"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Isabella, happy birthday to you!"

Isabella was suddenly startled awake, despite how softly the four adults were singing to her. She couldn't even be surprised to see Freddie there, smiling widely, as the sudden surge of grief that pulsed through her veins took over immediately.

The girl had been dreading her birthday for months now, the closer it approached. It would be the first without her parents and her sister. She knew it would hurt, but she had no idea how terrible it would feel to see the wrong people standing in front of her with a stack of pancakes in hand. A number one and a number two candle stood side by side on the stack, lit up and glowing. She sat up nervously, and backed herself further towards her headboard, barely awake now.

When Phoebe held the plate closer to Isabella, she backed up even more, until her head gently thumped the back of the wall.

"I-" Isabella started, shaking her head quickly. "Please blow it out, blow it out!"

Multiple pairs of eyes widened, each hastily coming to the realization that maybe putting fire so close to the girl's face wasn't such a good idea. Phoebe pulled the plate up to his lips and extinguished the flames.

"I... always liked the smell of burnt birthday candles," Joe said awkwardly, trying to dissipate the sudden tension in the room.

"Sweetheart," Mary sat on the mattress edge, just by Isabella now. "We're so sorry, we didn't even think."

And just like that, Isabella burst into tears, now feeling guilty on top of her grief. "I- do I have to go to school today? I don't think I can do it."

Mary sucked in a breath. Her natural instinct was to say yes, you need to go to school. But she turned to the other adults, and their faces all said the same thing:

Let her stay home.

"Oh, dearest," Mary reached over and cupped Isabella's shoulder. "If you do, you mustn't stay in your room alone all day, it won't be good for you."

Isabella sniffled, and drew in a few breaths before she spoke again. "I won't be, Freddie said he'd... spend a few hours teaching me piano today."

Mary's brows knitted together, and she turned to Freddie, before turning back to Isabella.

"Should we head?" Joe whispered to Phoebe, both of them having retreated back towards where Freddie was near the doorway.

"Think so," Phoebe nodded, and gave Isabella one last look of support before heading downstairs, pancake plate still in hand.

Freddie, by this point, was very confused. He never promised Isabella such a thing. In fact, they had barely spoken all week, between the time he spent in Munich and just having gotten back last night. For the first time in months, he had a consistent week with Winnie, no fights at all, and it was difficult to leave him. But he knew Phoebe wanted to be home for Isabella's birthday, and he secretly did too.

"Freddie?"

Freddie stepped forward, hesitant now in fear of the freshly twelve year old in front of him, still half tucked under the covers, brown curly hair frizzing around her wet cheeks. He didn't know why Isabella had lied to Mary, but he knew that of all days, today wasn't the day to challenge the girl.

"I did," Freddie cleared his throat, shoving a hand into the pocket of his dark green dressing gown. "I promised her I would if she passed her maths exam, which she did. Didn't know it would be today, but if that's what the birthday girl wants, it's what the birthday girl shall get."

Isabella's lips trembled again, this time in pure and utter gratefulness. Freddie going along with this was enough to make her cry in relief.

"Could I sleep more, since I'm not going to school?" Isabella sniffled again.

"Of course you can, Isabella. Can I get you anything, in the meantime?"

"I'm okay, thank you."

"If you're not downstairs by nine-thirty, I'm going to come get you," Mary stood up, and kissed Isabella's head. "I don't want to throw off your sleep schedule."

Isabella gratefully shuffled back down, resting her head against her pillow. She let Mary gently tuck her blanket up to her neck, and did her best to hold back tears at the thought of how much she'd kill for her mother to be standing in front of her, doting on her.

Instead of saying anything else, because Isabella was certain she wouldn't be capable of getting a word out anyway, she closed her eyes when Mary left one final brush of her finger tips on her damp cheeks. Her eyes didn't reopen until she was certain her door was closed and they were back downstairs.

That's when she turned her face into her pillow, and released her anguish into the plush material.

~~~

"What were we thinking?" Mary ran a hand through her blonde locks, depositing herself into her reading chair.

"We woke up a little girl with as much love as we possibly could, on her birthday. That's what we were thinking," Phoebe said gently, staring thoughtfully towards the front window.

While Mary and Phoebe talked, Joe stayed in the kitchen, debating whether or not he should even bother frosting the cake he woke up early to bake for Isabella. He completely understood why Isabella wouldn't want to celebrate her birthday today, and why today would be the day that she simply couldn't keep her composure and swallow her grief in front of all of them.

Joe's thoughts on it all were a mix between Mary's and Phoebe's. On one hand, they really were just trying to give the girl something normal, and treat her like any twelve year old girl would want to be treated on her birthday. On the other hand, it was an under-sight on their part to not ask Isabella in advance what she wanted from the day, her first birthday without her family.

He found himself opening the fridge, and simply staring inside at the three layered cake on the top shelf.

"Are you alright, darling?" Freddie came up behind him, peering into the fridge. "I'm not sure what's so interesting in there, but it can't be worth spoiling all of the food."

Joe, holding back tears from behind his thick glasses, replied, "Sorry, yeah."

"Come on, dear. Let's take a walk. Get some air."

Outside, the crisp autumn morning air enveloped them as they strolled towards a corner of Hyde Park that sometimes they liked to feed the ducks at. Freddie blew his warm breath into his hands, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

The two were completely silent until they reached the pond, stepping carefully around the geese-poop spattered ground.

"I've got to be honest, Joseph," Freddie tossed a piece of bread to a few waiting ducks. "I don't know whether or not to be insulted or honored that Isabella wants to spend time with me today, of all days."

"Why would you be insulted?" Joe turned to Freddie, completely confused. He blew out a breath, which was visible in the cold air.

Freddie looked down at his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he may have accidentally stepped in bird shit. "Do you really think I offered her piano lessons?"

"I dunno, you surprise me all the time. And, you two have made strides. We all can see that."

Freddie sighed, and reached into the bread bag that Joe was dutifully holding. "Not enough for something like that."

"So why would she lie?"

"I could be wrong, but I don't think I am," Freddie turned to Joe, sadness pooled in his brown eyes. "She knows that of all the adults, I will dote on her the least, and pay her the least amount of attention."

"I don't know what you're implying, Freddie," Joe replied softly, stepping a bit closer to his friend.

"I'm implying that she really thinks that I would sit in a room with her for hours while she grieves, and leave her alone to do so at that..." Freddie shuddered, and tried to pass it off as from the cold wind. He pulled his zipper up further towards his neck. "How could she think so lowly of me? I'm not a monster."

"C'mon, it's chilly, let's start heading back," Joe patted Freddie once on the arm, and began to lead the way back to Garden Lodge. "Pal, I can't claim to read her mind any more than you can, but my interpretation of it all..."

"Tell me," Freddie pressed, putting his sunglasses on now. He'd received too many stares for his liking, and was not up to stopping for fans. "Can we speed up a bit?"

Joe quickened his pace alongside Freddie. "The fact that she's chosen you to be with on her birthday, on today of all days, on the day that causes her so much discomfort... do you really think she'd choose a person who would cause her more discomfort? I think we'd all kill to be in your position right now."

"How do you mean?"

"You can bring her comfort, Freddie," Joe answered, pressing the button for the crosswalk. Whatever you two get up to in that piano room later, whether you actually have lessons or not. You might not have a single damn thing to say between the two of you, but to just provide a solid presence for her... what an honor, on a day like today."

Freddie definitely didn't see it as an honor, but he understood where Joe was coming from. It was a huge weight on his shoulders, but he knew he couldn't shove it off and put it onto one of his friends. He knew they were already carrying the load of not being able to help as much as they wanted to.

"She needs her mum and dad today, Joseph," was all Freddie could say back, a lump forming in his throat. "Nothing I will say or do today will change that."

"You have a beautiful heart, Freddie."

They began to cross the street. Freddie had nothing to say in response to that. Any time Joe got vulnerable with him, it deeply moved him.

Joe was fine with Freddie's lack of response, as he knew that the man was deep in thought, and that was better than any alternative.

~~~

The piano room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn to filter in only a soft glow of daylight. The air was mixed with melancholy and anticipation as Freddie entered, finding Isabella already seated on the plush couch, eyes swollen and red, yet devoid of tears. The room, adorned with vintage furniture and rich mahogany, felt both comforting and stifling at the same time to the both of them.

Freddie took a seat at the grand piano, glancing over at Isabella, who managed a small smile despite the heaviness in her gaze. "Thank you," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Freddie nodded, a solemn expression on his face. "Of course, darling. Shall I play? Or did you want to actually have me teach you?"

Isabella's eyes flickered with gratitude. "Play, please," she replied, knowing Mary and the others might be listening at any given moment, and if there was no piano sound, there were no lessons being had.

Freddie nodded, and began to sweep his slender fingers across the keys. "Whatever you prefer."

"I owe you for going along with this. If you can just... give me a few hours in here, I'll figure out a way to repay you. I promise."

Freddie leaned back on the piano bench, halting his playing. "You don't owe me anything, Isabella. I'm here because I want to be. No strings attached."

She nodded, acknowledging his words, and then turned away, curling into the couch with her back to him. Her silence hung heavily in the room, and Freddie wasn't sure what to do next other than play the instrument in front of him.

An hour passed, the ticking of the antique clock on the wall the only sound breaking the quiet. Freddie played gentle melodies on the piano, hoping the music would offer some solace. He occasionally stole glances at Isabella, who remained still, her eyes fixed on the back of the couch as if lost in thought. He noted just how young she seemed, curled up into herself, still in her pajamas, being consumed by a grief no child should ever experience.

Freddie finally broke the silence when he well and truly needed a break from playing. "Isabella, would you like to talk? Or perhaps, some piano lessons to pass the time?"

She shook her head, a slight tremor in her voice. "Not yet. Please. I'm not ready for this to be over. I am so sorry."

Freddie complied, despite the ache in his chest. For the first time since they met, he was compelled to hug the girl, to soothe her, as he'd seen Joseph and Mary do on several occasions in the last month. His fingers continued to dance on the keys, the soothing melody he hoped to continue, changing into a melancholy one without him noticing. As the music wrapped around them, Isabella's tension seemed to intensify. From across the room, Feddie sensed her growing struggle and, after a moment of hesitation, stopped playing.

Isabella didn't move an inch, or ask him why he'd stopped. She continued to lie there, back to him, fists balled up near her chest.

Talk to her, you bloody idiot, you can do this.

"Isabella," he said gently, "You don't have to hold it all in. Sometimes, letting it out is the best thing you can do."

Freddie shuffled on the piano bench, uncertainty clouding his features. Isabella's shoulders tensed further, her knuckles turning white as she clutched at nothing concrete.

"I don't want to cry anymore," she mumbled, her voice cracking. "I am so sick and tired of it."

"Grief has no timeline," Freddie stood up, and slowly made his way to the couch Isabella was sprawled out on. "You must be gentle with yourself, darling, and let yourself feel."

"I am so tired of feeling, Freddie," Isabella moaned. "And crying only makes me more tired, not just physically but also because I feel so bad for you guys that you have to watch me do it."

Freddie gently sat down next to her, his thighs at her socked feet. He suddenly asked himself how he got into this situation, why it had been him. He'd avoided her the most, and in doing so, created a relationship between them that was entirely different to what Isabella had with the other adults in the house.

"Well you really shouldn't," Freddie folded his arms, and leaned against the back of the sofa. "Isabella, I... I know I didn't welcome you in the way you deserved me to when you first came here. I really have been a rather bad host. And I am so sorry for any time I ever made you feel bad for being here, like you weren't wanted."

Isabella sat up slowly, grateful for Freddie's vulnerability. "I know you don't necessarily want me here, and-"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to bridge the emotional distance. "Darling, I-"

"No, it's okay," Isabella wiped her nose on her sleeve, looking more like a child to Freddie than she ever had. He bit his lip, fighting the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing what to do, but wanting to do something. "It would be silly for you to want me to be here? Imagine!"

Freddie's eyes lit up when he saw the smile that grew on Isabella's face. She was not wrong, it would be pretty ridiculous for Freddie Mercury, of all people, to welcome a child into his home and make the absolute most of it. Preposterous, really.

"I'll give that one to you," Freddie winked, and worked to take advantage of the change of mood in the room as soon as he could. "Now, if we spend any more time in here, Mary and the boys will expect you to play them Bohemian Rhapsody from start to finish, and we really can't be having that, can we?"

Isabella shook her head, and laughed again. "No, definitely not."

The room then embraced their shared silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Isabella studied the man beside her carefully, a bit of warmth growing deep in her chest.

Through swollen eyelids Isabella's gaze lingered on Freddie as he sat beside her and stared distractedly out the window, where rain began to wet the glass with droplets. In the dim light of the piano room, his features carried a timeless elegance, accentuated by the play of shadows on his face. She noted that his eyes seemed to hold the weight of countless experiences. She noticed the subtle lines etched around them, evidence of a life rich with highs and lows, of stories spoken and unspoken.

His dark mustache curved above his lips, perfectly trimmed. His sharp jawline, adorned with a hint of stubble, conveyed both strength and vulnerability at the same time. Freddie was certainly a unique amalgamation of both masculinity and grace.

Isabella couldn't articulate it, but in that moment, where neither of them had to be anywhere, had to say anything, where they just simply existed, she noted that there was in fact something deeply special about the man beside her. It wasn't just about his legendary status or his musical prowess; it was in the way he could make as much of an impact in saying something, as in saying nothing.

And she wasn't sure if she liked this sudden revelation, considering he was the one she spent the least time with, and he was the one who was most unavailable. He couldn't come close to giving her what the other members of Garden Lodge had to offer, and yet, she sought him out today.

A sudden boom of thunder outside made both of them jump slightly. Isabella looked to Freddie, not knowing what was next.

"Are you up for some cake, perhaps? Some presents?"

"I can't see myself, so... what do you think?" Isabella asked embarrasedly, gesturing to her blotchy face.

"You look absolutely fine, dear," Freddie stood, and to her shock, reached out a hand. "As fine as anyone could on a day like today. Everyone understands. Nobody will say a thing, mark my words."

Isabella hesitated briefly before accepting his hand, her grip firm but fragile.

"Do you know what Uncle Joe got me?"

"Not a clue," Freddie led the way towards the door. "Are you expecting something in particular?"

"No, but can we pretend like you told me already?"

"To... upset him?" Freddie narrowed his brown eyes at her.

"He filled my Oreos with toothpaste last week."

"Noted." Freddie nodded, gesturing Isabella to head towards the living room first. "Let's go ruffle some feathers, then."