Well hi there :) God, I hate writing author's notes, I always ramble. I've only written two sentences and already I'm off topic.
Right, so, this is my first We Will Rock You fic, so be kind :D I think this area of fanfiction doesn't have as much stuff as it should… so here you go :)
I think Meat is a bit OOC, but I kinda think she'd be a bit more sober after Brit's death and everything. Plus, she's got a bit of a…eh, surprise so…And this is set a couple of months after Wembley, methinks.
This is A Christmas Carol/It's a Wonderful Life inspired – Who knows why it came to me in June, but its definitely not Christmas time, okay? :)
I do not own the following: Queen, Galileo Figaro, Scaramouche, Meat, Brit, The Heartbreak Hotel or any lyrics. I also don't seem to own a brain, as if I did, I would've have thought to just write 'I don't own anything you recognise'
"Oh yeah? Well, you're a pig!" Meat sighed as she heard Scaramouche scream, loud bangs telling her that the younger girl was thundering down the stairs as moodily as possible.
"Oh really? Well, you're a cow!" The Dreamer yelled after her, his footsteps, slightly lighter than his girlfriend's punctuating his insult. Scaramouche slammed the door open, stomping into the room with Galileo right behind her.
"Why don't you both bugger off to the bloody farmyard then?" Meat shouted, sick and tired after what had to be at least an hour of fighting. She sighed again as the couple turned to her slightly shocked, rubbing her head as a tingling ache started throbbing between her eyes. Headaches were coming quicker and more painful now that she was…bigger. "What's happened this time?"
Both of them opened their mouths to start ranting about each other, but paused, realising neither of them could remember what had started their argument. Meat rolled her eyes.
"You are so stupid sometimes," she muttered, more to herself than them. Unfortunately, Scaramouche caught her murmur and scowled.
"As opposed to Gaz, who's stupid all the time," she hissed and he glared.
"Just because I don't use stupid long words like you do," he growled back.
"Because you're two thick to understand any of them!" Scaramouche shot back, her voice raising.
"ENOUGH!" Meat bellowed, her Scottish accent thick with anger. "You two – what's wrong with you?" She tried to keep her voice from shouting, her headache pulsing from their yelling. "Why can't you just be glad you have each other?"
Galileo lowered his head, staring at the floor.
"You're a couple of teenagers in love – you shouldn't be fighting!" Meat continued.
"Yeah?" Scaramouche smirked in a sad way. "Well, Meat… I just worked out why they call this place The Heartbreak Hotel," She glanced angrily at Galileo. "It's a pretty accurate name, actually," she shook her head, half way between tears and shouting, before storming out the door opposite to the one she came into the room in.
Galileo stared after her, looking shocked. "I…" he mumbled, lost for words.
Meat sighed – she was doing an awful lot of that lately. "She'll come round, Dreamer,"
"Yeah…" Galileo nodded, but he didn't look certain.
It was three hours later when Scaramouche returned though the door; when Meat asked her where she'd been, she simply replied with 'out' and offered the older woman a half-hearted smile. Meat attempted to hug her, but she took a shaky step away, with an apologetic face. Meat nodded, showing she understood; Scaramouche didn't really like being cuddled or comforted – unless it was by Gaz of course. Speaking of which…
"He's upstairs," Meat told her, indicating with her water bottle to the doorway leading to the stairs.
Scaramouche nodded to show she'd heard, but slid into a booth as far away from the steps as possible instead of venturing up them.
Meat bit her lip, sitting down opposite the girl. "He was quite worried," she tried again.
"He'll be fine." Scaramouche muttered, although Meat wasn't sure if she was being addressed or not. "The voices in his head have probably made him forget anyway."
"Ah…" Realisation dawned on the blonde. "So that's what this is about," she clarified.
Scaramouche sighed, turning her head away from Meat's gaze. "I don't… I don't think I can take it much more," she mumbled. "It always 'Scaramouche, I've got a new song!' or 'Scaramouche, play this on guitar, I heard it in my head!'" Meat was astonished to see a tear slip down Scaramouche's cheek; she'd never seen the girl cry, although Galileo had told her that she had when they were mourning Brit in the van that night and Pop had mentioned her crying when Galileo had made up with her at Wembley. "I love that he doesn't see me as some stupid chick that can't stand up for herself, I really do…It's just sometimes…" Scaramouche trailed off, blinking furiously.
"…you wish it wasn't all he saw you for?" Meat put in.
Scaramouche nodded. "At Wembley, he was too Gaz and not enough… Shagileo Gigalo," she blushed uncharacteristically at the nickname and Meat smiled softly. "Now… now, it's the other way round."
"Don't you worry, hen," Meat clucked, squeezing Scaramouche's hand that was resting on the table between them. "He's a rockstar – they all get a bit big in the head area sometimes,"
"More like in the pants area," Scaramouche smirked, feeling more like herself after Meat's reassurance.
Meat laughed, gulping down her remaining dregs of water. Scaramouche smiled and excused herself to go to bed. Meat watched her go, rubbing her stomach thoughtfully. "Not even a mum yet, and I'm already helping the youngsters," she said to the air. "God help this little one, Brit,"
Galileo shrunk back into the shadows behind the door as Scaramouche headed up the stairs not noticing him, although she seemed a bit nervous, looking past him as she stared around in the dark.
He sighed, sliding to the floor and banging his head a little harder than necessary back against the wall. A million love songs later and here I am trying to tell you that I care, the voices in his head chimed in echoing in his ears as he brought his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the singing.
"Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?" he whispered, smiling wistfully as he remembered the replies she'd given him over the times he'd asked that question; 'Are you trying to get in my pants?', 'No, I'm bloody well not going to dance with you!', '…Shagileo, I thought you'd never ask!' and the most recent 'Bugger off, Gaz.'
"Sorry Scaramouche," he mumbled. "You'd be better off without me,"
"Now then, Dreamer," a rough voice came from above him. "I thought you'd let that spineless, gutless, whinging cry baby stuff back at Wembley?"
"Brit?" Galileo gasped, flattening into the wall with shock at the Bohemian who he was pretty sure was dead. "Wha… am I dead?"
Brit raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't hit my head that hard did I? I didn't mean to… oh well, at least Scara can be happy now…"
Brit rolled his eyes, grabbing Galileo's arma dn pulling him to his feet, getting his attention. "No, you're not dead. Well… not yet. Technically." He paused, then started again. "You think your chick would be better off without you, yes?"
"Right, I'm here, courtesy of the Gods of Rock to show you what Scaramouche's life would be like if you weren't in it," Brit explained. Galileo gaped as he continued. "After you've seen all the possibilities, you can decide whether to come back here or to never have been born. Got it?"
"Yeah…" Galileo paused, thinking over his dead-but-sort-of-alive friend's words. "Wait, possibilities?" he highlighted the 's' with his tone.
Brit smiled warmly at him. "You of all people know that your baby is a… demanding girl; do you really think she'd be happy with only one outcome?"
Galileo tilted his head in agreement then stopped again. "Hang on though… you're dead!"
Brit rolled his eyes. "This is the Dreamer I died for?" he muttered, making sure Galileo didn't hear him. "Come on," he added louder, gripping Galileo's arm and giving it a swift pull, yanking them backwards as a misty pink haze descended on them.
The last thing Galileo heard was Scaramouche's voice calling "Gaz?" from the top of the stairs, then everything went black.
So, this was longer than intended, so thanks if you read it all :)
Just wanted to point out that I think Gaz and Scara are about 17-18 years old and Meat is about 22-23, and is shaken by Brit's death. And in this story, she's quite close to Scaramouche.
Well, please review :D