Chapter Text
“Now we're back to the beginning; it's just a feeling and no one knows yet. But just because they can't feel it too doesn't mean that you have to forget. Let your memories grow stronger and stronger, 'til they're before your eyes. You'll come back when they call you, no need to say goodbye.” -The Call, Regina Spektor
When Theo had been born, Freddie and the boys made sure to leak a false release date to the press, allowing him to return home in peace. This time they weren’t sure the press would fall for it again.
They released three fake dates instead.
Freddie, being pushed to the car in a wheelchair, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no reporters lingering nearby. Maeve was asleep in his arms, Theo walked in step with the wheelchair, babbling about the “surprise” feast Joe was cooking back at Garden Lodge. Freddie didn’t have the heart to admit his appetite wasn’t up to much- besides, he knew he should eat, in fact he needed to if he stood any chance of looking after his children, let alone feed his baby into the bargain.
And, typically, Roger was standing by the car, ready to drive them all home. He wouldn’t hear of it when Jim said he’d do the driving. He insisted he wanted to help out; no one was going to say no to an extra pair of hands on what promised to be a tiring day.
“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked with a grin, twirling his keys.
“Let’s do it,” Freddie said.
Really, the homecoming was exactly what Roger expected: Phoebe nearly cried as he hugged Freddie, careful not to crush Maeve. He could smell the ridiculous amount of food Joe was cooking- there was sweet smells and savory smells and who-even-knew-what coming from the kitchen. Theo was nearly bouncing in glee; when Freddie asked if he wanted to hold Maeve the kid damn near lit up.
And, okay, watching them together was precious. Theo rocked Maeve gently, grinning down at her; wide awake now she stared at him solemnly, occasionally making funny little snuffling noises. Roger couldn’t help but grin at the sight.
He glanced down at Freddie; his best friend’s eyes were glued to his children. For the first time since he’d woken up, Freddie appeared totally relaxed. There was a gentle smile on his face and his eyes appeared suspiciously wet; he blinked hard and the tears didn’t fall, though the same couldn’t be said for Phoebe- he was wiping at his eyes and cheeks ineffectively.
“Well,” Freddie said before the silence could stretch on for too long. “First thing’s first, I need a bath, I look awful.”
“You’re beautiful,” was the automatic response from Jim, Roger, Joe and Phoebe, along with Theo’s “No you don’t!”
Roger looked around at the others and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing; Joe grinned sheepishly, Theo snickered whereas Phoebe and Jim seemed determined to stand by what they said.
“You’re all impossible,” Freddie said and Roger bent to help him up.
Freddie immediately eyed him suspiciously. “Rog,” he began warningly- and Roger ignored him, scooping Freddie straight up into his arms, ignoring Freddie’s indignant shriek and Theo’s laughter.
“'Cause he's stronger than you know; a heart of steel starts to grow. When you've been fighting for it all your life, you've been struggling to make things right, that's how a superhero learns to fly. Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power.” -Superheroes, The Script
The water was so hot that the mirror and windows fogged up in seconds, but it soothed a lot of his aches and Freddie lay back, eyes closed, thankful to be out of that damn hospital and back in the comfort of his own home. No more lingering hospital smell, no more hovering doctors, no more restrictions on who could visit and when; he could finally sleep in his own bed with his husband again, he was surrounded by his family again and, why deny it, he’d missed his cats too.
Finally having a proper bath was just the tip of the iceberg really, but it had been high on his list for a reason; he felt grungy, all sweaty and exhausted and sore. Being stuck in hospital hadn’t helped with that. But his gigantic marble tub? The steaming water and scented oils? The sight alone made him feel better.
“Alright, Fred?” Roger poked his head around the door, a fluffy white towel, and Freddie’s favourite dressing gown, in his arms.
“Feeling better already, darling,” Freddie assured him with a smile- a smile that Roger easily returned as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. He set the towel to heat up on the radiator, hung the dressing gown on the door and sat on the edge of the bath, kicking his feet.
“...You really scared me,” he admitted quietly. “That...Fuck, that felt worse than last time somehow. I...I was there and I couldn’t do anything.”
“No one could, Roggie,” Freddie said.
“I know that, I do, I just…” Roger let out a hysterical little laugh. “I can’t let you out of my sight, huh?”
Freddie looked at him carefully; his blonde hair was in tangles, there were shadows under his eyes; he looked worn out and yet he also looked as stubbornly determined as ever.
Sighing, smiling, Freddie grabbed his hand.
“I’ve an idea, darling.”
“Hm?”
“I say screw that whole ‘ Alpha protecting the Omega’ rubbish. We’re best friends. You look after me all the time, you’ve protected me for years. How about we just agree to look after each other instead?”
Roger stared at him, surprised or happy or upset, Freddie couldn’t quite tell. He kept a firm grip on Roger’s hand; slowly, steadily, Roger relaxed, smiling again.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding choked up. “Sounds good to me.”
Freddie couldn’t hold his grin back.
“Love you, Roggie.”
“Love you too, Fred.”
At least that was one problem solved, Freddie thought. Maybe Roger would finally relax a little. He knew old habits wouldn’t change overnight, but it was an acknowledgment, it was a start.
Roger had always, always done his best to look after Freddie. He’d admitted to Freddie’s face, more than once, that he felt like he was doing a shit job.
Freddie had never seen it that way. Roger was, hand on heart, the first person to really make him feel safe in England, completely and utterly. This was someone he knew he could trust, no matter what. This was one of the first people to see Freddie as an equal; this was one of the first people who wanted to help him without expecting some reward in return.
This man had nearly punched Ray Foster for him; this man had hit people in defence of him; he’d snapped at reporters and interviewers to show some respect, he’d held a knife to Paul Prenter’s neck and to this day Freddie didn’t doubt that Roger would have done it, if they hadn’t stopped him.
Roger Taylor was, plain and simple, his best friend. He had a way of reminding Freddie to be brave no matter what.
“Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you. Long, long live the walls we crashed through. All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. And I was screaming, “long live all the magic we made,” and bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid.” -Long Live, Taylor Swift
Maybe it was daft for Roger to want to cry, but hearing Freddie say that? It made his eyes water and for a moment it was a struggle to keep his cool.
“Love you, Roggie,” Freddie said with that sweet and shy smile, that smile that had never changed over the years.
“Love you too, Fred,” Roger said and he did, oh God he did, he loved that dramatic, shy, loving, childish little thing so much it hurt. Freddie was his best friend and sometimes it felt like promising to protect him was the first good thing Roger had done; after years of feeling like a fuck up, after years of temper tantrums and general angst (teenage and otherwise), promising to look after his best friend had felt like a turning point. It was, other than music, something good to focus his energy on.
A lot of the time, he felt like he had failed; that damn 1973 nude photoshoot, Ridge Farm, the trial, the dangerous births of Theo and Maeve and the countless times someone had treated Freddie like dirt, like a brainless sex toy...But apparently, to Freddie, none of that mattered. None of that counted.
He thought Roger had succeeded.
So maybe it wasn’t dumb to feel like crying after all.
Sudden laughter bubbled in his chest and he flung his arms around Freddie, holding on tight, burying his face in Freddie’s hair. He nearly fell into the huge tub; water splashed on him and hugging Freddie only succeeded in soaking his shirt, but he barely noticed.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you so much, you have no idea.”
Freddie’s wet arms wrapped around him and he could practically feel Freddie’s smile.
“I have an idea, darling.”
One year later…
“Went low, went high, what matters is now; getting right back in the mood. I live my day as if it was the last, live my day as if there was no past. Doin' it all night, all summer, doin' it the way I wanna. Yeah, I'mma dance my heart out 'til the dawn, but I won't be done when morning comes. Doin' it all night, all summer. Gonna spend it like no other.” -Lush Life,
Zara Larsson
Well, Theo was dead. After all the bullshit he’d pulled over the years, this was it: his Papa was finally going to kill him.
They’d lost Maeve. To be precise, they’d lost her backstage at a Queen concert. He’d turned his back for one minute to talk to Robert, Jim had turned to look for Maeve’s juice in her baby bag and the next thing they knew, she was gone.
And if this didn’t just sum up Theo’s life he didn’t know what did.
He ran around frantically backstage with Jim. Ronnie, Dom, and Anita, along with any of the other kids old enough to help look were also rushing around; even Miami, who Theo always thought was utterly unflappable was...well, pretty flapped. He even ran. It shot up the list of Most Bizarre Sights Of Theo’s Life.
It was getting to the point where Theo wanted to just sit down and cry because he’d lost his baby sister, damn it.
Well, they may have lost Maeve, but she found Freddie.
He had just run into the wings ahead of Jim when he heard the crowd start to scream. And sure enough, crawling across the stage was-
“MAEVE!” Theo yelled and Jim groaned in horror. The band stopped dead, staring at the baby making her way to them. She crawled like a woman on a mission, grinning at Freddie.
And then Maeve successfully won the title of most dramatic member of the family: she stopped crawling. She pouted, wriggling in place...and pushed herself shakily to her feet. She wobbled precariously, still pouting, as though testing her balance. Apparently satisfied, she smiled again and took one wobbly step- and another. And another. Slowly, shakily, she took her first steps, walking to Freddie across the stage for hundreds of people to see.
“Holy shit, ” Theo gasped. For once Jim didn’t tell him off. Every single stage hand was gawping; he knew when the others arrived because he heard Anita gasp.
Maeve didn’t seem to notice the crowd; she only had eyes for Freddie. She made grabby hands just like Theo used to do, crying “Papa!” happily as she walked.
Freddie ran to her, dropping to his knees to scoop her up in his arms when he reached her.
“Papa!” Maeve said again, close enough to Freddie’s mic that the whole concert hall heard it. Theo pushed past the stage hands and ran to his Papa and sister; his hair slipped free of it’s ponytail as he ran, bouncing about his shoulders. Jim was just behind him, already frantically apologising.
“Oh shut up, darling, she’s walking! ” Freddie said with glee, though if Theo knew his Papa at all there’d be hell to pay later. Still, he’d take whatever respite he could.
Freddie was beaming when he stood to hand Maeve to Jim; he hugged Theo tightly and it was still insane to Theo that he was actually a little taller than Freddie now.
“Sorry, Papa,” he mumbled.
“Oh, it’s not your ass I’ll be kicking, darling,” Freddie grinned. Theo grinned right back, turning to poke Maeve on the nose. His little sister shrieked delightedly, clapping her hands. She continued to clap as they fled back stage, oblivious to the trouble and drama she’d caused.
“She’s Freddie’s alright,” Aunt Veronica laughed, just as Freddie addressed the crowd; “Well with dramatics like those we can safely say she’s mine, huh darlings?”
Theo threw his head back and laughed.
His family, he’d long since realised, were insane. Completely and utterly mad. Not a day went by without some sort of drama. Someone was always arguing or doing something daft- Theo himself being a chief instigator.
His family wasn’t perfect. No family was perfect. There were still days, or even entire weeks, where Theo cut himself off; he brooded, he snapped, he locked himself in his room and refused to come out. He drummed at insane hours, he cried, he screamed. There were still times where he wished he hadn’t been born at all.
There were still days where Freddie flinched if someone moved towards him too fast; there were still days where Freddie piled on more layers than necessary, still days where his anxiety ruled his actions.
Neither of them were perfect. But they were doing their best, they were always striving to reach their full potential. Usually, when someone told Theo “You’re just like Freddie!” he didn’t understand. Freddie was kind and generous and loving and optimistic; Theo was temperamental and pessimistic and only loved a select few. But sometimes he understood; they were both musicians, they were both protective, they were both passionate, even if that passion materialised in different ways.
Theo Mercury was not born under good circumstances, but he was Freddie Mercury’s son through and through, and damn proud of it. He’d had teachers describe him as a “problem child.” Some people didn’t see a resemblance between his and his Papa’s personalities at all, but that was fine. Theo didn’t care about the masses. He had Freddie, he had Jim and he had Maeve.
Theo was perfectly happy with that.
“All we see is light, watch the sun burn bright. We could be alright for forever this way. All we see is sky for forever...All I see is sky for forever…” -Finale,
Dear Evan Hansen