Reaching for the Sky

_________"We're gonna stay together until we fucking well die,
_________I'm sure we will. I keep wanting to leave, but they won't let me!"
_________________----Freddie Mercury [on Queen.]

The weather was bleak outside, the rain belting down on the pavement, people running for cover in front of shop windows, some not even bothering to get out of the torrential downpour. It wasn't much better inside, either. It was dark and dreary inside -metaphorically, of course. The weather as well as the weekly outlook was bleak.

Freddie started humming We Are the Champions quietly, watching the rain fall across the window panes next to his bed. He always was a cocky bastard. At least in the presence of the public.

"Would you like a drink?" Jim Hutton asked him quietly, clutching onto his hand with both of his own. It was coming. It was coming. "I could go make you some tea or something?" Pathetic. It's not something you can cure with a good cup of English Breakfast tea.

Freddie shook his head and started humming a little louder.

"Would you like me to go and call Mary? I'm sure you want her here…You've been looking gaunt for weeks, love. You need to-"

"I don't need to do shit, Jim. I'll chose who I call, and I'll make my own fucking tea." He made to sit up, but eventually slumped back against the pillows, a bitter scowl on his face. He wouldn't admit defeat though -oh no. "I want to make a statement," he said after another few moments, back to staring out the window, his eyes fishing out the patch of blue in the sea of gray and black. "You know the phone call this morning? The one you tried to hide from me? Who was it -call them back."

"You're in no state-"

He glowered the way of Jim and picked his head up, ready to chew him out if he needed. People wanted gossip, and he could have them talking for weeks. Months, even. "Call them."

Jim got up and left the room, heading down the hallway to the kitchen where the phone was. Freddie could hear all of the conversation. Even in his sickness, his ears were as good as ever. There was little argument. Just scheduling a time that would be good for both parties. Ha, party indeed.

Freddie rolled his eyes at about the same time as the phone slammed down, but Jim didn't return to the room for another few minutes. And when he did, he was carrying a cup of tea. "And I called Mary. I mean, just think about it. How do you think she'll feel if she found out on the news?"

He rolled his eyes, but he had to agree. He'd tell her before he made his statement. "I still don't want your fucking tea."

x x x

The press flooded into the room like the levies had broken. There were no levies, but you get the idea. Freddie smiled slightly at that; he had to admit, he had a pretty funny mind. He could and would, Jim thought, say something entirely stupid right now. He could tell all of the press -the forty or so that were there, that he liked ice-cream and hated tea, and let them be on their merry way.

He'd already told Mary, and she was outside in the sitting room, away from the prying eyes of the press, sobbing her poor little heart out. She loved the man, and he was...Oh, she couldn't even bring her mind's mouth to utter the horrid words.

Freddie took a deep breath, the room feeling quite stuffy all of a sudden. This almost seemed impossible, now that he was actually getting around to it. "Following the enormous conjecture in the press over the last two weeks," he started, picking his next words wisely. Somehow he thought that "I'm a flaming homo and I have AIDS," wouldn't go over too well.

"I wish to confirm that I have been tested HIV positive and have AIDS," he continued, much to the shock of almost everyone in the room. Anything but AIDS, one red-head woman thought, her mind whizzing at seventeen thousand miles per hour.

"I felt it correct to keep this information private to date to protect the privacy of those around me. However, the time has come now for my friends and fans around the world to know the truth, and I hope that everyone will join with my doctors and all those worldwide in the fight against this terrible disease. My privacy has always been very special to me and I am famous for my lack of interviews. Please understand this policy will continue…" he finally finished his speech, after what seemed to be like hours to everyone.

Now the big fat elephant in the room deflated, he could see that quite a few of the reporters, men and women alike, were crying. Crying over him. That made an enormous amount of pride and guilt swell in his chest.

He announced quietly that he was tired and rolled over to face the wall again, wiping the stray tear that fell across his cheek away before anyone noticed that Freddie Mercury was crying. That was a scoop on its own.

The press quietly shuffled out after taking the photo's they wanted, and left the house, leaving the place seem cold and empty. No, wait, it felt like that even when they were there. Jim came back into the room with his arm wrapped around Mary's shoulders. Freddie heard them but didn't bother to address them, or even acknowledge their presence.

He was back to watching the rain.

x x x

"He looks worse," Mary noted quietly, watching her love from the doorway. It was the next morning and the sun was shining, but true to predictions, the weather inside was still terrible; dark and dreary and cold and horrible. It'd been eleven hours since his confession to the press and the phone had been ringing to much that Jim just yanked the cord out of the wall and cursed at it a few times.

The morning paper was sitting on the table in the kitchen, still rolled up. The three knew what the front page would say anyway, so it was a waste of time and energy unrolling it.

"He does," Jim said after another few moments, before taking a plate filled with food and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in and setting it on his nightstand. "Love- love, you have to eat," he said softly, shaking Freddie's shoulder. Oh, he worried. He was paler than yesterday, which was paler than the day before, and the day before that, too.

"'m not hungry," he muttered, looking up at the roof. "Just leave it there."

Mary bit her lip and stepped into the room properly, perching on the edge of the bed. "You have to eat, honey. You're so pale." She reached forward and touched her hand to his forehead. "You're all cold..."

"Don't feel cold." He shut his eyes for a moment, the bright light flooding through the windows hurting them. "Just wanna sleep for a while."

Mary knew what that meant..."No, Freddie, no, you have to stay awake. Hear?" She didn't order Jim to go ring an ambulance because she knew it was hopeless and Jim knew it too. "I just want you to stay awake a little while longer." Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as he muttered a, 'no, wanna sleep.'

"C'mon stay awake," she said urgently, shaking his shoulder. "Awake, awake, awake." Jim took her hand off his shoulder and shook his head, signaling her to leave it. Freddie's mouth popped open and the sound of his breaths filled the air, for a few moments, before they began to become shallow and labored.

Mary bit her lip as he faded away, right on front of her. She could taste the blood in her mouth, but she didn't let up her vice-like grip. "No, no. Fucking no!" she yelled, as finally, his breathing stopped. Jim calmly grabbed the hysterical Mary around the middle and pulled her out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

And it was just like that that Freddie Mercury joined the masses of rock stars that died before their time.

_________“There was all that time when we knew
_________Freddie was on the way out, we kept our heads down.”
__________________—-Brian May