I was a little nervous about falling asleep on the plane; I have a tendency to talk in my sleep, and I didn't want first class (or more specifically, Freddie) to know I had lustful, magenta dreams every night.  I thought maybe if I had my music softly humming into my ear, I might distract my brain from that same old earthquake.  It seemed to work; for the few hours I spent unconscious I dreamed no dreams.  That I can remember, anyway.

It was music that awakened me as well- but a different kind.  Someone was softly singing a cappella to themselves.  And it was a song nobody in 1977 should have known. 

"Dah de dah, spending ev-er-y daaay, dah dah di dah dah in the pouring rain..."

Before I even opened my eyes I reached for my Android at my side.  It was gone.  I looked, now wide awake.  Oh, there it is. 

It was in Freddie's hand, one of the earbuds nestled in his right ear, as he held the Android's LED flashlight over his sketching paper (Where'd he get that anyway?  Did he make a stop somewhere at an art store in Vegas?  Who knows) and the screen facing him showed a Matisse-inspired image of a Lady Godiva figure holding a Pandora's box, under which read the words "Maroon 5: She Will Be Loved."

I freaked.

"HEY!" I whisper-shouted.  There were other people sleeping after all.

Freddie glanced at me.  He blinked once, then his face split into a nonchalant grin- almost too nonchalant.  "Good morning."

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.

He looked blank.  "I'm working." 

"How'd you hack into-"

"The password, of course."

"I never told you the password!"

"Oh but you did, unintentionally.  I'm not a complete dunce, you know."

When I reached for the phone, he held his hand out into the aisle.  "Darling, where are your manners?"

So we've gone from "too polite" to "where are your manners."  This man, I swear.  "Will you kindly hand that Magic Mirror of mine back to me?"

"Only if you show me where the camera is."

My insides writhed.  "What all have you seen?"

"Not too much, just the music, really, and that speech bubble thing at the bottom."

"You went through my texts?" I tried not to scream.  I didn't send anything via text I wouldn't want serving as a New York Times headline, but I still couldn't believe Freddie had been so blatantly inconsiderate.  I thought he was better than this.

"Not really, I left it alone, I just tapped it and a bunch of numbers appeared.  Looked a bit unexciting so I didn't stay there.  Most everything else didn't work.  I tried opening up this thing called In-sta-grahm, but it couldn't, said it wasn't connected to Wee-Fee."

"You mean, Wi-Fi?"

"I'll say it however I like, Miss Har-Lee-Quin.  How do I, um- connect it?"

"You can't.  There's no Wi-Fi here."

"What is Wi-Fi anyway?"

"I'll tell you when you're older.  Please give it back."

"What are you so worried about?"  Freddie's eyes gleamed.  "What dirty little secrets have you hoarded up in here?"

"Nothing."

"I mean, besides those soft porn songs you've got-"

"Soft porn?"

"I Want Your Sex?  Really, dear? Is that, um, standard bill of fare for the Choir Invisible?"

My cheeks burned.  "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied lamely.

Freddie held up his finger at me, and paused the music.  I watched him skillfully navigate my Amazon downloads, thankful that whatever Queen I had stored on my phone was tucked away in the general Music folder.  It would seem he hadn't found that yet.  I had all my Queen and Freddie Mercury tracks downloaded long before I'd installed the Amazon app, which contained mostly random songs that struck my fancy. 

And wasn't it just my luck that the most beautiful, most talented, and most wonderful man I had ever had the privilege to be near, had hacked into my phone and listened to one of my other guilty pleasures, "I Want Your Sex" by the late great George Michael, with an oily grin upon his lips, as I became that much less innocent and that much more common, in his eyes.  "I Want Your Sex", of course, wasn't even all that graphic by comparison with some of the stuff I've heard on the radio lately, but Freddie was looking for anything, and he'd struck gold.

He turned it on and smiled.  It was the smugness of that smile that put me over the edge.  I forgot to be a good sport this time around.  I was still tired, and therefore my filter was nonexistent.  My now very red face hardened.

"Please give it back," I said through gritted teeth.

Freddie looked me over and did so at last.  Quickly I turned off the music, yanked the earbud out his ear and tucked both my phone and my journal back into my bag.  

"Aren't you going to show me the camera?" he said softly- rather cautiously, in fact.

"I'm not showing you anything else," I hissed.

Freddie sighed, "Oh, Evie, really-"

"I said I would show you how that thing works in my own time, but apparently my own time isn't worth the waiting for so you do it yourself.  And most of the time it's not so bad, but for God's sake, Freddie!"

"I didn't mean to embarrass you-"

"Oh, sure, that's why you decided you'd show me what juicy little items you discovered, something else to hold over my head as evidence against my goody-goody uptight character.  I hope you're glad you found it, I hope it proved what you wanted it to prove.  Good God."

Still fuming, I folded my arms and stared out the window.  Leave it to Freddie to push the envelope.  So much for my privacy about anything. 

Freddie shook his head.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a finger reach over and tap my knee.  Slowly I turned to face him again.  To my surprise, contrition filled his dark eyes.  It was so hard to be mad and look him in the eyes when that vulnerable glow lit them.

"Angel, I swear I didn't intend to upset you," he whispered.  "I don't know what that was.  You -you just caught me off guard and I acted rashly.  I'm sorry."

I sighed.  Already I felt a little mean for speaking so sharply to him, and now I wanted to apologize. Anyway, how is this any different from me scouring books and web pages for any and all sordid details about his private life?  Do I really have any right to get upset about this?  I'm just as guilty as he- perhaps even more so.

"I told you I'd show you when I was ready," I whispered.  "Can you at least attempt to be patient?"

Freddie began to say, "I have been very pat-"

"What?"

"Never mind.  Just please don't be angry with me.  We've had a wonderfully productive couple of days, and I don't want them to end in a fight."

"Productive?"

"Weren't they? Look at all we accomplished: we smuggled you into another country, we saw a ridiculous film-"

"I thought you enjoyed it!"

"Oh I did, but it was still ridiculous.  And uh, we almost died in a plane crash, we faked a marriage license, and tomorrow we are going to make Roger look very silly once he lays eyes on it."

I laughed, forgetting he'd shamelessly gone through some very private stuff.  "Don't forget, you also opened for Tom Jones- and had a fake Passport made."

"Oh yes," Freddie nodded with a little chuckle.  "My God.  You know, honestly, I don't know how we haven't been caught yet.  We keep, you know, just pushing it further and further."

"You're magic," I said simply.  "But we can't take advantage of karma just yet, anything can happen.  The hardest part is going to be not talking about it."

"Not for me," he replied.  "I keep secrets better than anyone."

"That, you do," I quipped.  "Mission Implausible.  Perhaps the greatest heist the world will never know."

"We know," Freddie corrected me.  "Me and you.  And Rudy of course.  And Sharon and the other ladies know about half the story.  And that's world enough."

"You think you'll ever tell Roger?"

"I don't know.  Probably not.  He's my friend, you know, and we've made friendly bets often enough, but I think he just went a little overboard on this one."

I stared at Freddie.  "He did?"

"Of course."

"Freddie, Roger probably doesn't even care-"

"But I do.  Are you going to show me that camera now?"

"Only if you show me what you were drawing."

"Done," he agreed.  "I was going to show you anyway.  Here."

Freddie shuffled the stack of loose papers together and passed them to me.  He then asked me my opinion, my honest opinion.

"What do you think of that one?" he said, pointing at a very short, sleeveless little one piece that looked tight even without a man inside it to prove how tight.

"It's so naughty," I murmured with a smile.

"That's the intent, my dear," Freddie simpered.  

"What color were you thinking?"

"I don't know.  I usually go for black or white with these things, but I might want to step beyond that, try something new.  It's just an idea.  It's the other one I really like.  The one underneath it."

I tucked the top drawing under the bottom and looked at the second one.  He explained, "Now, this one, I was thinking, again, with the colors and things, maybe a black and white kind of diamond pattern, or maybe some sort of multi-colored kind of motley, with red and green, I don't know for certain.  Kind of a court jester sort of look." Freddie shot me a sidelong glance.  "A harlequin, so to speak."

I nodded, then did a double take.  "Harlequin?" I whispered, pronouncing it correctly.

"By George, she's got it!" Freddie sang.

"No, no, seriously.  Did you- did you just think this up?"

Freddie blinked.  "Yes, while you were asleep."

"So," I said slowly, "you didn't have this in mind before?"

"Can you blame me?  All this talk about harlequins and Harley Quinns, it got me thinking."

I gaped at the picture.  My stomach was doing cartwheels.  This was a costume he wore at numerous concerts during the News of the World tour.  It was one of his most famous.  Surely he would have thought of this without me saying anything.  Surely I've had nothing to do with it.  That would be impossible. 

Freddie looked at my expression.  "You don't like it?"

"Oh, Freddie, don't be silly, it's brilliant," I managed.  "I love it."

"You don't sound like you love it."

"But I do.  What shoes would you wear with this, though?"

"Ballet slippers, of course."

"Of course," I laughed.  "All you're doing is proving his point, you know."

"Whose?"

"Sid Vicious."

"Oh, that little unwashed scamp?  Be serious.  I'm not proving his point, I'm proving mine.  Ballet for the masses and all that."

"Well, if that's your point, then good.  I think you'd look fabulous in it myself- drive everyone mad for you."

Freddie swept his hands in the air.  "But I already do."

"One second," I said.  I had to make sure of something; I pulled out my phone again and swiped right to my Music file- the general one, not the one Freddie had rummaged through. 

He looked over my shoulder as I did this.  "Hey, I didn't know you could do that."

"What?" I asked.

"This."  Freddie made the sideswipe motion with his finger.  "There's more that way?"

"Yes, and it's stuff you are not allowed to see," I said, lifting the small stack out of my lap, "so take these and give me one second and I'll show you the camera."

I sifted through the Music, expecting to see a change- any kind of change at all.  But nothing had.  The Queen songs were still there, all of them.  Nothing was out of place.  I checked the Gallery too.  I didn't have many pictures of him, as I relied on social media feeds for that.  But thoise that I did have downloaded were all there.  Everything was the same.

Maybe Robert Zemeckis was wrong.  Things never happen like they do in the films.  I got here without a flux compacitor, or whatever, and I wasn't moving 88 miles per hour.  The guy did Who Framed Roger Rabbit, for crying out loud.  He doesn't know everything. 

Maybe I've just gotten trapped in a parallel universe, or- maybe everything changes when I get back- if I get back.  That reminds me, I need to find a job-

"Are you here, dear?"  Freddie interrupted my thoughts.

"Oh, yes, sorry, I'm awake," I said quickly.  I tapped my way to the camera and showed him what to do. 

(And if you want to see the rest of this scene, let me know, and I might put together an outside piece extending this and the Magic Mirror sequence.  But only if you're interested.  Otherwise, we shall continue...)

*******************************************************************************************

The windows of the car were wide open, and Freddie had his hand stuck out the window.  I could only look on and smile. 

At the London airport he had made a phone call to Liza, a much longer one than those he'd made at JFK.  From what I could tell, Liza wasn't too happy at being ignored, and was making sure Freddie knew about it.  When he finally hung up the phone, he looked a little down, almost guilty.  This mood shift had carried through into Freddie's car and part of the way home.  It was a quarter past two already, yet it felt like it shouldn't have been any time past nine in the morning.

Time zones, jet lag, and Roger when he sings: these are a few of my least favorite things.  (I apologize, I just have The Sound of Music on the brain...)

"Oh, that's right, it's Sunday," Freddie remarked suddenly.  "Nice.  I don't have to be me till tomorrow."

There he goes again, with the cryptic little comments.

"Why wouldn't you want to be you?" I asked casually.  "You seem nice enough."

Freddie looked into my eyes.  "Would you want to be me?"

"That's different."

"No, darling, it really isn't."

"I don't really think about it like that.  I'm content to be myself."

"Mm.  Must be nice."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know.  I just feel a little odd at the moment."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's really nothing- nothing new, that is."

"Liza?"

"It's in that, um- it's in that area.  I'm all right, genuinely.  He'll get over it."

"Liza's a he?"

Freddie's eyes widened a bit, as thought he realized he'd just given too much away.  But  immediately after his face relaxed again.  "Uh, yeah.  Liza's a man."

I wasn't surprised to hear that.  But something in his voice kept me from asking any more questions.  Freddie and his moods- they were enough to make a girl go grey.  I just wanted him to feel better, but I didn't quite know how to go about it.

I was sitting next to the most complicated man who ever lived.  Even now, he was such a mystery.  Was that his charm- this cloud of enigma he chose to cast over himself?  That distance I was learning to hate- was that the appeal?  Or was it merely a defense mechanism, protection against the pain of heartbreak?  All the days I'd spent with him, and I was still no closer to finding the answer.

I looked at him, studying his face, and murmured, "I wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"I wonder what really goes on in that clever brain- what thoughts fly back and forth behind those beautiful eyes of yours."

Freddie blushed -he actually blushed- and looked down, grinning shyly.  A moment later he glanced back up.

"Why don't you ask me what I'm thinking?" he whispered, leaning in.

My brow arched.  "Will you tell me?"

"All you have to do is ask."

"Maybe I will- later," I whispered, "when we're alone."

"Tonight?" he purred.

"Maybe."

"Yes or no.  There is no maybe."  As I opened my mouth he added, "There's no no, either."

I smiled.  What a silly man.  "Then I guess, yes."

It was at that moment that Rudy, in a fit of uncharacteristic impishness, turned up the radio at full blast.  Electric Light Orchestra's "Do Ya" had just started- a fairly new song at the time.  Apparently Rudy didn't have to be the stalwart cone of silence till Monday either.  Our eardrums practically burst with the overdriven guitars.

But instead of getting miffed, Freddie laughed, "Oh, keep it there, darling, we're not home yet!"

And for four more sweet minutes, we were two of seven international con artists taking on Las Vegas with the help of Tom Jones and a stoner chauffeur.  Freddie and I sang at the top of our lungs, trading song lines, and generally just being obnoxious. 

Even after the song had ended, Freddie was still talking music industry language, already getting back in the swing of work.  "You know, they wouldn't be anything as big as they are if it wasn't for their producer, that guy's a genius.  What's his name again?"

"How should I know?"

"Oh, yes, that's right, you are the rock and roll ignoramus."

I pushed him playfully, and he pushed back, and we were still gently tussling when we pulled up to his Kensington flat.  Rudy grabbed our suitcase and we piled out of the car, feeling tired but happy.  What a wonderful friend to have.  Crazy, and volatile- but completely marvelous.

"I," I announced, "am going to have a nap and then, I'm going to church, there has to be some kind of Mass or service happening somewhere, and I'm going to go job-hunting.  See who's hiring.  And then I'm going back to sleep.  What are you going to do?"

Freddie smirked.  "You, if you'll let me."

I rolled my eyes.  "Geez.  I walked into that one, didn't I?"

We were about to stroll in when Freddie abruptly put the star-shaped glasses back on and slapped my hand as it reached to poke the key into the lock.

"Darling, you just got married," Freddie scolded me. 

I blinked.  "So you slapped my hand?"

"So, someone needs to carry you over the threshold."

I smiled and put my arms out to Rudy.  "Come on, then, I don't weigh much."

"Not Rudy!" Freddie exclaimed.  "You didn't marry him!"

"I didn't marry you, either," I declared.  "So, since that elusive Mark is not here, and I am exclusively in the company of good friends, I will only accept a piggy back ride."

Freddie then proceeded to open the door and let it swing open.  He turned his back to me and leaned forward.  "All right, angel.  All aboard."

So I jumped onto his back.  "Oof!  Right, let's go.  One, two, three!"  And with that, Freddie marched into the flat with me latched on from behind, his hands under my knees, keeping us steady.  Rudy followed.

Oscar sat up on the sofa and saw us.  Immediately, like a little green-eyed lapdog, he hopped down and strolled right underfoot.  Tiffany and Tom were right behind.  They loved their daddy so much.  This would have been sweet and cute, except all three of them were trying to rub against his legs at once, and he was already top-heavy.  Freddie lost his balance.

Freddie cried out, and we toppled to the floor.  The cats got up in our faces, circled us as if to make sure we were okay.  And we were.  I'd never laughed so hard in my life.

"Oh," I sighed at last, rolling onto my back, "it's good to be home."

Freddie's chuckles calmed down a bit. He sat up and leaned over me.  "Home, eh?"

"Well, I mean, temporary home, of course."

He smiled, and looked