PAUL

The waves were gone. The dots, with their shrill, torturous shrieks, had disappeared as well. Everything was dark; my eyes, I had realized, were closed.

I was being poked and prodded. I tried to move, but the gesture gave me a wave of dizziness.

"Doctor, he has regained consciousness."

"Good, good, means he's recovering alright. Are the fluids in?"

"They are flowing in at the standard rate; all is well."

"Wonderful."

"Sir? Sir." The voice, a gentle one, was speaking to me.

I tried to speak, but was too weak. "Hmm," I groaned.

"Please stay still. You don't want to get in the way of the tubes."

Tubes. What tubes? I slowly tried to open my eyes, and soon I was surveying the room, trying to see everything without moving my head, so as not to get in the way of anything.

I was in a hospital room. Everything was white: white walls, white ceiling, white curtains, white sheets. The sterile smell was making me nauseous. I directed my eyes downward. Sure enough, there were a few tubes plugged into my arms, and something was flowing through them.

I wanted to ask, "What's going on?" but all I could muster was another groan.

The doctor seemed to know what I was getting at. "You're going to be alright."

The young nurse, with the gentle voice, said, "Doctor, should I go tell the visitor that he has awoken?"

"Yes, yes, if the patient is ready," the doctor replied. Turning to me, he said, "Is it alright if someone visits you? He's been waiting all night."

I managed to croak out a word: "Who?"

"Your friend, Mr. Starr."

I closed my eyes. Of all the people that could've visited, I was expecting John. The two people I had wanted to see most were John and Margo, and Margo was an ocean away. I felt betrayed, that my best friend hadn't shown up.

But of course Ringo was one of my very close friends, and I wanted to see him, too.

I opened my eyes, and slowly nodded. " 'S alright," I said, my voice slightly raspy.

The doctor smiled. "Wonderful," he said. "Alright, dear," he said to the nurse, who was also awaiting my reply, "Send for Mr. Starr."

We waited a few minutes in silence, and then the nurse returned. Ringo walked in behind her.

His hair was ruffled; so were his clothes. There were dark bags under his eyelids. His eyes, however, were wide open, and worry riddled them.

When he saw me, his eyes brightened, and his mouth turned up into a goofy grin. "Paul!" he said gleefully. Even in his disheveled state, he was full of energy, like a little child.

I couldn't help but crack a smile. "Hey, Ritch," I croaked.

Ringo walked closer to me, and sat down on a chair next to my bed. "So," he said, "the folks treating you well around here?"

He looked up at the doctor, and his smile faded a bit. Inquiry flashed on his eyes.

The doctor stood on the other side of the bed. "Well, Paul here has suffered from a bit of dehydration. There weren't enough fluids in his body. The lack of liquid, and all the heat coming down from the spotlights, made for a weakened body, and this stimulated the vagus nerve, causing him to pass out. We are running more fluid into his body, and he is recovering very well."

Ringo, who had tensed up while the doctor was talking, let out a breath. "Well, that's great!" he said, rubbing his hands together, and looking at me. "Heard that, Paul?"

I nodded, and closed my eyes. I was beginning to feel very tired.

"Dehydration is a very common thing, and not that difficult to overcome. He should just watch how much he drinks. Eight glasses of water a day are very important."

I let out a yawn.

"Doctor," Ringo asked, softer now, "when will he be able to leave?"

"He is pretty weak right now. He may need to stay for a few days, a week at the most. We need to stabilize his body."

"And what about tours?"

As I drifted away into a calm sleep, I heard the doctor sigh, and say, "I think performances are out of the question for the time being. He may be able to tour one day, but that day is not very near."

MARGO

"Flight 621, to New York, now boarding."

I opened my eyes; I must've fallen asleep. I stood up, a bit shaky, got my bearings, and walked over to the attendant.

"Hello," I muttered, exhausted.

"Good evening," the woman replied. "May I have your ticket please?"

I handed her all the papers, and was admitted in. I reached the plane, where I passed another smiling stewardess, and walked to my seat.

It was a small area near the window, and I squeezed myself and my belongings in with me.

Before everyone was in the plane, I was already asleep once more, a sleep full of short and terrifying nightmares, and wouldn't wake up until we'd reached our destination.