A/N: I know, I know… It's been forever. kicks self Okay, I don't own WWRY or any related stuff. References

Chapter Six- Without You

There was a blur, and then, as if floating above them, he saw the Bohemians sitting in chairs much like he had once, wires dangling from their heads, laser cages surrounding all of them. Slowly, orange helmets were lowered onto their heads as one by one their minds were blown…

"And with a smile, I'll take you to—"

"The Seven Seas of Rhye!"

He jolted up from his sleep, damp with sweat, his mind filled with the vision of the bohemians being tortured.

"Good morning, Gazza," he heard from beside him, the voice clearly just having woken up.

Oh, right. Last night.

"Or," Scaramouche said, sitting up, "perhaps I should use your full name— Shagileo Gigolo…"

"Scaramouche! Last night I had this dream and it was…" He paused for a moment as what she had said sunk in. "Shagileo Gigolo?" He asked, a smile slowly creeping up his face. "You really think so?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, leaning in and kissing him.

He pulled away hurriedly and stood up. He had to tell her about the dream. "No, there's no time! I have to get to the Seven Seas of Rhye! Look, in my dream, Meat and—"

The girl stood, groaning. "Gazza, there is nothing," she said, her hands on his shoulders, "and I mean nothing more boring than people trying to describe their dreams to them."

Why didn't she get it? Maybe she was just tired. But he needed to tell her, tell her what had happened!

"But, Scaramo—"

"No, just trus' me on this one. It kills relationships stone dead. The morning one partner wakes up and says 'it was amazing, there was a rabbi', in a bowler hat, cooking an omelet… tha' is when love dies," she said, her face completely serious.

"He tortured them, Scaramouche! And he's sending them to the Seven Seas of Rhye!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Barely noticing what she said, he paced in front of the van, collecting his thoughts. "I think it's somewhere in the Europrecinct of Planet Mall. And there was water. Lots of… water… and… what did you say?"

"I know abou' the Seven Seas of Rhye," she said, rolling her eyes. "They're no' seas at all. They're rivers. Rivers tha' supply a lake. They used to call i' Lake Geneva. The spiri' of rock is very strong there. It's where they pu' all the misfits, the rebels."

His face lit up. He grabbed her hands. "This… this is incredible, Scaramouche! We had the same dream! It's like we're soul mates, split-aparts, kindred spirits! I mean—"

She put her hand over his mouth. "Gazza, I didn' have any dream. I jus' reversed the polarity on one of Khashoggi's micro-transceivers. I've been monitoring police headquarters."

Galileo pouted. "Gee. You really know how to make a guy feel inadequate…"

"Bless. Well, why don' you le' me make up for i', then…" she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Tempted though he was, there was just no time. "No! I have to go to the Seven Seas!" he said, pulling away once more.

"Gazza, it's still pretty dangerous ou' there," she explained, sitting back down. "The police are bound to be lookin' for us… We should just hide ou' here, on this mattress, for a couple of days… maybe more…"

"No, Scaramouche," he said, returning to his pacing, words flooding into his head. "I still haven't found what I'm looking for! I want the world and I want it now! You can't stop until you get enough! Billie-Jean is not my lover. She's just a girl that claims that I am the one. The kid is not my son. Voldemort can't stop the rock!"

"Wha' in the name of all tha' is good in this world is a Voldy-wor'?"

"Nothing… Nothing; I dunno where that last bit came from. I'm going. I'll be back for you," he explained, walking away from her.

"Wha' do you mean, you're goin'?" she snapped, standing. "There's bound to be police everywhere. I should go."

Galileo whirled around. "No, Scaramouche. This is my fight!"

"How'd you work tha' ou'?"

"Because I'm 'the man'!" he explained, walking back to her. "Britney Spears said so!"

"Which is why I should go," she offered. "I'm dispensable. It's stupid to have you waste your life! You should stay here!"

"Right," he said, testing out that sarcasm thing that Scaramouche did. "Sure. You can go. I'm the Dreamer, right? Of course I'm going to let my chick fight my battles for me…" It was kinda fun. He could see why she liked it.

"Le' your chick?!" She said angrily. "Excuse me, bu' a' wha' point in this relationship did you take the arsehole pill?"

"For god's sake, Scaramouche, must everything be a fight with you? I thought you'd mellowed out!"

"Well, I haven'!"

"Look, it's really starting to irritate me," he growled.

"Oh, no," she said with an air of false sadness. "I think my hear' jus' broke."

"Look," he explained, grabbing her hands. "You're my girlfriend! I want to protect you!" Didn't she get it? He wasn't trying to be an "arsehole." He just couldn't bear to lose her.

For the ten minutes he'd been awake, it hadn't been a good day. He had a headache, had woken up much earlier then he had planned, and now she was yelling at him.

"No," she snapped, pulling away from him and sticking her finger in his face. "You think jus' because you go' your leg over tha' you own me or something!"

"You are such a pain with this constant female assertion thing!"

"Fine! Well at leas' now we know where we stand!"

"Yes, we do!"

"Which is no' together!"

What? Where did that come from? Galileo just thought they needed to just get to know each other better. And be a little more accepting, maybe. But…

"Well… i-if you say so!"

"Righ'!" She said. "From now on, our relationship is purely professional. We've go' a job to do, and we'll do i', and tha's all."

"Well, suits me!" He said. Guess there was no point arguing it now. "But I'm going to the Seven Seas!" Galileo yelled back as he walked away.

"Well, so am I!" She heard her call out from behind him. "And… and if, when we ge' there, you get caugh', and the Dream is los', and the kids are enslaved 'til the end of time, you're… well, you're going to feel a bi' bloody stupid, tha's all!"

He grumbled under his breath and just kept walking. If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she would get.

After all, he only wanted to make her happy.

"What part of 'don't stop me now' do you not get?"

"I'm afraid you didn't let me finish, madam," Khashoggi informed her.

"Finish. Now."

He took a deep breath. "We broke up the Bohemian stronghold. But I'm afraid that the Dreamer and his bad-arsed babe escaped our clutches. I don't, however, see this as a problem—"

"You lost them?" The woman before him whispered threateningly.

"Lost them?" Khashoggi asked, seemingly confused. "Oh, I see... lost them. No, we didn't lose them, no. We just don't know where they are."

Killer Queen exploded with rage. "You fool! You imbecile! You talentless, flat-footed PC Plod! Those two pathetic losers are making idiots of us!"

"They are individuals, madam! The most dangerous enemy of all! I'd rather face a massed army of nuclear-powered cyber-cops than that one crazy kid with a dream," he explained. He instantly regretted his words, seeing the look on his boss's face. "All right, perhaps I was pitching it a bit strong. But the point is that we're currently stretched to the limit! The summer heat is intense. We're encountering serious civil disorder. The rivers and seas that rose with global warming are receding again as the planet dehydrates."

"Who cares," She growled. "I like hot weather."

"We're having to drain the lakes simply to supply the Coke dispensers at the multiplexes, madam."

"That's absurd."

"Have you seen the size of the cups these days? They've been getting bigger for over three hundred years. Regular is now the size of a dustbin. Just last week a small child fell into her Sprite and drowned."

"I am sick of excuses, Commander Khashoggi. And I am also sick of you!" She proclaimed, advancing menacingly toward him. "With your weary, sneery, posey, schmosey, 'Look at me, I'm wearing sunglasses indoors!' crap! Oiling round the place with your snooty little booty in your Armani suity."

He stuttered, taking a step back. "A-actually, madam, it's M&S. They've really raised their game recently, don't you think?"

"Need I remind you that, besides being businesswoman of the year, I am also dynamite with a laser beam!"

"N-nobody admires you more than I do, madam… Your gentle manner… Your quiet, unassuming sense of style… your kind, forgiving nature…"

"Nice try, commander. You know what happens to people who disappoint me! I think I will have to blow your mind!"

And with a snap of her fingers, almost instantly he could feel an electrical jolt overtake him as a familiar, orange helmet was lowered onto his head.

They had walked in angered silence for almost two days. Somehow, he intimidated her. She didn't know why; he was, after all, the ultimate kook. And yet, he was the one person she feared at that moment.

Okay, so maybe she should have noticed the old trail underground across the Channel. But that didn't mean he was smarter than her. Only that he was more observant, which in and of itself weirded her out. And then there were his dreams, oh, geez, they had gotten loud. Last night he had been screaming something about not going to pay rent.

It hadn't been a good trek. She hadn't gotten any sleep, hadn't been able to pick up any news on the microtrancievers, and the worst part was she hadn't been able to maintain her hate of Gazza for any of it. But he expected her to be stubborn, and so she was.

And now he had to be walking at least seven meters in front of her.

"Oi!" OI! Slow down, will you?" Scaramouche called to the figure ahead, the first words that had been spoken since they had exited the tunnel.

"No," he growled, not even looking back. "You keep up."

"Well, I've go' shor'er legs than you!"

"Heh. Don't worry; your mouth makes up for them."

Bah. It was obvious he had planned that comeback for at least a kilometer.

"You didn' have any objections to it tha' nigh'!"

Galileo paused, turned around. "That… was below the belt!" he accused.

"Which seems to be all you think women are any good for!" she retorted angrily.

"Hey," he snarled, his tone serious yet laced with rage. "This isn't some feminist achievement course we're on! It's a battle as big as… as big as the planet!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, i's as big as your ego, more like!"

"Me? Egotistical?" he questioned. "Let's get one thing straight, all right? You are a girl. You're slower than me," he ticked off on his fingers, "weaker than me—"

"Cleverer than you!"

"What? Just because you reversed the polarity on a couple of microtrancievers?" Gazza mocked.

"Yeah." She smirked.

"Well… my intelligence is more… abstract! I have the mind of an artist," he explained calmly.

"A piss artis', more like."

His anger spiked. "A rock artist! And I've got—"

"You don' even know wha' rock is!" She interjected, but he ignored her and continued.

"—a world to save, so if you hold me up—"

"Hold you up?" She hissed. "Listen, mate! We're in this together! And despite the fact tha' you are emotionally immature, scared of commitmen' and—" she struggled to think of something she could accuse him of— "you kep' your socks on, I'm staying!"

"Well, suit yourself," Gazza muttered, continuing his walk.

"Don' worry, I will!"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," she mocked, rolling her eyes.

He swirled around. "What?"

This could ge' interesting… "What?" she repeated, innocently.

"Hey!" Gaz said, finally understanding.

"Hey!"

"Scaramouche, stop doing that! Quit pointing at me like that! Argh!"

"Scaramouche, stop doing tha'! Qui' poin'ing a' me like tha'! Argh!"

"Don't you mock me, Scaramouche!"

"I jus' did," Scaramouche said, a false sense of playfulness returning to their situation. Of all the things she thought would happen on this journey, her being the silly one was not one of them. Gaz was the 'little brother' of their weird, twisted family. He was supposed to be the funny, less sane one with all the jokes. Not her.

"Look, it doesn't matter if we like each other or not. But we have to get serious—"

"You? Ge' serious? Wha' ever happened to the time-wastin' Gaz I knew? The one who didn' know what he was doin'?"

"Yeah? What ever happened to Scaramouche, the girl who never followed any call to duty or popularity or… anything? 'Marched to the beat of her own drum'?"

"I guess i' happens to all of us. Just waitin' for the hammer to fall, I suppose. And wha' the hell's a 'beat'? Or a drum, for tha' matter?"

Gaz paused his slow and steady walk. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I asked wha' the hell on Plane' Mall is a 'beat'?"

"No, before that."

"Just waitin' for the hammer to fall?"

"Yeah… The hammer to fall!" She could see the cogs turning in his head, a tell-tale sign that he was hearing things.

She raised an eyebrow. "God, Gazza, it seems like your sanity keeps falling away."

"No…" he said, shaking his head as if to get the words out of it. "It's just… something I've heard, in a dream… 'Toe your line and play their game…'." He started pacing side to side, muttering things under his breath.

"Okay, seriously, Gaz. You need some mental treatmen'. Tranquilizer, maybe." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Wha' the hell—"

"—Are we fighting for?" Gazza offered.

"I was going to say '…Am I still doin' here?' but tha' works, too. We could jus' surrender, an' i' won' hur' a' all."

All of a sudden his face just lit up. "Well give it to me one more time!" He said, looking pleased with himself.

Anger bubbled up once more in the pit of her stomach. "In your dreams, mate."

And she stalked off, her eyes rolling.

From a distance she could almost hear him saying, "No, that's how the song ends, 'Give it to me one more time!' I didn't mean it like that! Scaramouche?"

A/N: Well, there you have it. Hammer to Fall. I kinda like how I sort of abstractly put in the lyrics. Not sure if I'm too pleased with it overall or not; if you've got any suggestions for revision, bring 'em on. I started school last Tuesday, so it might be a while before more updates come out. On a lighter note, two chapters and the epilogue to go! I guarantee the epilogue will blow your mind.