast and coffee. Sweet, delicious coffee. Homemade coffee. In her favorite mug. And Roger’s morning voice. And a little good morning kiss on her forehead.

But that would mean getting out of bed and the warmth that the blankets brought her. But coffee. And Roger.

Fortunately for her, only moments later the latter arrived in the doorway of their room, the old floorboards creaking to announce his presence.

“Lena love? Breakfast is ready. And coffee.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, barely pulling back the covers to reveal her face and meet Roger’s eyes.

Roger crossed the room and crawled onto the bed, hovering over her, his nose almost touching hers.

“You have to get up love. We have things to do today.”

“Do we really though?” Lena mumbled.

“Yes love we really do.”

Lena shifted herself up on the pillows to touch her lips to Roger’s, her mouth moving against his in slow, perfect rhythm. The weight of his body fell against her own as she reached up to knot her fingers in his hair. With slow, languid movements he held her face in his hands, stopping for a moment to look at her.

“You know I love you right?”

“Not as much as I love you,” she whispered back.

After a few more moments of slow kisses that began to cascade away from her mouth and down her neck Roger pulled away reluctantly.

“We really do have places to be going today. We told Fred we’d host his post-tour dinner party. So we have to go shopping. Because the only food we have in the house is that which is waiting for you downstairs.”

“And coffee?” Lena grinned.

“And coffee. Now come on.”

Lena allowed him to pull her out of bed, but not before another long kiss ensued, halting their progression toward breakfast even longer.

Breakfast was exactly reminiscent of the last time they had eaten together in their own kitchen, those may months ago before this tour. There were lazy kisses on hands and chatting of everything and nothing all at once. There was the drawing out of second cups of coffee in order to stay seated pleasantly doing nothing for just a few minutes longer.

But duty called and they were soon on their way out the door for a shopping date in preparation for Freddie’s post-tour party. Lena had previously made him swear that it would just be them, the band and spouses, no exceptions. Aside, of course, from John’s son that they had seen so little of recently, Lena thought smiling.

Shopping of any sort with Roger was always an adventure whether it be perusing for the latest fashions or their almost weekly shopping dates. This time was no exception. Lena had a vision in mind as to what she wanted their first home cooked meal back would be, but Roger’s distraction levels prohibited them from completing their shopping in any timely manner. This Lena had no quarrel with this, in fact she quite enjoyed his outrageousness and somewhat childish behavior.

But what she did not enjoy was the attention of everyone else. Several times throughout their outing, in various different locations they were stopped by fans. And it was not in the way that it used to be where when stopped, only Roger or the others would receive attention, but now she too had fallen into the spotlight. The entirety of the outing consisted of Lena swallowing her panic and smiling widely at the people who greeted them. All of the people they met were really quite lovely she thought, it was just her inability to stop her hands from shaking and her chest from constricting.

Of course Roger was his delightfully exuberant self who was practically bouncing on his toes as they walked home. Lena knew that it was the effect of the tour that they had just concluded that they encountered so many people whom wanted to meet them, and she was happy for Roger that the he could experience this success, but as hard as she tried she still could not silence the little whispers in the back of her mind that told her that she wasn’t fulfilling expectations, that she should not be sharing this spotlight at all, that people disliked her. The more people they met the more she found that the fans were just as loving and supportive toward her as they were of Roger, but this still did not quell her hands from shaking.

And of course adding to this was the occasion of seeing her face on a magazine cover. She had to admit that it was a good photo of herself, despite the big round sunglasses she had been sporting that day. However, just seeing her photo so blatantly plastered on the cover, as if she was a commodity to be sold gave her an uncomfortable set of shivers. Even at this point she wondered why the world was so blatantly obsessed with her, but could come to no more than the usual conclusion of the fact that it was Roger whom she was dating, the notorious, up until two years ago ago at least, as one magazine had put it, ‘playboy’.

By the time they arrived back home Lena was thoroughly exhausted compared to Roger’s jazzed and excited mood. She supposed that she was going to have to get used to that, otherwise any outing they ever took together was going to be miserable. Roger offered to start the cooking so she could relax for a while before helping him with the one dish that he had never made before. Lena was again eternally thankful that Roger was actually quite a good cook.

Lena headed upstairs to change into clothes that Freddie would approve of as being ‘dinner party friendly’. She sat in front of her mirror, adjusting her makeup and repainting one of her fingernails that had chipped. The wet, red polish glistened like blood on her fingernail as she screwed the cap back on.

While waiting for her finger to dry somewhat, she studied herself in the mirror. There were her eyes and her nose and her lips and her blonde hair that now fell past the bottom of her ribs. Looking just as they always did. The way her eyes looked did not change and she kept her face steady in the mirror and allowed any anxiety and stress to be completely imperceptible.

Then she screwed up her face and pretended that her eyes looked sad and let her shoulders drop and let her hands shake. But the mirror still did little to fully reflect the anxiety she felt.

So she let her face fall slack and everything back to its resting position, and just stared, unthinking at herself while her brain swirled tremendously.

Finally she rummaged through a bedside drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took them with her out onto the balcony. She had forbade Roger from smoking inside, so she figured that she should at least somewhat follow her own rule.

The wind blew just barely, hinting that there might be rain later that day. Otherwise, everything was moving at its normal frequency, a quiet din of noise. She clicked her lighter several times before it sparked and she was able to light the cigarette. Her first inhale of smoke left her coughing tremendously. She heard Roger chuckle behind her.

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t anymore,” Lena said, this time expertly taking a drag of the cigarette as Roger joined her on the balcony.

Roger studied her face without saying anything else. She offered him a smoke, which he accepted before returning it to her.

“Are you okay Lena?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel like you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You don’t have to be okay with everything the world throws at you.”

Lena looked at him and she could see his eyes filled with concern. She ducked her head and looked away into the distance, exhaling from the cigarette dramatically.

“It’s just my brain being stupid and not handling the public attention well.”

“It’s not stupid. You never signed up for that-”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks taking on a red flare.

“But I did Rog! I did! The moment I accepted the job to manage that tour!”

“You didn’t know that-”

“But I did!” her voice broke, “I did! How else would I have ever known that you were supposed to be a guy who slept around? Or who Veronica was? Or when Kashmira was born? Or the names of Brian’s parents? All before I even met you!”

“Lena-”

“No Rog,” she said as she turned her head away to hide tears, “it’s stupid, and-”

“It’s not stupid Lena. Not at all.”

“But it is Rog. It is.”

“No Lena it’s not. What’s stupid is that the world thinks that it should know all of that information. It’s stupid that the fans want to know every single little detail of our lives. It’s stupid that we can’t just enjoy spending time together out of this house without interruptions. Not you.”

“But Rog, that still doesn’t change anything. I’m still having these stupid issues and have a stupid reaction every single time we go out.”

“It will just take some time love.”

“It’s been two years!” Lena gasped, “Two years and I still-”.

“It’s okay. Lena? Look at me.”

She looked at him with bloodshot eyes as she attempted to avoid bawling in front of him.

“You don’t ever have to be okay with all the attention. You are no under no obligation to please anyone, nor do anything they expect you to.”

Lena looked at him, her heart breaking a little. He was looking at her so earnestly, desperately wanting her to believe him. But he could tell her those things over and over again and she could fully believe that those things were true, but she could not stop that little set of whisperings in her head that said otherwise. No matter how much she wanted to believe that it was fine and it genuinely didn’t matter what other people thought, or what other people knew, there was an endless cycle whirring through her brain telling her to that she was not enough and that she must live up to every expectations. And that made her feel even less worthy, because she was failing at doing the one thing that the only person that mattered believed her to be; strong.

Be strong. Be strong. I can be strong right? Just get it together. You’ve had your cry for today. Now moving on.

She wiped her eyes and sat up straight. Taking a last drag on her cigarette, she went back inside and smashed it into the ashtray a little too aggressively.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a little smile towards the balcony.

Roger stepped back in, closing the little french doors behind him. Before she could dash out of the room in a feigned need to go check on the food, he stopped her, his fingers resting lightly on her wrists, just barely preventing her from rushing away.

“Lena, I want you to know that whatever happens, whatever crazy collection of paparazzi and fans we encounter, I will always be here. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” she said her eyes looking into his, knowing he was telling the truth.

“And if we are ever somewhere and you need to just get out, let me know and we will go. Right away. No questions asked.”

She slowly smiled at him, still holding down a shame that that would happen. “Hell” she thought, “that has already happened too many times to count.”

“No matter what Lena. I promise.”

She did not say anything but wrapped her arms around his waist. He followed suit by wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her in a strong hug. He rested chin on her head while she buried his face in his chest. Even with ghastly looming in the recesses of her brain, still causing her to want to break down and cry, she had to admit that this was without a doubt her happy place.

Suddenly the doorbell rang followed by a loud hollering.

“We’ve arrived darlings! The party can begin!” Freddie’s voice called, echoing through the house.

Part 9 - 7 May 1976 - Birthday

Lena observed herself in the mirror.

The dress she had chosen for tonight was simple, her favorite little black dress that fit perfectly and left nothing to imagination. Her hair was pulled up and piled on her head, leaving the big diamond earrings glistening at her ears to be the center of attention. And finally her deep red lipstick which completed the look.

She bent to pull on her heels, balancing precariously on one while securing the other.

“Twenty-five looks good on you,” Roger said as he walked into the bedroom.

Lena smiled at him in the mirror, “Thank you. Shouldn't you be dressed by now?”

“Yes. But I wanted to give you something first.”

“Rog-”

“Just wait. Turnaround towards the mirror and close your eyes.”

“If you say so…”

In darkness she heard him come up behind her and the sound of him fumbling in his pocket. A line of cold metal fell on her neck, the pendant of whatever it was resting several inches below the lines of her collar bones. Roger’s fingers brushed at the little hairs hanging down over the back of her neck causing her to shiver as he fixed the clasp of the necklace.

“Okay, open.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. At first she did not realize what the little gold pendant was. But then, looking down at it and touching it with her fingertips and feeling the almost imperceptible ridges, she realized what it was. It was a piece of a broken cymbal, the once jagged edges filled down as not to stab her.

“Rog it’s beautiful,” she said, smiling at him widely in the mirror.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to face him, smiling warmly up at him.

“It’s perfect,” she said wrapping her arms around him.

“I wasn’t quite sure what to get you and I found that piece in my pocket after a show one night and I kept it-”

“Rog it’s absolutely perfect,” she said, reaching up to kiss him, “But now I need some coffee before we go to this mystery party, and you need to get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said twirling her out of his grasp and sending her spinning toward the door. She grabbed her red jacket on the way out and proceeded down the stairs to the kitchen.

As the coffee brewed she thought about this impending party. It had of course been Freddie’s idea and he had insisted upon it despite her protests. However, he had promised that the party would only consist of people she knew by name. But he had said that with an absolute mischievous glitter in his eye, so she still was not quite sure what to expect. She poured a little whiskey into her coffee and thumbed through a magazine, hoping not to see her name or face.

“Havin’ a little somethin in your coffee there?” Roger asked.

“Just to start the night off right-” she began but stopped as she turned to see Roger, “You cannot be serious.”

To Lena’s horror Roger was wearing his favorite pink converse, which themselves were not all that bad. Nor were the black leather pants or white button down. Frankly, in that alone he would look quite good, she mused. But it was the bright pink blazer that made Lena’s mouth drop.

“What? This is the perfect outfit for a fancy occasion.”

“Not that coat. Absolutely not that coat.”

“Oh yes. You cannot stop me. I have been planning to debut this coat for a long time and I just needed a good reason. And your birthday is the perfect occasion.”

“Could my birthday present be that you don’t wear that coat?”

“No can do. You already got your present.”

“Roger I swear if you wear that out of the house-”

“Nope I’m wearing it. And I prepared for you to say no,” he said as he grinned mischievously, “Freddie knows that I was planning to wear this jacket. But if I don’t show up wearing said jacket, he’s going to make you play BoRhap with him. At the party.”

“First off you promised that you wouldn’t tell him I could play the piano-”

“Well…. I also made him promise to never ask you about it unless I wasn’t wearing the jacket-”

“And secondly. Blackmailing me to let you wear your dumb jacket? Really?”

“I wouldn’t call it blackmailing so much as casual persuasion…”

“Hmm…” Lena said.

Lena dumped another round of whiskey into her cup of coffee. “You know what fine. I don’t even care. But more than anything you owe me because now I can’t wear my red jacket.”

“Why?” “Because we’ll clash horribly,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh obviously. We could never ever put pink and red together like that.”

“Exactly. Now Mr. Pink Suit Man. Can we get going to this party?”

“Oh hush. I know you like the rest of my outfit. You always say you love when I wear these pants.”

“Sure I do.”

“Whatever,” he laughed, “Let’s go, limo will be here,” he looked at the clock, “five minutes ago.”

“A limo. Really?” Lena deadpanned, shaking her head.

“Yes really.”

The ride to the party was exceptionally uneventful as she had half expected the rest of the boys to spring out of hidden compartments or something. But she supposed that this was just the calm before the storm.

Upon arrival to their destination and after disembarking the car, Roger offered her his arm, grinning like an idiot.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m so happy to be here to celebrate your birthday with you. And well, I don’t know, just wait and see.”

“Okay?”

Lena let herself be led up the steps and into Freddie’s home. She should have suspected it would be at his house. All his best parties were at his house because he could perfectly formulate everything to be just how he wanted. And control the guest list she hoped.

No one but the roadie who opened the door for them noticed their presence immediately and Lena had time to properly take in the scale of the occasion.

The party was already in full swing, and at first glance it looked nothing like the classic rock and roll parties she was used to. Everything was arranged in perfect orderly fashion, the food that littered various tables all looked like collections of french delicacies and there was what looked to be bottles of her favorite brand of champagne protruding from ice buckets throughout the room. People were standing and chatting and clinking glasses in an uncharacteristically formal manor and the way the place was lit reminded Lena distinctly of a roaring twenties, Gatsby reminiscent party.

That was until the chandelier lurched with movement causing a loud tinkle as the thousands of little crystals collided with each other. Lena looked up to see that there was someone in a very long and flowing white dress lying lazily in the chandelier. In looking up she could see that the entirety of the room was actually filled with a hazy smoke and the woman in the chandelier was really quite smart to be up there near the balloons that flitted along the ceiling and above the cloud that engulfed the party goers. The closer she looked, the more familiar the scene became. Champaign fizzed seemingly auditorily and there was the heavy, bitter smell of alcohol wafting around the room. There were the remnants of some white substance on the table and too much girlish laughter. But this was the sort of party that she was used to and could almost like, because there were so many people that it became intimate and if you situated yourself just right there was proper amounts of privacy. And so far Freddie had kept his word; every single face she saw she could put a name to.

Lena and Roger wandered through the crowd downing a couple glasses of champagne each before finding Freddie who announced the two with tipsy enthusiasm. At his request the entire crowd sang her happy birthday as she blushed the color of Roger’s blazer.

As the off key and slurred song concluded Freddie leaned in to whisper into Lena’s ear conspiratorially.

“If you go over there just now,” he whispered directing her gaze to the corner, “you will see a tall, only mildly high man whom you might find very interesting.”

Lena looked in the direction he had indicated and searched the crowd. The only thing that stood out to her was a shock of dyed red hair on someone facing away from her while the rest of the faces faded into familiarity.

“I don’t-”

Just then the head of red hair turned and Lena saw that red hair faded into blonde at the front of the man’s head. Lena blinked a couple times at the man before looking back to Freddie with wide eyes.

“Is that David fucking Bowie?”

Freddie smiled delightedly, “And if you want to meet him darling you had better do so now because he has a concert tonight that he should have already left for.”

“How-”

“Don’t ask any questions, it ruins the magic of it.”

“But-”

“Darling, let’s just say that I’m the fairy godmother of rock n’ roll.”

Lena immediately ditched Roger in favor of meeting one of the most iconic people she’d ever heard sing. However, as soon as she plunged into the crowd, she was met with a wall of astoundingly large and curly black hair. Assuming it was Brian, she shouldered past, but upon coming face to face with the man, she discovered immediately it was not.

“Watch it pretty thing” the mop of black hair stated.

Another mop of black hair appeared next to him, “Nah, you gotta be the one to get outta the way Gene, that’s the lady of the night.”

“Oh, my apologies pretty thing,” Gene responded, grinning.

For the second time that night Lena had to snap her mouth shut.

“Name’s Paul, and this is Gene,” the other said, sticking out his hand.

Lena shook it hesitantly, and with even more reservation at shaking Gene’s hand, completely bewildered as to why half of Kiss was standing in Freddie’s living room.

“Nice to meet you?”

“Don’t say that as a question pretty thing, you just shook hands with half of the sexiest band in the world,”

Lena laughed, “Yes I know who you are. I just thought you were on tour in the States?”

“We were,” Paul said, “But we just got over and Freddie convinced us to come a little early to London.”

“Yes, and now that we’ve met you it’s most definitely worth it,” Gene grinned almost too mischievously.

“Thanks. I think?”

Paul rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind him-”

“But pretty thing, you’d mind me quite nicely-”

“Okay that is quite enough of that,” Roger said appearing at her side, “And besides Lena, Bowie is literally leaving and Freddie is really insisting that you meet him before he leaves.”

Gene was about to say something that Lena had no doubt was derogatory toward Roger, but Paul elbowed him in the ribs and he settled for wagging his tongue at her.

“Oh my God don’t do that,” Lena laughed, “It was wonderful to meet you!”

A little more harshly than necessary Roger dragged her off into the crowd to the direction that she had last seen David Bowie.

Briefly they just managed to catch him as he left the house. Perhaps it was Lena’s expectancy of what he would be like, or the fact that she had already consumed a little too much to drink, but the short thirty seconds in his presence were electrifying. He greeted her with a smooth grin and inexplicit energy as he shook her hand, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. He wished her a ‘wondrous and magical birthday’ and then was whisked out the front door.

Lena looked at Roger starstruck, “We just met David Bowie.”

“Yes we just did.”

“And Kiss almost prevented us from doing so.”

“Yes, they unfortunately did,” Roger said making a disgusted face. His face quickly split into a grin, “And now you’re about to hear Queen play you a set specially put together just for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes of course, it’s your birthday, what else would we do?”

It was actually much later that Roger managed to round up all four of them and play her their short collection of songs that they had selected for her, but in the meantime, Lena enjoyed herself immensely. She drank too much of her favorite champagne, smoked something that was definitely a little more potent than what she had been told it was, and consumed a few too many of the little chocolate desserts that littered the tables. Gene Simmons continued to wag his tongue at her across the room anytime he made eye contact, to which Roger would immediately glare at him. To which Lena would laugh in response. Perhaps it was because she was more than a little drunk, but Lena was immensely enjoying herself.

She had perched herself on top of Freddie’s largest and most outrageous piece of furniture when she heard feedback screech and Freddie’s voice bound into the room.

“Okay darlings. You all know that today is lovely Lena’s birthday-” there was a loud, half drunken cheer, “And as such here is a little set we’ve concocted for our very special lady.”

Freddie looked at the others and nodded.

“To begin, we have Lena’s favorite Queen song, at least according to Roger. And I do suspect that it really is your favorite song, because it was not written by him,” Freddie said making eye contact with her.

The audience laughed and Roger rolled his eyes laughing.

They began the song, and it was immediately recognizable as ‘39 which really was Lena’s favorite song. Lena studied them as they played.

Roger had somewhere over the course of the night discarded his pink blazer, now leaving him looking quite dashing. Freddie was ever the dramatist of the group, sporting only a black, gold fringed military uniform and leather pants. He didn’t even have shoes on. Deaky was dressed in typical Deaky fashion, classy but in such a way that was distinctly not classical. Tonight he had donned an all white suit, even wearing white high heeled shoes to match the look. And Brian was, as per usual, out dressing the rest of them by leaps and bounds on the actual classy level. He wore black pants, a white button down and a black vest, all accompanied by his big head of hair and the Red Special.

Cohesively they exuded the sort of glam rock vibe that Lena had come to so desperately love about them. ‘39 was played through with it’s typical exuberance and in accoustic fashion.

Upon its conclusion the crowd clapped with astounding noise, but it soon died down once Roger began to speak into his microphone.

“This next song isn’t one of our-”

“Such a shame really,” Freddie interrupted.”

“But it’s a really excellent one that I know you like Lena and I thought we’d play it for you tonight.”

At the intro to the song Lena couldn’t quite identify what it was, but as soon as Freddie began to sing she grinned, and began to sway along.

Something by the Beatles echoed through the room, resonating only the way classics such as that do. Hearing this song, one she loved so much, that she had loved for such time, long before even hearing of Queen’s existence, was a surreal experience. Somehow they played it perfectly in their own way, Roger’s high voice filling the spaces next to Freddie’s and Brian’s uniquely, bringing it alive anew.

As it concluded on the last couple notes the crowd burst into applause again, this time with much more exuberance at hearing such a rendition of Something.

Once the crowd had quieted to a dull roar, Freddie spoke again. “And now, a new song off our forthcoming record, written by Mr. Pretty Boy himself, and frankly only just finished, in fact you’ll all be the first to hear it, just for you: You and I.

It began with a classic Queen piano intro, Freddie’s fingers dancing across the keys. Then Roger’s drums came in and the song picked up slightly, but still remained on a slower tempo than that which one normally thinks of as classic seventies rock. After several lines Lena felt her throat tighten as they played.

Laughter ringing in the darkness

People drinking for days gone by

Time don't mean a thing

When you're by my side

Please stay awhile

You know I never could foresee the future years

You know I never could see

Where life was leading me

But will we be together forever

What will be my love

Can't you see that I just don't know

The instrumental interlude left Roger slightly more free to place his focus on Lena rather than his playing and he looked for her in the crowd, smiling wide. She met his eyes, tears of emotion almost pricking her own. This song was for her, and only her she knew as he watched her in the crowd, his eyes beaming. Rarely was she actually in the crowd when they played and even with this song just for her there was a fantastic energy, even despite all of the people present having heard Queen play dozens of times. Roger winked and blew her a kiss as they began to sing again.

No not tonight not tomorrow

Everything's gonna be alright (Sunny and bright)

Wait and see if tomorrow we'll be

As happy as we're feeling tonight

We'll go walking in the moonlight

I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

Be together just you and I just you and I

No more questions just you and I

The song faded leaving her fighting tears. The split second of silence between songs seemed like a little eternity that she did not ever want to end. She smiled happily at Roger, but almost even before he smiled back at her, they jumped immediately into Keep Yourself Alive.

The moment of serenity was gone in a flash as they transitioned into the song that was much more for the crowd of gathered friends and family than for her. Even this song though had been selected for her as it was another one of her favorites.

Experiencing their show from the crowd for the first time, Lena could physically feel the energy in the room skyrocket as if a switch had been flipped. Everything moved with cacophonic rhythm and the watching crowd had erupted in noise to keep up with the band. She found herself having more fun than she ever had at one of their shows and internally berated herself for never before watching from where it was meant to be experienced.

After the conclusion of their jam session Roger stumbled away from his drums and up to Lena, giving her a crushing hug, despite the fact that he was drenched in sweat.

“How is it possible that after only four songs you are so sweaty,” Lena said, muffled by his chest.

“It’s a bit toasty in here is all. What did you think?”

“Wonderful and amazing as usual Rog. And I don’t know why I’ve never watched a show in the audience before, it was so much more fun that way!”

“I know! I’ve been telling you that all along darling!” Freddie said as he flounced past.

The night continued accompanied by much more alcohol, a drunken Freddie singing half of Bohemian Rhapsody into the sound system and the woman in the chandelier making a very precarious leap onto the sofas below. How she had even gotten up there in the first place Lena was still unsure of. The half of Kiss that had been present bid their goodbyes from across the living room only by Gene waving his tongue at Lena and Paul distinctly rolling his eyes. Eventually the guests in Freddie’s home began to dwindle down and soon it was only the band and significant others left.

“Did you enjoy the party darling?” Freddie asked as he ushered them all to the door.

“It was absolutely lovely Fred. I could not imagine ever a better night. David Bowie? And Kiss?”

“Like I said, I’m the fairy godmother of rock n’ roll, and they all come when I go calling. And they all happened to be in London tonight.”

Lena gave him a tight hug, “Thank you, it was wonderful. And the rest of you, thank you as well. ” she said hugging them in turn.

She stayed attached to Roger when she hugged him and he wrapped his arm around her in turn as they walked together from Freddie’s doo.

Once home, they were both still mildly drunk and buzzing with excitement and it was a long time before they actually attempted to sleep. Finally though, they were facing each other, noses just barely touching.

“Can you sing me the song?” Lena whispered.

“Which song?”

“The song. The one you did tonight. The new one.”

He grinned at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his eyes sparking.

Everything's gonna be alright

Wait and see if tomorrow we'll be

As happy as we're feeling tonight

We'll go walking in the moonlight

I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

No more questions just you and I

Part 10 - July 1976 - Summer

The mirror in the quaint little washroom at her job did a poor job of reflecting how tired Lena was.

It had been a long day that had begun poorly; while making an unusual stop for coffee on the way to work she had been mobbed by Queen fans. Granted, they all had been kind and sweet and just wanting to meet her, but the experience had still left her hands shaking. The young women who had stopped her had all really been delightful, and in another situation she probably would have liked to be friends with them, but the fact that there had been so many of them, all demanding to say hello and tell them what it was like to be Roger Taylor’s girlfriend, had put her into a foul mood. Primarily because she had a panic attack at meeting them. Not because they had wanted to meet her, but rather the effect that it had on her.

Now, looking in the mirror she was not surprised to find that she looked tired and sad, her hair a little flatter than she normally liked it. The orange turtleneck that had looked so good with the brown skirt this morning now gave her a sallow glow. She hoped it was just the light of the washroom though.

Regardless, she turned away from her unfortunate reflection and changed into her favorite pair of bell bottoms, accompanied by a loose white blouse. When she returned to mirror she found that the change in color did wonders for her complexion and hoped that it would be enough to hide from Roger that she was so tired. Pulling her hair up and into a fashion that was less recognizable as belonging to ‘Roger Taylor’s pretty blonde girlfriend,’ she almost wished that they were back on tour where it was acceptable to look tired all the time. And where she could exist in a state of trying to be ready to meet fans and not take it as such a shock when they did come. And being able to be with Roger all the time. That was the part she truly missed. Glancing at her watch she found that Roger should be arriving any moment and she hurried down many flights of stairs and to the street level.

It was rare they spent any time with each other outside of their house these days. They were just too busy now to plan occasions anymore, and when they did, it almost always ended with Roger gripping Lena’s shaking hands after crossing paths with mobs of fans. Lena considered this and hoped that whatever he had planned would be devoid of any fans, because she was not sure she could handle any more of that today.

“How are you my love?” Roger asked as Lena stepped into his car. He floored the engine, speeding away from the curb as she answered.

“A little tired. But okay I think.”

“I hope you can be more than okay. I have the perfect little adventure planned for us. No drama, no nothing. Just you and I.”

Lena smiled and hoped that it would be true.

After a much longer drive than she had anticipated, which in itself had put her in much better spirits, they arrived on the outskirts of a park. With the sounds of some old rock ballad that she couldn’t recall the name to echoing in her ears, they departed from the car, Roger grasping an astoundingly large picnic basket and blanket.

“Where did you find that picnic basket?”

“I borrowed it from Freddie.”

“Of course, everything outrageous always comes from Fred doesn’t it?” Lena laughed

“Most definitely.”

They hiked together though the park, running into no one but several families who paid them no notice. But Lena though that might have had to do with the fact that Roger had his signature blonde hair tucked up underneath a very ugly hat and was wearing dark sunglasses that obscured his face. She supposed the hat was acceptable if they could avoid being talked to by fans.

Finally they settled upon a hilltop that looked out over the rest of the park and Roger spread the blanket out and began to unload the picnic basket. A warm breeze blew steadily across the hill, ruffling the starched summer grass.

Lena finally felt comfortable and nearly forgot to be afraid of potential fans as the hours passed and the sun began to sink low behind a distant hill. She had her head in Roger’s lap and was staring up at him as he stood out against the blue sky. Far off they could hear the screams and laughter of children running and playing, blending in with the even further off sound of London traffic.

A kid came barreling up the hill toward them in pursuit of a dog that had evaded him. The little dog ran up and licked Lena’s face before taking off, with the child still in pursuit. Laughing, Lena sat up and watched them go, a little girl joining the boy as they chased the dog. The dog looked pleased that it had both the children chasing it.

“I hope that we can have that one day,” Roger said suddenly as the children’s laughter faded.

Lena turned to face him, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, “What?” she said in almost a whisper.

“Oh, I just meant I hope that we can have kids one day and-”

“Rog,” Lena said interrupting him. She had been avoiding this conversation for a long time, and immediately felt immensely guilty that she had not brought it up before.

“Yeah?” he said absentmindedly, still watching the kids run off after the dog.

“Remember, remember a while ago when I told you not to worry about, about, you know, stuff, because I was on birth control?

“Yeah,” he said, still lost in his daydream.

“That wasn’t exactly true,” she said in a whisper.

That caught his attention and he looked at her with a joy, an excitement she rarely saw to be so genuine.

“Are you-” he breathed, his eyes wide.

Lena pressed her lips together, trying with all her might not to cry. This was way worse than any moment in which she had been surrounded by fans.

“No Rog.”

“Oh.”

“I, I, fuck- I’m sorry I did not ever tell you this-”

“Lena, are you okay?” he said, watching as the careful walls he knew she had built around herself begin to fall.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Rog. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I-” She hiccuped and swallowed hard. “I can’t have kids. I should have told you this an eternity ago before we became so, I don’t know, real. But I can’t have kids. Something happened when I was a teenager. It was either me or my ability to have kids, and obviously I’m still here ...I'm sorry, so sorry Rog,” she cried, suddenly bawling into his chest, as she watched a little light in his eyes go out.

He was silent for a second before whispering that it was alright, rocking her in his arms. He told her it would be okay, if they wanted kids they could adopt. And really did they even need kids of their own? They would always have John’s or eventually Brian’s or even Freddie’s to look after?

Lena continuously apologised until her hiccups faded, and then she began apologizing afresh for her overly emotional state. Besides reassuring her that it was not her fault and it was okay, she noticed that Roger was unusually quiet for a long time, so long that the park had all but begun to fade into darkness. Lena lit a cigarette in the dim light and the instant of flame from the little French lighter illuminated his eyes for a brief second. Then it was gone.

Part 11 - 18 September 1976 - Hyde Park

Despite leaving for Hyde Park several hours before the first band was supposed to play, Lena found herself stuck in traffic among thousands hoping to catch a glimpse of Queen perform tonight. It was not even a particularly long taxi ride, but now she was immensely regretting rejecting the limo that had been offered her. But she doubted that even a specially designated limo would be enough to get through the sheer hoards of fans crowding into the streets surrounding the park.

Eventually she was close enough that she could warrant walking. She checked her reflection in her compact mirror and pulled her hat down a little further on her face. Currently wearing the most boring and stereotypical outfit she could possibly concoct, the bell bottoms, Queen t-shirt and flat brimmed hat, which when angled correctly obscured her face, mostly hid her identity. The only thing that stood out in her appearance was the large bag at her side in which a whole new outfit was neatly folded and ready to be donned on arrival to the venue.

But for now she still had the problem of even getting there. At this point everyone was fairly calm, it was still early in the day and the energy of the band had not yet been imagined. However, if even a single person were to recognize her as Roger Taylor’s girlfriend, chaos would ensue and she would be all but attacked by the fans.

Fortunately this did not happen as she picked her way through the masses of people crowding into the park. By the time she came to someone of the appropriate security level who could escort her backstage, a buzz had begun to roll through the crowd as it neared the time the opening band was to play.

“What took you such an eternity to get here darling? We’d begun to think you weren’t coming,” Freddie exclaimed upon first seeing her.

“I should have accepted your limo offer-”

“Of course you should have, why ever else would you need a limo other than to get places on time.”

“Limos have never stopped you from being late before.”

“Valid. But regardless. I hope you brought other clothes because that outfit is boring.”

“Wow, thanks Fred,” Lena said sarcastically holding up her overly stuffed bag, “I’ve got a whole outfit don’t you worry. Where are the dressing rooms?”

Freddie waved vaughly to where the dressing rooms might be and something about the first door on the left. Or the right. He couldn’t remember.

Lena wandered in that direction, wondering what disaster she was going to find in the dressing rooms tonight.

None of the dressing rooms were occupied to Lena’s surprise, so she chose the least messy one and dumped her overstuffed bag onto the tables. Everything immediately exploded from its neatly folded position. Realistically, it was only the jean jacket had been her birthday present from the band that was taking up space, as both the colorfully striped bell bottoms and black top were made of a thin stretchy material that folded away easily.

Once changed into her ‘concert outfit’ and having had readjusted her hat, she cracked open the bottle of tequila that had been left on the table and took a swig. As she made a face in response, the door of the room opened to reveal a laughing Roger.

“I heard you’d finally arrived love, but I didn’t know you were already breakin’ into the alcohol.”

“Yes well, I do hope you have some beverages that taste better than this, because straight tequila will not do.”

Roger laughed and enveloped her in a hug. “Fred made sure to hide your favorite champagne from the rest of us.” He rested his chin on top of Lena’s head, saying, “I’ve missed touring with you.”

“I’ve missed seeing you.”

“I know! But you’re still coming to the next couple shows right?” His eyebrows knitted with worry, “And back to help us touch up anything before we release the record?”

“Yes, but only until the end of the year.”

“Three months is a long time.”

“Hmm, but not long enough,” Lena said now leaning in closer to him, just brushing her lips across his. She didn’t know why she was encouraging this because these dressing room makeout sessions would more often than not turn into something far more than she intended.

Roger had just lifted Lena’s hat off and his fingers were beginning to trail along her waistline when the door slammed open revealing an equally passionate John and Veronica.

“Dressing room already occupied,” Roger said in a distinctly customer service voice.

Before anyone could answer and further add to the situation, somebody yelled down the hall for them to “get your asses up here. I swear if I have to come down there and ya’ll are fucking in the dressing rooms again-”

“Coming Fred!” Lena yelled back and led the way past the rest of them and back up near the stage.

The rest of the night prior to their going on was a whirl of laughter and joking as the boys prepared and vaguely watched the other bands play. All dressed in white they stood out even against the dimly lit wings of the stage, just as they had hoped.

“Nice ballet slippers Fred,” Lena said, gesturing at his shoes.

“Why thank you darling, aren’t they just gorgeous?”

“From far away you won’t even be able to tell that they aren’t white,” Roger said.

Freddie glared at him, “They are barely even tinted pink. And I like them. You don’t have to.”

“Fine then.”

Lena laughed, “You two are ridiculous. You’re all ridiculous.”

“Yes we are darling, that’s why you love us,” Freddie said.

Brian came up just then, flapping his arms about, creating a very realistic impression of a great white bird, as the sleeves on his shirt billowed about.

“And then we have Mr. Birdman, with his large white wings.”

Brian waved his arms again to further the effect, “Thank you, I always intend to look like I could just fly right off the stage.”

“Nah, darling, that’s my job. You just play that guitar and I’ll be the one going to the heavens.”

“Whatever you say Fred,” Brian responded, rolling his eyes with humor.

Soon their entrance could not be prolonged any longer and the band took their places in preparation to go on stage.

“Do you want to go out and watch?” Freddie whispered as the others prepared to go on.

“I wouldn’t be able to get out there.”

“You could go into the press pit if you like. You’ve never watched one of our big shows from the audience and this is a big show. Over 150,000 people.”

“Is it safe to do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll just have somebody take you to the press pit and you can go wherever you like, love!”

Lena grinned, “Okay, if you say so.”

“I’ll prolong the show just a little longer to make sure you get out there in time.”

“Thanks Fred.”

He walked away and whispered to some crew members who came to escort her to the pit. She looked over her shoulder and saw the rest of them grinning at her, Deaky even giving a thumbs up, mouthing “See you out there.”

After being significantly jostled around and earning some glares from photographers until they caught sight of her face, she found herself pressed up against the barricade separating the press from the fans..

The light had faded, nearing darkness, just as the band had hoped. The sky was now a fading purple that barely illuminated the crowd behind her. The stage itself was silent and dark for the time being but the anticipation in the audience was anything but quiet.

No sooner had Lena imagined the stage to be soundless, the first half minute of Tie Your Mother Down played through the speakers in what would become the riff to bookend the Day at the Races album, earning a deafening cheer from the audience. The intro built and then the stage faded into silence again for a short moment before falling into the famous piano chords of Bohemian Rhapsody. The overdub of the song played until a spotlight dropped center stage to reveal the white clad Freddie, glowing etherally, when the band came in just as just before Freddie sang;

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

Ohh, baby, can’t do this to me baby.

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.”

And Queen had arrived. The stage was filled with smoke and light, just how they’d intended it to look in the falling darkness, the shards of light bouncing through their hair, giving them heavenly halos. The rock section of Bohemian Rhapsody flowed right into Ogre Battle and the concert was on its way.

Magic flowed over Lena. They became someone else on stage. Suddenly the people playing before her were strangers, and yet she knew them all better than she ever had before. She was in love with a completely new person that she barely knew, yet somehow more themselves. This was who they really were, up on stage. There was something about their energy, the power in Freddie’s voice and the electricity in Brian’s guitar. They were legends themselves just as they were inspired by the legends that preceded them. It was loud, even the first few moments of the sound of Brian’s rich, sweet sounding guitar left her ears ringing.

Her back was up against the last row of the press pit as it seemed like the best place to be as close to feeling the energy of the crowd without actually being in it. Halfway through their second song Lena felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Are you Lena?” the girl behind her yelled over the sound of the music.

“Yeah I am.”

“Nice to meet you! Enjoy the show!” Lena blinked at her in somewhat astonishment. But then she realized that right now and forever it was about the music; it was about nothing else but guitar riffs and heavy drums and bass lines and Freddie’s voice. It was about them and their ability to have that energy on stage, how they could make the music feel fresh every night, how it could make you feel; it was about the music. It was about creating something in the audience that made them feel alive, and as if they were experiencing something on some celestial plane of existence. Live their music is a little more dirty, not so fresh cut as on studio versions. They knew how to work the crowd, to show them it was their music just as much as the band’s.

She felt very alive in the moment. She knew that many of the songs being played were being played to fresh ears and the audience didn’t know them, but the energy in the music was raw and powerful. The space where the crowd was left to sing back were moments of togetherness with people she didn't know, didn’t want to know, friends she could have had, or hated, but for a few moments she was just one of them, someone in the crowd.

Riding high on adrenaline and screaming the lyrics louder than she ever had before, it was not long before the stage crashed into darkness as Brian brought out his acoustic and introduced ‘39. Roger had brought forward the kick drum and a tambourine as was custom, and the four white birds stood together to perform Lena’s favorite song.

Perhaps it was because Roger really was looking for her in the pit, but every moment that she locked eyes with one of them, not just Roger, electricity would flow through her body. The band let their eyes roam the crowd, careful not to linger too long on one person, even her. Light shown through Brian’s hair and Freddie’s eyes glittered with excitement. It felt like it was just her and the band, experiencing their music as she never had before, as it was intended to be played, live and to the masses.

In recordings of the performance that Lena would look back on in years to come, not much can be heard but Freddie’s voice, a deep bassline and the audience screaming, folding into clips of what rock music should really be; alive. Everything was blurred and louder in the recordings, but it still held remnants of what it was like to be there, reminding her of the energy she felt, the electricity that caused people to clap to the beat, to scream the words to songs they’d only just heard, and fall in love with people they barely knew.

In moments where there was less movement and the lights were drawn down to fall only on the piano she found herself floating out in space. Just Freddie’s voice and the piano with the audience coming in even when they had yet to hear a studio version. They sang back at him and he kept playing for them, their voices bringing the song alive, the audience taking the music as their own. It meant something different to everyone, down to the kid who had never heard a rock band before in their life, to the girl who has followed the band from their early days, it belonged to them.

Lena had been told to leave after Keep Yourself Alive in order to safely get backstage before the show ended, but seeing as she did not want to ever leave this moment, she saw no real reason to leave, other than the fact that she would now have to fight a large collection of impatient photographers.

The last song caused the venue to ripple with fresh energy as the crowd knew it would end soon.

“Thank you and goodnight my darlings!” Freddie shouted as he belted out the last haunting notes of Lap of the Gods before the lights flared once more and the stage descended into darkness. The sound of the gong being dramatically hit rang through the dark and then only the sound of the crowd remained, hoping for an encore. Lena, knowing there was not going to be one, maneuvered through the photographers and backstage where she met the band, sweating and grinning wildly.

Part 12 - November 1976 - In the Fall

She was somewhere, the recollection of the actual location had long since left her, for it didn't matter anyway, she could feel like she was being ripped apart from the inside anywhere.

Wading through the crowd earlier that night she had felt alive and had forgotten her fear of the world around her, all the pain had gone away, faded into the rhythm of the drum, Freddie's voice and sweet guitar riffs. But now that she was obligated to be at this party, everything had come back.

Alone from anyone she knew well at the moment, Lena cradled the bottle of Jack in her fist, listing precariously as she moved through the crowded room. She couldn't decide if it would be better if someone she knew came and stopped her, or if she could just continue to destroy herself and make all the poor choices she had sworn never to make. Eventually a less than sober John joined her, throwing an arm around her in an effort to steady himself, but only ended up nearly knocking them both to the floor.

"Jesus Lena, usually you're the one we all can lean on. What's gotcha?"

"I couldn't really say, you know?" Lena answered, waving her bottle of whiskey, which she realized was a mistake, for as soon as she took her focus off it, her grip slipped and it smashed to the floor, sending glass and golden liquid across the floor.

The sound was just loud enough to cause a momentary silence and pause in the party but it didn't stay like that for long. John hurriedly helped her clean up the majority of the glass and by that time Roger had found them and took the obligation of the incoherent Lena away from John.

"Lena love, are you okay?" he said trying to direct her attention solely onto him. It wasn't exactly working.

"You know, the chandelier is particularly gorgeous tonight, but very bright."

Roger's eyes flitted upward without turning his head, assessing that the chandelier looked no different than on any other occasion at which they'd seen it.

Before he had a chance to respond a large group came up to them, engaging in a wandering conversation that Lena only mildly was able to follow, something about the latest fashion faux pas Freddie had made and how that had inherently become the new fashion trend. And on and on about the band and listless small talk about nothing. Eventually Lena excused herself from the circle in search of something else to quell the anxiety in her chest.

Nobody paid her much attention until she got to the bar set up on the far side of the room. The unfamiliar bartender blinked at her in recognition before asking what she wanted.

"I'd really like to stop feeling."

"Hmm, I recommend vodka."

When he turned away she snatched the open bottle of vodka just outside of his field of vision. She then accepted whatever he made her, poured it into her stolen bottle and moved back across the room where she settled on one of the overly decorative couches that adorned the too full living room. Drowning anything in alcohol was not a good choice she knew, and was not even a choice she could reprimand herself for; she had never made any rules against drowning sorrows like this because she'd never imagined that she would be in a place where she'd need to.

Someone eventually joined her, but she didn't care to discern who.

The person reached and took the bottle of vodka from her and took a swig themselves. They did not give it back.

"No one drinks a bottle of vodka for kicks I don't think," Roger said softly to her.

It took Lena too long to fully register what he said, or that it was him at all.

"No. I don't think they do."

Uncharacteristically, Lena realized, he was significantly more sober than she and he knew it too and knew it meant something bad. Neither said anything in response to this thought.

"Cigarette?" he offered.

"No", she said, but took it anyways. Her unsteady fingers had a difficult time holding it to his lighter.

"Lena-" Roger started, but she interrupted him, sounding far more coherent than he had anticipated her to be.

"I don't belong here, I am not worthy to be here. I love you, I love it, the lifestyle, the people, the places I get to go, but I don't think I'm cut out for it. I'm just not made to be able to live life like this, so fast and dirty all the time. Everyone continues to tell me that it's going to be alright and I just have to get through the rough patches and adjust to this, adjust to being in the spotlight, but I'm not strong enough for that. Even though people continue to tell me that over and over I continuously feel less worthy the more I fail to handle it and get used to it. This expectation that I feel, imaginary or not is breaking me. You are just out here creating music doing what you love. Enjoying this party, enjoying these people. And I am here with my face plastered on magazines solely because I am with you. My worth is defined by my attachment to you. And I feed into that and let myself find worth in that, as hard as I try not to. Music history will see me as... see right there, me caring what history has to say of me, me caring at all, when it should just be about us and who we are-"

She stopped her rambling and refocused on Roger wanting to see his response. He looked sad, his lips turned down and a little frown forming between his brows. It was cute.

"I wish I could go back to the way it was, the simplicity of us just being us, no one else to tell us what we should or should not be. I miss that. Now there's all these things, these people and they expect so much. And I just can't deal with that. Actually, that's not even true. I could deal with that. But Rog, I just can't do life with my face being plastered on magazine covers. Or the paparazzi. I know that sounds stupid, but like you've seen, it literally gives me anxiety attacks. You are meant to touch the stars, to be in the spotlight; and I am just not. I am meant to be the person who fades into the background, quite literally."

"I think you're the strongest woman I've ever met, and if there's anyone that can handle it, it's going to be you. We can change things, we can not go to these," Roger waved his hands and the commotion in the room, "we can just be us, go back to where we ignore the world a little."

"No we can't. We never even did. I just didn't realize they were watching, and it was once I became aware that they were watching was when it got bad."

"We can do whatever you want, I just want to keep you safe, to keep you from how you are now."

"I don't think you really can. Even in the midst of this, you can look at my destruction all you want, but it's nothing compared to what's in my head."

Some part of her incoherent brain knew she was hurting him, but she also knew sober Lena would never voice her concerns out of this fear of hurting him. Drunk Lena was honest to a fault.

"How can I help you then?"

"I don't know Rog."

The momentary seclusion from the party they had experienced suddenly vanished as some drunken onlooker responded with "How 'bout another drink?" and handed Lena a glass of something revoltingly strong. Before Roger could stop her, she downed it.

He looked at her sadly, not knowing how else to respond.

"Let's get you home."

"Are you sure? Don't you want to stay and enjoy the party?"

"Not with you like this."

"Hm what about like this?" Lena said, leaning his and sloppily kissing him, her hands tangling in his hair.

For a moment he reciprocated but then pulled away, her lipstick leaving his white shirt stained red.

"I think you really need to go home."

Falling all over him as he steered them through the crowded party, Lena lost any real sense of what was going on and let herself be all but carried. She did not recollect whom they said goodbye to or who looked at her with concern or who drove them home. Or even that it was raining, a cold ugly rain that should have mildly brought her out of her stupor. But it didn't. She barely even remembered Roger helping her pull off her concert clothes in exchange for sweatpants and a tshirt once within the confines of their home.

The next morning, or rather afternoon, when Lena awoke her whole body ached and her head was pounding. Her stomached stirred involuntarily and she launched herself from the bed and toward the bathroom, causing the room to start spinning. She barely made it before she spewed her insides into the toilet, the commotion causing Roger to come quickly up the stairs.

Guilt coursed through her, having more of an effect than the ripping pain in her head, and she could barely look at him as she vaughly recollected the words she'd said many hours before.

Later, sitting across from him in their little kitchen clutching her second cup of coffee and a bagel, he still looked at her with heavy concern etched on his face.

Their conversation this morning had been stiff and halting and dancing around the question she knew he wanted to ask. Finally he did.

"Did you mean what you said last night?"

"I don't remember all of it-"

"How much of it do you remember?"

"Enough to know," she paused, feeling her eyes beginning to water, "know that I meant it."

Part 13 - 24 December 1976 - Berkeley Square

In the last few months things had gotten better as both Roger and Lena had taken steps to live a more normal life. There were less public occasions that Lena felt obligated to attend, and when there were, Lena felt heard and as if the rest of the band was acutely aware of her, and tried their best to shield her from the life she did not want. But that did not stop the world from continuing on.

Life had seemed to fall more into a normal rhythm and level out to a point of being okay. There were no more rambling drunk conversations and no more vocalized existential crises. Lena had begun to feel as if it would work out and not end in some incalculable disaster.

This particular party had purpose and was not intended for the mindless assortment of people that were commonly invited, but family only in celebration of the holiday season. Countless hours of work had gone into decorating Roger and Lena’s home, cleaning up the non-existent mess in order to spruce up it up for the special occasion. The lights were hung, the tree taking up too much of the living room and a fire burned steadily in the fireplace. Lena had crafted the perfect table settings and was only waiting for the turkey to be done as the guests began to arrive. Lena supposed that they barely even counted as guests given that she saw them all nearly everyday, but tonight was different with the decorated house and specially prepared feast.

“Darling you’ve done such a wonderful job, the house looks glorious,” Freddie said sweeping in the front door.

“Really she did outdo herself,” Roger interjected.

“You helped. Sort of,” Lena replied.

“Well, I helped cook at least.”

“Exactly.”

By the time the turkey was done the house was brimming with Christmas cheer as everyone had arrived. John and Veronica beamed at Freddie holding their now year old son Robert as Brian begged to be the next one to hold him. Kashmira sipped a glass of champagne and kept glancing conspiratorially between Lena and Roger despite fully knowing that they were a couple, teasing them even in their own house. Freddie’s mother beamed happily at her son and congratulated him again for his recent album release and the family he had found because of it.

A light snow had begun to fall outside as Lena rallied them all to the dining table. A prayer was said over the meal and Roger took it upon himself to overly ceremoniously carve the turkey.

“Would you just hurry up and make less of an event of it,” Brian complained, “I’m absolutely famished.”

Roger shot him an amused glance and proceeded even slower in his serving of the meat.

Sitting next to Roger mid-way through the meal Lena was quiet; this was her family, more so than she had felt in many years. Roger continually squeezed her hand in happy reminders that he was there, Freddie’s laughter bubbled in the room, Brian continuously joked, and Deaky looked so elated to have been able to bring his son and properly include him into the band family. Everything glowed with golden firelight and joyous laughter. After dinner was cleared away they each exchanged presents, despite having vowed to only purchase small little gifts for one another. The night drew on and the fire burned low and voices fell to a murmur. More champagne was poured, Freddie’s parents went home and Lena rocked little Robert in her arms.

Brian had been staring at Lena for the last five minutes and finally she interrupted his gaze.

“Bri, what are you staring at?”

“Just you. And Roger. And thinking about how you guys will be one day.”

Lena’s heart twisted, knowing what he meant.

“What do you mean?” Roger asked, only half paying attention.

“Just that you guys will one day have a little one and it won’t be like this forever. And we will all have our own families to share Christmas with.”

“Oh. Right,” Roger responded, shooting Lena a glance, but not so much that anyone else noticed. Lena bit her lip hard in an effort to maintain a straight face and cast her eyes down.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, carefully passing Robert to Veronica.

In the kitchen, Lena poured herself the last of the champagne, an aching pain slowly growing in her heart.

“Lena love, are you alright?” Roger asked, having followed her and quietly entered the kitchen.

A single tear fell and she hastily wiped it away, “No.”

“I’m so sorry love,” Roger said as he came over and enveloped her in his arms.

“No I’m sorry. I’m the one who can’t have kids. And, and-” she sniffled.

“Lena, we’ve discussed this before. It will all be fine, we can adopt or just not have kids. Whatever you want.”

“I just want you to be happy. And for you to have your own kids.”

“Just you are enough to make me happy.”

“That is the most cliche thing you’ve ever said,” Lena said, now laughing through tears.

Roger grinned, “Thanks, are you ready for more cliche?”

“Uh no?”

“Just you wait.”

Many hours of talk and laughter later everyone had said their goodbyes and shared a chorus of “Merry Christmas” and Lena was still wondering what on earth Roger could possibly be planning.

“Put on your coat! Let’s go!” Lena’s eyes shot open in exasperation, “Where? It’s nearly midnight!”

“Exactly, we mustn't be late!”

Completely and utterly confused Lena followed Roger out the door and into the car where they drove through empty streets into the heart of London. Finally he stopped the car and demanded that she close her eyes.

“Roger this is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Exactly, and that’s why you love me.”

Lena rolled her eyes before conceding and letting Roger lead her what seemed like several blocks before stopping. There was no wind, but she the snow falling lightly on her skin. Only the occasional sound of a car passed by and she couldn’t place where they would be given the place they had traveled to. The closest place she could fathom was Hyde Park, but that still seemed like too far a walk from where they had parked.

Finally Roger stopped her. “Don’t open just yet. Wait twenty more seconds ...”

“Rog-”

“Just wait.”

“Okay and open…. Now.” And she did. And as she did so the sound of music filled the vacant square.

There was a deep, snow muffled silence in Berkeley Square aside from the song echoing around them. The only movement was their own as Roger had grasped Lena’s hands and began lazily waltzing her through the snow. It was the same song they had danced to the night they met, the one Brian had sang that night, and the same one that Roger had played again when they’d first moved into their house. And now it was echoing through the streets after which it was named.

“Rog, how-”

“Like Freddie always says, don’t ask, it ruins the magic.”

“You know I really don’t think it does.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Thank you Rog.”

“Merry Christmas Lena,” he said as they clung to each other, slowly swaying around the empty square to the rhythm of their song.

The moon that lingered over London town;

Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown

How could he know we two were so in love

The whole darn world seemed upside down

The streets of town were paved with stars

It was such a romantic affair

And as we kissed and said goodnight

A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

Part 14 - 31 December 1976 - Last Party

She thought it would get better but it didn’t. She thought that relief of some of the stresses she’d been carrying would allow healing to come and allow her time to battle all the other things that she had for so long let sit. But now those things she had forgotten about, the pain, the anxiety crept upon her in her relaxed state, and again she found herself afraid that those terrible things had only gone away because she had been too busy to notice them, not because she was getting better.

It was one of those days where she didn’t ever quite wake up and every single human interaction felt forced and she felt guilty that it was so. Even seeing the people she loved most in the world was draining and from the moment she woke up, she felt the inherent need to immediately go back to sleep.

She didn’t want to have to fight this battle anymore, this betrayal of her mind to itself, this cycle of thinking she was stronger, better, and living life and then discover that she was in fact not.

Clad in her little black dress and red leather jacket, Lena clung to Roger’s arm as they entered into the New Year’s party being thrown on behalf of the band, for the band, or by the band; she couldn’t really remember and didn’t really care. Everyone that she knew and everyone she didn’t know was there; what felt like half of London was crammed into the space. It was all too dark and too bright simultaneously with glitters and golds illuminating the low lit space. Light reflected off glasses and laughter tinkled just below the music being pumped into the room. Immediately Lena searched for the source of the music and thought it comical that that’s all that mattered to her even after so long; that it was the music she first thought of.

“Hellooooo loves! Welcome to the last party of the year!” Freddie sung, having spotted them.

“You really outdid yourself on this,” Lena deadpanned.

“I know you don’t like these parties love, but you don’t have to stay all that long if you’d like. It's all up to you. Do try to have some fun?”

“Thanks Fred.”

“Look,” Roger shouted in her ear, as that was the volume needed to be heard over the hoard of people, “There’s Kashmira over there with the rest.”

Lena followed his gaze and sure enough, John, Brian, and Kashmira were somewhat awkwardly occupying the adjacent corner.

“Why do you all look so awkward over here?” Roger joked when they had made their way over.

“Seriously, you look like you’ve adopted my attitude toward parties,” Lena added.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for that,” Kashmira said, shooting Lena a wink.

Lena scowled at her in response, but knew she was right; usually Lena did get very drunk in effort to avoid her problems. Not a great choice.

“Well?” Roger asked again.

“No reason really,” John said, “Neither Veronica, nor Chrissie,” he said nodding at Brian, “wanted to come. And I’m only just dropping in because I have to get back to be with Robert.”

“See Rog, why did we even come?” Lena wined.

“Because you wanted to see meeeee!” Kashmira chimed in, “Everything is much more fun with you here. Everyone else is a boring drunk. You’re a philosophical funny drunk and wonderful to hang with. Sober too of course.”

“And Freddie really wanted us to come. We don’t have to stay long if you don’t want,” Roger said.

“Alright then,” Lena said, “Somebody get us some champagne! We have 1976 to celebrate. And 1977 can only be better, right?”

With Kashmira there the party was ever more fun than usual and Lena found this to be a rare occasion in which she was actually enjoying herself. Perhaps it had to do with the band staying secluded together, laughing in the corner or the fact that she was not in the least incoherent from alcohol. Maybe it had been a mistake to have fallen into Roger’s arms drunk after parties for the past year.

However, as the night grew later and midnight neared the party dissolved and only Kashira remained by Lena’s side. She could see Brian snaking his way toward the door and no sign of John. Roger’s shock of blonde hair stood out even from across the room where he stood talking to a dark haired woman whose name she could never remember. Freddie bobbed between groups as he usually did, making conversation with everyone. Lena’s eyes shifted back to Roger and found him where he was only a moment earlier, however this time she looked harder at him, observing.

He maintained a respectful distance from the gorgeous woman, but she could see how happy he was. Perhaps it had to do with who he was talking to and perhaps not, Lena found she was not even jealous of the way he was looking at her. Instead she realized that he had chosen not to stick by her side, and that anytime she was with him in public, he only looked at her with anxiety, stressing about whether or not she was okay. Public occasions never seemed fun for him anymore. In fact, it seemed that much of his life revolved around Lena’s problems with fame. Suddenly all of the comfort the previous hours had granted faded away and she felt very much out of place.

“What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Kashmira asked.

“Something about me is wrong. Not physically, just something isn’t right. I’m not even sure what it is or why. Maybe I need some whiskey. Or some music turned up so loud that I can’t hear myself think. I don’t know.”

“Both of those can be arranged you know,” she said in true Freddie fashion.

Before Lena had a chance to interject, Kashmira scampered away in the direction of Freddie. Five minutes later she returned, glass of whiskey in hand.

“I have requested that Queen play us an end of the year song. Very loudly. Very obnoxiously. And here’s you drink.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Freddie has been on the peruse for someone to ask him to play all night. Just let him.”

“Well he’d better hurry because he needs at least one guitarist I think and Brian has been trying to leave for the last hour.”

“Valid point. I’ll go catch him.”

In another five minutes Kashmira had effectively, much more effectively that Lena had ever seen, rounded up the three remaining members and coerced them into doing a song for everyone. Feedback scratched through the house’s sound system and Brian could be heard complaining that the guitar Freddie had handed him was absurdly out of tune.

“In case you’re just boring enough to have not heard anything off our new album, here is a little sample for all you lovely people as we close off the year.

They jumped into a screeching, crashing version of Tie Your Mother Down and then spluttered into a fast and heavy version of Somebody To Love, both of which sounded a bit off without John. And it was loud. So loud. Loud enough to block out Lena’s immediate thoughts.

“Better?” Kashmira yelled in her ear and proceeded to hand her another drink.

“Much,” Lena said and smiled.

A few minutes to midnight the song concluded, or rather abruptly stopped, and everyone was bustling with new movement to have a drink and someone to kiss in the new year. In a brief moment of despair Lena realized she stood alone.

Even as the countdown began she still remained standing alone, eyes searching the yelling crowd for the shock of blonde hair she knew so well. The despair that had previously been only a small pond overflowed into a sea, causing a heart wrenching twist in her stomach.

At the last moment framilair hands gripped her waist and spun her around.

“I nearly couldn’t find you,” Roger’s lips whispered into hers.

Lena gave a small halfhearted smile, “I nearly thought you weren’t coming.”

Roger gave a small chuckle as if to laugh away her foolish idea, kissing her as the crowd cheered and the first seconds of the new year befell them.

Part 15 - 1 January 1977 - Home Again

The first few hours of 1977 vanished quickly into the night and it was not long before Roger and Lena were once again within the confines of their home. Her red leather jacket was draped lazily across the back of a kitchen chair as the couple shared the first meal of the year together. It was simply over-buttered toast and orange marmalade in combination with coffee that was not in the least conducive to sleeping.Her red lipstick stained the little porcelain cup despite having not reapplied a fresh coat for hours. It was one of the simplest moments that they had shared, nearly platonic where all of the sudden they were just friends again and the conversation flowed with the same ease as it had when they had first met; witty banter and loving teasing without hindrance of fear of what other people thought. For some reason this reminder of those days past made her heart contract with desire for a simpler time when she was not so caught up in the world.

She ached for a past that had long since vanished, one that when looking back seemed simple but it had not been. She desired the past in which she had blindly lived, unaware of the life yet to befall her. The future and days she had experienced since that nieve days were not wholly bad, but they weighed on her in such a way that she did not want the future to hold anything with nearly the same weight.

This thought trickled through her mind but soon fell away as the conversation stilled and the space between them began to decline exponentially. Even after all this time, Roger’s fingertips brushing her hair off her face, just skimming her skin was electric and Lena shivered.

“Cold?” Roger grinned mischievously.

“Mmm, not with you here.”

He chuckled, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her.

With ease that always surprised her despite her small frame, Roger scooped Lena up bridal style, causing her to giggle as he carried her through their home.

Part 16 - 1 January 1977 Letters Between

I love you. I chose wrong in coming here and that choice is only hurting the ones I love most in the world. It breaks my heart to leave, and it may feel like I’m breaking yours but it’s not fair for you to promise me forever and me to not be able to give you the life that forever should hold. You should be able to grow old and watch kids grow up and live your life without my living scared in the shadow of you. I can’t do that. To you or myself.

I really wanted it to be you, I swear to God I did. You were the shot of truth I didn’t know I needed, but everything good must end eventually. Thank you for dancing with me.

Love Always,

Lena

Part 17 - 1 January 1977 Continued: Further Between

She’d shoved a needle through her cartilage to reopen the long closed piercing which she had long since stopped wearing. Scissors went to her hair and too efficiently, like she had done it before, her long locks fell into the sink before her. She gazed at her reflection in the fingerprinted airport mirror, silently trimming a last few pieces of stray strands to their desired length.

Her stomach churned and although she’d eaten only hours before, her body told her she was empty, every bit of energy was gone, a piece of her had suddenly gone missing. She’d removed it. And by her own account. She was nauseous, but only from the position she had placed herself in; hungry for some happiness that didn’t exist; tired but with only slight dark circles, anxiety knotting in her stomach, but her thoughts clear.

Lena watched as her reflection’s glittered and hot tears streamed down her face. As she put the scissors down she noticed her hands were shaking.

“Last call for New York boarding,” a disembodied female voice chimed overhead.

One more glance in the mirror to assure herself that she no longer looked liked Roger Taylor’s long blonde haired girlfriend who currently looked absolutely tragic, she shoved the tissues she’d had out back into her overstuffed bag full of her favorite articles of clothing and her jean jacket that the band had given her. Aside from that there was nothing else, no remainder of Roger. Except of course, she pondered, except for the red leather jacket. That was the one gift with which she could not part.

She reached into the jacket harshly to pull out her boarding pass, hurried now and afraid she’d chicken out and afraid that she wanted to. In doing so she jammed her hand against a slice of cold metal.

She had recalled stowing it there the night before, the little shard of crash symbol. It cut at her hand and heart as she gripped it and she considered dropping it on the bathroom floor, leaving it to vanish into the middle of the soon to be busy airport.

But no, she thought, it will be my little reminder of what I’ve done.

She wanted desperately for the little shard to be poetic as she zipped it safely away in her breast pocket. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was desperately and tragically romantic that she kept the little piece of metal as a symbol of the man she’d just left and that she was saving him from heartache and not being able to give him the life she wanted him to have. Or maybe it was a symbol to the way she had cut his heart out with the dulled edge. Or how it would be so beautiful to have that little piece of him with her always and hold only a fraction of the memories that they’d shared. But more likely it was less than that. Only a piece of metal on a string that would haunt her for decades to come, never regretting her choice, but only the way in which she had chosen to carry it out.

Part 18 - 4 January 1977 - On A Jet Plane

Four days.

Only four days.

Roger slumped alone in the rear of their private jet. The last couple days had been the longest he’d endured in years and they had all been done completely sober. Until now. He rationed that leaving the country as they were forced off to begin rehearsals for their forthcoming tour in the States truly marked the end of hoping she’d return. She would no longer know where he was even if she wanted to. Granted, he didn’t know where she was. He didn’t know if she was okay. He didn’t know if he was okay.

The puffy lipped stewardess too kindly asked him if he needed anything else and he was ripped back to reality, coldly realizing he’d lost her. Lena was gone.

Roger had woken up that morning to an empty bed, cold sheets and a crackling of paper when his arm had reached out to feel for her. He could hear it still, crackling like his heart had as he read the words written there. Unbelief has stunted his walk down to the kitchen where he found her coffee cup, lipstick on the brim. And nothing else. Not her, just a whisper of her, left behind, but untouchable, graceless as it fleeted away. A ghost.

In the following days packing to leave, and not ever return to this house he even had pondered, he had run through dozens upon dozens of memories that played through at little reminders of her scattered throughout the house. The lipstick stained coffee cup remained on the counter, an old Led Zeppelin shirt pulled out from under the bed, the ashtray on the balcony. All little reminders. Reminders that flittered past like a broken record, over and over again as he fell into a fitful sleep.

16 April 1974

He remembered when he had first met her. It was back before Queen had even played that first set on a U.S. stage. He remembered the day well, too well. If he disregarded that she had ever been there, the memory could be held with only excitement. But remembering that she had been there made the memory all the more sweet. Bittersweet.

That night during their set he could not stop thinking about her soft hazel eyes as they had judged him, intaking initial impressions and all the things she had probably heard about him. All of those things she had thought were probably true, but he remembered wanting them desperately not to be. Because this girl, this woman, she was someone who would not be willing to fall for someone like that. Like him.

But later that night she fell into the circle of friendship the four shared, fitting in like the piece of the puzzle he had not known had been missing. Perhaps, he had thought, it was just her uncanny beauty, for she was beautiful in a way that was classic, old fashioned, not of this age. That was for certain a factor when he had danced with her that night. He had wanted so badly to hold her closer, but a seemingly meaningless dance would have to do. He remembered dancing to the sound of his one of his best friend’s voice, spinning around the most gorgeous girl he thought he had ever seen, and had been content. Not just by the gratification of being a rockstar or because she was a pretty girl, but that he had liked the way she grinned with the side of her mouth and the way her smile would fully reach her eyes each every time. Or the way she would constantly allow her fingers to move, as if she was letting them drift through a viscous fluid. Or the way the lights of the bar and the orange of her shirt made her blonde hair appear almost the color of fresh honey.

20 November 1974: Live at the Rainbow

It had been to Roger's immense surprise that Lena had agreed to come back to London with the band, but he could not have been more relieved. He had been trying to configure up some way of not losing this gorgeous woman whom he so liked. But her agreement to come overseas with them left him with a nervous excitement in his stomach. This could potentially mean something. She was leaving what she knew to be with them.

Roger regretted that he did not see her every day, but for the most part he would talk to her every day. He would call and hope she picked up. When she didn't he would take the roundabout way to wherever it was he was going just to be able to slip a note through her letterbox or flowers on her steps. Only the notes he signed, but he hoped that she knew the flowers were from him. When their schedules matched up he would take her on adventures in the city, to all his favorite places and to the places he thought she might like. And he still could not quite determine if he was bold enough to ask her out. Because if he did so, he was afraid he would lose her.

With an internal dialogue raging inside his head, one side arguing for her, the other telling him she would never love someone like him, he threw back a couple shots and ran on to the Rainbow's stage, but not before pausing to squeeze her hand in acknowledgement of where she stood stage side. The whole of the performance he could just see her figure in the shadows, only visible to someone who knew she was there. It was a good night, a good show, something that was likely to be a performance fans remembered for many decades, but he could not focus on that. She was just there, so careless of the fact that he was in love with her. And it was by no means her fault. She was not obligated to love him, he had given her no explicit reasoning to. Because he was still afraid of losing her.

This fixation on whether to tell her he was in love with her or not distracted him the rest of the night, leaving him not caring how he destroyed his drums and even blinded him to the fact that he was treating everyone in vicinity with little respect. He stalked away from the band and her as soon as he could, ignoring Brian’s attempts at convincing him that this was ridiculous and absolutely absurd. But despite his general annoyance at the world, he could not help but feel responsible when Lena lost herself in the sea of groupies as they exited the Rainbow.

Upon arrival at Freddie's party Roger’s mood had not improved and he made a point to disappear from existence as soon as possible in order to further mull his thoughts under the influence of some stronger drink. He stood on the balcony that overlooked Freddie’s immaculate yard and searched for her within the throng of people below. He wasn’t sure what he hoped he would see, perhaps her in the arms of someone else so he could validly convince himself to forget about her? Just hanging at Deaky’s side because she knew few people at this party? In either case, his thoughts were interrupted when a figure stepped out onto the balcony. He whirled violently, but found that it was only her. God, he wanted to kiss her. Even more so when she contentedly ignored the mood that he knew he was displaying. And to his annoyance she weaned out of him the words she had been looking for and he had been so reluctant to say. And then somehow he was kissing her, after so long of hoping such an occurrence might take place. Even the appearance of Deaky and then the rest of the band couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, for she was suddenly his girl.

November 1976

When he found her cleaning up broken glass and shared a glance with John he had known something was seriously wrong. And when he’d found her later that night on the couch with a nearly full bottle of vodka, he felt a twist of fear. He had never seen her like this before, so seemingly broken. He knew it was the alcohol that had caused this state, but what state had she been in to so necessitate drinking so much?

And when she’d drunkenly confessed her fears to him, he found that it wasn’t that he was afraid for himself, he was afraid for her, that she’d lost herself in trying to be all that was expected of her. It was his fault. His fault his fault his fault, pounded through his head as he’d taken her home that night. And he didn’t know what he could do to make it better. He just knew that he didn’t want it to end in losing her.

Roger jolted awake, those words running spirals in his brain.

Lose her lose her losing her lost her

He had lost her. Through it all, he’d lost her and she was gone.

Part 19 - 13 July 1985 - Wembley Stadium

Three weeks ago Lena had opened her mail to find an envelope containing a singular ticket and a messy scrawl of words in handwriting she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

If you’re in London, do stop in at Wembley. Arrive early. And by early I mean give us a ring and we’ll arrange for you to be stage side. Just like the old days.

You don’t have to see him. But you will want to see Bowie.

Please come.

-Fred

And that’s how she found herself calling her boss back to ask if the contract to work the next six months in London was still available. And then contacting Queen and finding herself on the phone with some new assistant who wanted to know how she had gotten this number. Then Freddie’s voice. And it was suddenly all arranged. They had needed an extra couple organizational assistants anyway and her knowledge of show business was a perfect addition. And so she found herself crowded backstage with hundreds of other people hurriedly running this way and that in some hazy chaos.

She had been quietly doing her job, keeping out of the way and attempting not to make contact with anyone she knew, but it was only a matter of time before one of the boys noticed her or one of the other acts recognized her as Roger Taylor’s estranged girlfriend. She was hoping for the former, but had a dreadful feeling that it would be the latter.

Checking one last item off her list and assuring that everyone was situated, queued in the correct places and trying to remind herself that she should not have a freakout moment because she’d just seen the back of Paul McCartney’s head go by, she was stopped by a light hand on her shoulder.

“Miss-”

“Yes,” Lena said, and turned to find herself face to face with a grinning David Bowie, his shirt half unbuttoned and tie haphazardly shoved in his pants pocket.

“Ah, it is you. I thought you wouldn’t show. Freddie was just wondering if you were here.”

“Oh?” Lena responded, suddenly slightly dazed that David Bowie actually knew who she was.

“I’m David-”

Lena laughed, “Of course I know! We’ve met before, but that was nearly ten years ago at a birthday party at Fred’s house in London.”

“I wish I could say I remember that. I certainly do remember Fred asking me to come, but the night itself I don’t recall.”

“I don’t blame you. It was the seventies afterall.”

“You say that with such blatant nostalgia,” he said, taking her arm and gently leading her in the direction of where she knew Queen resided.

“Why else would I be here other than such nostalgia for a time when my life revolved around nothing but music.”

“For perhaps some beloved friends?”

“And they are the heart of that music, wouldn’t you say?” she ended as Bowie gave a small tap on the door of the trailer.

The door swung open to reveal Freddie, looking sharp as ever, but distinctly different from how the seventies had rendered him; cropped hair and mustache now drove his iconic appearance, the exuberant energy still radiating from his features.

“David how nice of you to drop by-” his eyes shifted to Lena, widening in excitement, “Lena darling! I’m so absolutely delighted that you were able to make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled as she was enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

“Lads you won’t believe who it is,” Freddie started, moving away from the door to reveal the rest of the band sitting beyond.

Lena shot Freddie a look in annoyance that he hadn’t seemed to in the slightest enlightened them that she was to be there. Especially Roger. Whom she had not really wanted to see anyway. But when she locked eyes with him in that moment and her stomach flipped she found herself knowing she had never stopped loving him, not for one second. It was a dull love now, something distant, to be fondly remembered, but it was there nevertheless. This was the first time seeing him face to face since she had gone. There had been three letters and two phone calls between them to cover loose ends, but those had been kept professional, as if on business. Eight years later seeing herself reflected in those blue eyes again her heart fluttered even as her brain told her it was over.

There was a distinct momentary silence before David excused himself and Brian gave a small cough and they greeted her like old times. After hugs all around, even to Roger, they almost magically fell back into old rhythms of conversation that had long since been silenced.

When it came time for the band to head toward the stage, the crowd roared and there was a small split second in which Roger and Lena were alone, as the band turned a corner and they were momentarily blocked from the others as someone rolled an amp past.

“Rog I-”

“Lena, no apologies. Whatever you’re going to say, that was a long time ago. Can we just be friends now and forget anything ever happened between us?”

The question surprised her, causing her to think that maybe Freddie had told him she was going to be there and he’d been putting a lot of thought into them.

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to think I forgot us. But I don’t want the future to be defined by all that shattered in the past.”

Lena smiled at him warmly, “Okay Mr. Taylor. I have arrived as Miss Lierens, properly positioned in friendzone but having always loved you.”

“Pinky promise me?” he said reaching out his hand.

Lena laughed, shaking on it, “Pinky promise.”

Those beginning chords of Bohemian Rhapsody, to hear them played live again, to hear the crowd sing with Freddie again, his voice echoing across decades, was unearthly as Lena stood in the wings watching. The waving, flowing mass of people beyond the stage, nearly unimaginable as they dropped into Radio Gaga, complimented them with an even louder cheer. The crowd was clapping along like she had heard a hundred times before but this time to a worldwide audience, one that would likely remember this day for decades to come.

Every moment she had seen before, but today it was on a new level of magical, the things she remembered so fondly; the sheer energy of the moment, caught by camera glares and the boys having the absolute time of their lives. Hammer To Fall’s intro riff continued the magic, and the “ready Freddie” in Crazy Little Thing, it was all the joy in life she’d nearly forgotten existed.

That was only followed by their bounding off stage and Bowie striding on shortly after, sending Lena a wink as he went past.

Never having seen Bowie perform in person, she found he held the stage differently but equally powerfully, powder blue suit glowing, shirt now buttoned up professionally. As soon as it had begun, it was ending, with Lena giggling at the multitude of exuberant tambourine shaking in the midst of a historical moment. Later, looking mildly like he’d recently risen from the grave, yet donned in sparkles, Elton John played Rocket Man at the big white grand piano that took up the stage, and by the end of his set, darkness had begun to fall on the city.

As the second to last song began, the band joined her in the wings, Brian on her left, arm stewn over her shoulders, Freddie on her right, his other arm across Roger’s shoulders, and Deaky on the end, all swaying back and forth as music greats sang Let It Be, the stage doused in pink dreamlight.

Setlist

Ghost of You - 5SOS

All The Young Dudes - Mott The Hoople

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square - Vera Lynn

Love Of My Life - Queen

Time Stands Still - The Hooters

‘39 - Queen

Something - The Beatles

You and I - Queen

Pink Motel - The Glorious Sons

Keep Yourself Alive (Live at the Rainbow ‘74) - Queen