Yes. I am aware that's a horrible photoshop 😂🙃

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the beginning of your life, you're unsure of where to go, how to start, and absolutely terrified about where you'll end up.

If you don't try to indulge a bit, you'll let your life fly by and you'll miss the times you never thought you'd cherish so dearly.

When you get to the end of your life, sometimes the messages are still very unclear. Sometimes it's unexpected, sudden, and you're gone in a flash. Other times you see it coming headlong...

"Thank you so much for promptly coming, Cherie—"

"Of course, I came!," Her voice rings in my ear, tempting me to open my eyes to the angelic sound, but I can't.

"As soon as Thomas told me, I— I couldn't believe it! And now I'm here, and he's still not awake?! Are you joking?! Why would you bring me all the way down here to lie to me!? Is my pain funny to all of you?!"

She sounds hysterical at this point. I can feel her pain piercing my ears, stabbing my heart, covering my entire being with a sheer blanket of heartache.

"No, no, not at all, Mrs. Mercury—"

"Just call me Cherie," she inhales sharply. "Goddamnit! Ugh! I said I wouldn't cry, I'm sorry. I'm just so emotional..."

"That's understandable," the doctor meekly mumbles. "Anyway, I uh, he was awake. Fully awake and coherent as far as I could tell. The first thing he did was ask about you and your children—"

Her sniffles kill me. The hiccups she tries to hold in make a strange suffocating noise as she gulps them down, listening to the doctor explain himself.

"Um, he became rather hysterical and I didn't want him to become violent or to suffer another seizure that could potentially damage all the amazing progress he's made...So, we had to put him under heavy sedation to uh, run some more tests and hopefully give his body a break to calm down"

"He's had years of his body taking a break!," Cherie cuts him off with a scoff. "Wake him up! I don't want you to dilute his body or mind with anymore coma-inducing crap!"

That's right— there's my girl.

"We don't want to cause him any harm, Cherie. I assure you. We've all be rather stumped with his condition and we want the best for him—"

"The best for him is coming home with me. He won't stay here and listen to you if he's as sound as you make him seem. He needs me."

Her hand clutches onto mine. My fingers are limp. I can't move them to hold hers, but she's here and that's all that matters now. I try to fight the fog of the medication, but I can't seem to gain control of my senses yet. Well, at least I know she's here...

"I don't know if that's a good idea—"

"Like hell it isn't!," Cheries hand squeezes mine before she lets go. I hear her heels click across the floor.

"You'd be leaving against medical advice. At this point, we should all take it slow."

"How much slower can it get, Gordon?! It's been too long!"

The doctor lets out a long sigh as if he was holding his breath...his next words let me figure out that he was biting his tongue in stress. Maybe for my benefit. Maybe he knows I can hear them...

"Cherie— he hasn't been responding well to Thomas for a while now— I don't know if you're aware of it..."

"What does that mean?," Cherie resounds quite defensively. Why?

"Well, you see, the last time and this time included, Freddie's been accusing us of 'working with Thomas'— whatever that means. My guess is that Freddie demonized the man because Thomas is in charge of medication. Also, I believe even though he has been in and out of consciousness, perhaps Freddie has been able to hear for much longer than we know. I think he knows that since you've left you've.."

"There's no way he could know that!," Cherie's voice rises as she stomps her foot. "Enough with your hypothesis, doctor, really I mean no disrespect. Thank you for helping, but if he's alright now, he's coming home!"

——————————————————-

I think I dozed off again once I was transported into the back of Cherie's car. She's taking her time driving, humming nervously with the radio.

I can't really make out the song. All is hear is a low lull of music. My heads still dizzy. I don't have control of myself as my body glides with every turn against the restraint of the seat belt in the back seat.

I feel like I'm spying on her just sitting, staring, listening. We pull up to the back gates of garden lodge. She sighs heavily when she shuts the car off, resting her head against the steering wheel.

My poor angel. She seems so stressed out. The doctor said she never expected me to wake up. I wonder was she hoping for it or against it.

"We're home, Papi," she says more to herself than to me. I only open my eyes when I hear her door slam shut. I watch as she takes a moment before heading to the back of the car, taking and unfolding a wheelchair.

I make eye contact with her when she nears my window. Her eyes crinkle behind her cheeks as she smiles sweetly, opening the door.

"You're awake," she breathes, sounding relieved. "Can you move to the chair?"

She waits for me, just staring. The longer she stares the more incompetent I feel. I'm trying to move, really I am. It just isn't working.

"Don't worry. Phoebe should be here. One sec," she leaves the door open, leaving me alone as she heads into the house.

They wheel me to the living room and whisper amongst themselves. With all the echoes of this place you'd think I'd catch on to what they're saying but I haven't the energy. I'm tired as if I haven't been sleeping for ever. My eyes begin to droop again and I have to wonder what type of medication has penetrated me so deeply that I can hardly function.

"Perhaps we should get him to bed...," Phoebe suggests as he tugs his coat on. My eyes keep rolling backwards, but I'm fighting from the inside.

"No. I want to try and keep him awake..."

Cherie walks him out and comes back around to sit on the coach closest to me. She grabs my hand and again I don't have the strength to reciprocate the tender caresses she showers me with.

Her hand traces my face. Her fingertips move my long hair away from my forehead. I'm sure I look like a dopey fool; this drowse is starting to infuriate me.

All I can do is watch her and try my best to keep my eyes open. "You're okay now, Papi," she touches the tears that pour out of me. I didn't even know I had started to cry. "I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you," her hands are on either side of my face as she cups my cheeks.

I close my eyes and fall into her warmth. "I've missed you so much," My eyes flicker open to the sound of her strained voice. Her own tears cascade down her face. Try as I might, no voluntary movement on my end can console her. She sniffles the tears away. "I love you, Freddie. I love y-you with my whole heart."

She's so close to me now. If I could lick my lips and kiss hers, I'd probably drown and happily. But it doesn't come that easily.

I open my mouth to speak, but she jumps back to the sounding knocks at the front door. Clearing her throat and removing her hands from me, she brushes my hair one last time before casting her eyes away from mine, getting up to answer the door.

"Daddy! Daddy! I has so much fun today!"

"Richard...stop calling him that!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. You not dad, you—"

The biggest gasp sucks all of the air out of the room and glues my shattered heart back together in the very second that it breaks. A tiny, bounce of short stack curls hyperly jumps up and down in front of me. She attacks my with pecking kisses, grabbing my hands with the largest smile on her face. The huge sparkles in her eyes could be sold as the finest crystals as she looks me up and down, finally falling into my lap.

"Oh, Papi! It's you! You here! You home! FINALLY!!!," She shrieks and I don't ever wish to forget that noise. Even if it hurts my head in its current state, I can hardly breathe as I take her in. My Charlie girl, she looks so grown up!

"Don't hog him, Char!," Richie scoots her aside. She moves but not even by an inch. "Papi, you okay? You all better now? Papi, why you in a chair?," Richie's big brown eyes inspect me as he pulls away from a tight hug.

I wish I could answer them. I wish I could hold them. Kiss them. Squeeze them.

But all I can do is stare back and hope that the look on my face is a happy one. The least I could do is smile.

"What wrong with him?," Charlie asks, sounding hurt. I guess my smile isn't working. God, I'm useless.

Cherie comes to shush them away. She grabs their hands and hugs them to her side as the three of them stare back at me. "Papi is really tired. He'll be back to himself tomorrow, don't worry. Now off to bed. It's very late," the twins look about to protest the subject of bedtime, but a heavy footing and a deep, strict voice cuts them off. "Now, now, Kids. Do as your mother says..."

The twins turn to the voice behind me. Charlie rolls her eyes, Richie looks at me and then nods his head as the two of them ascend the stairs to their bedroom.

I don't want them to go. Even though I haven't been able to notice their absence, my heart cries inside watching them walk away from me. I wish I could have shown them how much I've missed them, too.

My thoughts are suddenly disgusted by the sight before me now. Cherie is sitting again, the mystery voice being revealed as he takes his seat beside her. His arm snakes behind her back, his hand squeezes her hip.

"Thomas...," Cherie warns, moving his hand away from her waist. "What? He's nonlucid. Look," the imbecile then proceeds to snap his fingers towards my head, in my face, and near my ears. "See?," he smiles, settling back onto the couch, nestling his head onto Cherie's exposed collar bone.

Her eyes meet mine. If I couldn't smile a second ago, it's clear that I can't even express the skin curdling rage that wants to escape me now. "I think you should leave," She scoffs, pushing him away from her. His face twists into a hideous scowl. "Just for now, Tom. I mean— my family and I, we have a lot to work through."

"Have I not been patient enough, Cherie?," he lifts himself to his feet, folding his arms. "Did I not give you what you wanted??" He points to me. "A fucking zombie. There! He's here! Aren't you satisfied now?"

She keeps her line of vision on me. It's as though her eyes are apologizing as the words spill out of his mouth. "Don't for one second think he'll forgive you for abandoning him—"

"I never abandoned him— fuck you!," this makes her shift gears, she rises to her feet, matching his arrogance. "It's not my fault you try to step into his shadow trying to ride his coat tails! He's my husband!," Her arms are flailing with anger. She's had enough.

He catches her by the wrist. I swear to put him in an early grave if he so much as lifts a hand to her now.

But he doesn't. He recoils. Taking a deep breath, he bends his head, kissing her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm jealous," he admits with a condescending smirk.

It surprises me how easily she sinks into him. She lets him hold her as she quietly cries into his chest. He stands a few inches taller than her, his head resting on top of hers as he brushes his fingers through her hair, comforting her. Just as I used to do.

I want to look away, but I can't.

I want to yell, to scream, to let her know that I'm not okay with this! I want to ring his neck!

He steps back, kisses her forehead, and lifts her chin to meet his eyes. "I'll give you some space. I'll leave tonight."

She nods. He kisses her lips quickly and turns to leave as she watches, arms crossed as if holding herself together. I close my eyes, trying to hide myself away.

She doesn't face me, instead she starts to wheel me toward the guest bedroom on this level of the house, struggling a bit to get me inside. She turns me towards her once were level with the bed, placing my feet on the floor, and grabbing ahold of my arms to throw over her shoulders.

I open my eyes again to watch her. She looks exhausted, hopeless, and entirely too sad for my liking. So, with every single ounce of anger filtering through me, I let it go. Finally feeling again, I propel myself up, clinging with my arms around her neck, heaving my body onto the mattress.

I lie uncomfortably on my side as she struggles to pull the covers from beneath me. She unties my laces, carefully taking off my shoes. She pulls each of my arms out of my shirt like an infant child, then pulls down my sweatpants, completely undressing me down to my underwear. Her hands linger on my skin as she bites her lip to stifle her whimpers. Carefully, she wraps me in the blanket, swooping down to kiss my head.

She goes to crawl off of the bed, I guess to let me rest here alone. I tell myself not to let her go. I want to hold her, to touch and feel her close to me.

She sighs as her eyes begin to cry, moving further away until her feet touch ground.

"Goodnight, my love. I'm so so s-sorry..."

My hand has a mind of its own. A miracle of surging strength as I reach out to grab her fingers.

She turns toward me again in a flash, eyes wide, breath hitching in her throat.

"....," is all I say. And she listens.

Without another exchange of words, she slides into bed, slipping under the covers in front of me. She's crying again, but this time more freely.

She's sobbing as she touches me. I simply breathe her in.

Again, I pull her closer to me until her body heat accelerates my heartbeat.