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 stiffly 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 fulfill 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 fulfill 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."