John stood overlooking the river as he watched the ships bob quietly up and down the gentle waves that rolled in from the sea and into the harbour. It was a quiet afternoon at the docks, the sun shining brightly and the weather being soft with little wind and only the occasional cloud in the sky to block away the watery light of the sun. Overhead, he could hear the seagulls calling and the sails of the ships rustle in the wind as the wood of the boats creaked under the impact of the water. Once or twice, a dog came rushing by him, barking or sniffing around for any forgotten fish that had fallen from the nets of the fishing boats, while sailors and seamen were shouting directions, orders, and whatever else at each other while they worked. Some were singing songs, seeming joyful and at ease as they followed the orders that had been shouted their way the best they could. Although he rarely came here, John liked going to the docks, the sounds and that salty seawater smell having a soothing effect on him and allowing him to clear and order his mind, to for once think and worry about nothing.

The week following Paul McCartney's unusual and unexpected late-night visit had gone by without much ado, the days passing by with so much ease and quiet that John had hardly noticed the days moving on from one to the next, the minutes, hours and days melting together as he lost track of time, only needing to focus on the few assignments he and Stuart still had. It was a pleasant rhythm to work in, without any haste or urgency, and he often found himself stretched out on his bed in the evenings with a fire roaring in the fireplace and a good book in his hand to read while he'd drink his tea, only to drift off into a peaceful slumber and be awoken again that following morning by one of his cats, who would stand meowing on his chest, demanding breakfast. It was a comfortable routine and John felt himself growing into it.

Even his meetings with Paul, which at first had been a great source of worry and anticipation, had become more relaxed, quieter as they became routine. Neither had mentioned anything about that unexpected visit, and even when Paul had given him his clothes and umbrella back, he had done so with only a softly muttered "thank you" as he had refused to look John in the eye, seeming bashful and almost ashamed about what had transpired between them some nights before. John, having noticed the younger man's embarrassment, had merely nodded in reply and handed the stack of clothes to Dot to be put away and had not made any other mention about that night for the remains of the evening or during any of the other meetings they had had, and neither had Paul, who had not seemed to have minded. Still, John wondered often why Paul had turned up at his doorstep that evening, but he had not dared to ask in the hope to keep his relationship with Paul as good as it was, knowing now that the younger man had taken a liking to him for whatever reason, and wanting to keep it that way.

But even if their relationship was evolving into a much better direction than John had first expected it to when Mr. Edwards had told him about the assignment, and the two of them were becoming more comfortable in each other's presence, at the same time John felt a distance between them that had not been there before. Although he did not know what he had expected after that evening when Paul had showed up at his door, soaked through to the skin and trembling from the cold, without any given explanation, he had felt somewhat disappointed when he had seen Paul again that Friday and he had been cold and distant towards him, more so even than during the meetings before that. Apart from his initial bashful reaction when he had given John his belongings back, his face had been expressionless for the majority of the time, and he had barely spoken a word more than what had been absolutely necessary. The careful smiles he had offered John that evening had been reduced to mere twitches at the corners of his lips, and the twinkle in his eye had vanished, leaving behind a mere dull gaze. He had barely even looked at him, studying his nails instead as he was in the habit of doing, or looking straight past him when he did need to look up. The contrast was so stark against how he had been that other evening, when he had been kind and smiling, when he had given him compliments on his art, when he had asked him questions and had showed what had seemed at the time like genuine interest, and when he had even spoken about himself, that it made John wonder if perhaps he had done something wrong.

Sighing, he looked up at the sky and watched a couple of birds fly overhead as he felt the cold of the sea wind crawl into his clothes, making him shiver and hope he would see his dear friend sooner rather than later, longing to step inside somewhere warm and enjoy a couple glasses of gin to warm him up from the outside cold. To his luck, he soon heard a group of young sailors and seamen laugh and chatter with what John could only guess was the usual wit and mockery, as they strolled from one of the ships and over the docks into his direction, one of the voices being distinctly Richard's, with his typical bright and jaunty tone of voice - it never failed to bring a smile to his face. As soon as Richard's eyes fell upon the other man, his smile grew wider, stretching all across his face, and he called out his name, to which John replied with a polite wave, feeling rather self-conscious as the other men looked up at him curiously and said goodbye to Richard, who broke free from the group to join John instead. Once the men turned around to go further on their way, John teared his eyes away from them and turned to his friend, who pulled him in for a tight hug almost immediately, which John reciprocated just as firmly, having missed his dear friend.

"John! I had not expected to see you here! I hope you were not waiting for too long. If I had known you were coming, I would have made some haste," Richard spoke as he squeeze John firmly before releasing him, the big smile still plastered on his face. His big blue eyes sparkled up at John as he looked up at him, his gaze sweeping over his friend's features as if he could hardly believe it was him; he was clearly as happy to see him as John was.

"Don't worry about it, Richie! I don't mind waiting for you, and the weather is wonderful, so really it was no punishment to wait. Besides, I wanted to surprise you."

"And you did! How did you know I would be here today?"

"Stuart said he had received word that your ship was to arrive today, so I thought it might do well to welcome you back home. But how about we speak further someplace else? What about a drink? I could do with something to warm myself," John suggested and Ringo agreed right away, clearly eager to get someplace warm himself after having been on that ship for almost five months. They made their way to a nearby pub, situated just a two-minute walk away from the docks, that was mostly frequented by sailors, pursers, and the occasional officer or captain. It was a rowdy place, but warm and cosy with good drinks and even some easy-to-make foods if you were hungry and a couple of beds upstairs one could rent for about two pence a night if you were willing to share.

As they walked inside the small pub, Richard was greeted by a couple of men who had already taken a seat and were enjoying a drink of their own, talking with loud booming voices, as if they were still on the ship sailing the rough seas rather than sitting within close proximity of each other in a small English pub, enjoying a good drink, where they could speak at a reduced volume. Richard acknowledged the men with some polite words and a nod or a handshake, as he and John made their way to the back of the room to take a seat at one of the few empty tables that were still left. Once there, they took off their coats, hung them over the back of their seats and John waited until Ringo had taken a seat before offering him something to drink, intending to pay for it with the money Paul had given him about a week ago for his trouble that evening. He had not known what to spend it on, barely ever buying himself any kind of luxury, and knowing Stuart would not wish to drink anything that was paid for with money that was given to either of them by that family, his dislike for them and the assignment still not having mitigated since he had first learned about it almost two weeks ago. John doubted, however, that Ringo would mind, seeing as the sailor had a rather friendly and open-minded disposition; he would not have acted any differently if he had found himself in the same situation as John had.

Richard reacted with surprise at his offer, but simply smiled as he told him he'd have the same as he, and watched curiously as John walked off towards the bar to get them both a glass of gin, glad to be able to buy his friend something for a change, not having been able to do so since he had moved out of his little bedroom at his aunt's house. Once he came back, he put the two glasses down at their table and sat down on the wooden stool opposite Richard. The two made a toast to Richard's return and drank their drinks in one go, so John could buy them another one.

"So," Richard started once John returned for a second time and waited until he had sat back down before he continued, "how did you get by that money, if you don't mind me asking? Last time I saw you, you were sending it all to your dear aunt, if I am not mistaken."

"You are not." John chuckled. "And under normal circumstances I am, but you could say these are not normal circumstances."

"What is it then? Surely, you don't mean me."

"New client. A very well-off client, in fact."

"And who, might I ask, is this very well-off client of yours?"

"Mr. James Paul McCartney," John answered, smirking as he watched his friend's eyes grow wide at the mention of his name, his lips moving as he repeated the name quietly to himself. "Or rather, it was his father who commissioned it, but it is for the eldest son and I only ever have contact with him, you see. Mr. Edwards was supposed to originally take the assignment of course, but he had another pressing assignment that required him to leave Liverpool for a couple of weeks, so it was given to me instead."

"I can hardly believe it, John. An assignment for the McCartneys... How is that going? I can imagine it can be difficult at times?"

"At times. But in all honesty, it is not as bad as I had expected it to be. When Mr. Edwards first told me about it, I thought he had lost his marbles to ask that of me. I mean, you have heard the same stories about the family as I have, and to have to work with the eldest son as well, I thought I would be lucky if I would not end up in prison by the end of our first meeting, but thankfully, the young man seems to have taken a liking to me exactly for those faults that I had expected would ruin me. He himself is rather pleasant to work with too, you could say. Of course, his handsome features are a joy to draw for any artist, but he is far from that horrid, arrogant, and self-satisfied git that I had heard so much about. Of course, he is still all those things, but... it is not all there is to him. I can't quite describe it, if I am honest; the man is somewhat of a mystery to me."

"He fascinates you, then?"

"Yes, but every artist ought to be fascinated by their subject."

"And the money?" Ringo asked as he leaned closer to his friend, curious to hear more. John grinned.

"Another fascinating aspect of our Mr. McCartney," he said, lowering his voice so no one else could hear what they were discussing. "The usual payments go through his father and Mr. Edwards, so I have not seen any of that yet, nor do I know how much the McCartneys are willing to pay for this portrait of mine, but one evening the young man showed up at my doorstep completely unexpected, soaked through and shivering from the cold without any explanation. Naturally, I let him in and helped him get warm and dry, and before he left, he handed me some money for my troubles."

"Did he?"

"Oh, yes. It was the most curious thing. Of course, I initially refused his offering, but he insisted. Things like that make you wonder, don't they?"

"I suppose they do. Say, speaking of the McCartneys, have you ever visited their estate? Some of the gardens are free to the people of Liverpool, believe it or not."

"No, I haven't. We only meet at the studio. But that is hard to believe. Do you think Mr. McCartney senior is aware of that?"

"He probably does not mind because hardly anyone takes advantage of it. Most people have the tendency to keep away from them as much as possible."

"But not you?" John asked, amused, and took another sip of his drink.

"Nor you, it seems now. But you have to have seen it at least once. It is absolutely gorgeous. I often go there just for a walk and to get some fresh air; being on a ship for most of your life, makes living in a city somewhat claustrophobic at times, you know, so going for a long walk in those lovely lush gardens is a great way for me to handle it, and the gardens are so immense, I have barely ever seen any of the family members - they tend to keep to the gardens closer to the manor, so they are easy to avoid."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"

"You must have been the manor up close at least once, John, and the gardens are wonderful to walk through. Personally, I could use some fresh air," Ringo said with a shrug, causing John to laugh.

"Some fresh air?! I would have thought you would have gotten enough of that after having been on that ship for five months," he said, but Richard shook his head.

"The salty air of the sea is very different from the flowery air of a well-kept garden, John. Besides, I have had enough of this pub and we could talk while we walk. It is such a pleasant day. Let us find a coach to bring us there and go for a walk," he said with an excited smile and before John could object he had already gotten to his feet and was pulling on a coat. John sighed deeply, before agreeing to come with him. Besides, he was curious now what the McCartney estate would look like from up close, only ever having seen it up on that hill from the city below.

The two men quickly finished their drinks and put their coats back on before leaving the pub and making their way towards the manor house while keeping an eye out for any coaches they could rent to take them up to the manor. It only took them a few minutes, and before they knew it, John had paid for the ride with the last of his money and they were sitting closely together in the small coach as they drove up the hill. From the side window above the door, they could see the impressive manor house crawl up into view in the distance - it was a stunning sight, John had to admit, and he found himself unable to look away. They spoke some more about the McCartneys and John's assignment as the coach drove on, Richard being eager to hear all about it and John being glad to finally have someone with whom he could talk about it without needing to listen to any nagging about the family in response, not having been able to do that with Stuart or even Cynthia. He loved both friends deeply, but there were things he felt more comfortable to talk about with Richard.

Once the coach came to a halt, the two men hurried to get out of the coach and Richard paid the driver something extra as he asked if he would mind waiting here until they would be back, to which the driver easily agreed, much to Richard's surprise. John, however, did not much care about the driver or how they would go back home, his full attention having been captured by the impressive manor house so close before him, separated from him only by a large iron gate that refused to give when John pushed against it in an attempt to open it.

The manor house was gorgeous, more so even up close than when he had seen it from the city below, with gorgeous smooth sandstone that coloured golden in the light of the low-hanging autumn sun, and the many thick-glazed windows shined as they reflected the sunlight. In front of the manor, before the large, stone steps that led up to the front door, stood a gorgeous fountain of three layers with a statue of a gorgeous naked young woman, draped in long silk-looking sheets, balanced on top of it, holding up her hair as if she was afraid it would get wet. The details on it were magnificent, and John could hardly believe it was carved out of stone. He could see some men moving around before the house, who John suspected were servants, and he could even see one running around with a huge sheepdog, laughing as he tried to catch up with her. John wondered if the dog was Paul's.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind him, and John felt himself jump in fright, not having heard his friend approaching. "Come on. We'd better not stick around here for too long. The entrance to the gardens is a little bit more to the side," Richard continued and took a hold of John's arm to guide him away from the manor and along the stone wall that marked off the borders of the estate. John let himself be taken away, but kept his eyes on the house, taking in every little detail, until the house disappeared behind the trees on the estate. Once they reached the next gate, Richard released his friend and spoke with one of the men who stood by the gate in some kind of uniform. He had a dog by his side. They spoke for a short while, their voices too quiet for John to hear what they were discussing, but once John caught the unknown man smiling, Richard turned around to him to beckon him over. The man opened the smaller gate for them and wished them a pleasant afternoon as the two men passed him, only to close the gate again behind them once they were through.

"We are only allowed to be here for another hour. It seems the family is receiving some guests later this afternoon and they wished not to have any unfamiliar people on the grounds then. At first he would not allow us in at all, being ordered not to, but because he knows me he was prepared to make an exception," Ringo explained in a hushed voice as they walked on, feeling the eyes of the strange man still digging into their backs. Once they had vanished between the trees and were out of sight, the two men broke free from each other and started giggling, feeling as if they were doing something illegal by being there. They walked for a while, keeping to the winding paths that guided them through the many gardens, along the pretty coloured flowers, the tall trees with green, golden, and red leaves, and ultimately along the lake with the willows that stood hanging over it, simply taking in the beauty of it all. They could hear birds chirping and the soft wind rustling the leaves on the trees. John now understood why Richard had been so eager to go for a walk here.

"I have missed you, you know. While you were at sea," he told his friend as they stood turned away from the lake and went further into the more wood-like area, following the thin path that led between the trees. Richard smiled at the confession.

"I've missed you too. The sea might be my country and the ship my home, but my friends are something I always find myself wanting to go back for," he said truthfully, causing John to smile in return. It wasn't long, however, before the smile faded away again.

"You didn't erm... hear anything new, did you? I mean, I know you hadn't when you had sent me that letter, but you said you would still ask around if you had the chance..." John asked as he started fidgeting with the cuffs of his coat, pulling at the material nervously as he awaited his answer. Richard sighed before shaking his head.

"I am sorry, John. I did ask around, but no one had seen or heard anything about him - at least, nothing I hadn't already told you - nor could they name anyone who might be of any help."

"That's okay. At least you tried, and it is not like we had expected anything to come out of it. It doesn't matter."

"I promise I'll keep asking around. Surely someone must know something about him," Richard said and John smiled at him thankfully as he nodded.

"Thank you, Richie. I really appreciate this," John replied and Richard could see that he meant it, so he nodded in return and did not say anything more on the subject, much to John's relief, not feeling like discussing it any more than that. They spoke some more about Richard's adventures during those five months he had been away at sea and John filled in his friend on everything that had happened while he had been away, watching in amusement at his friends little reactions of excitement as he told him about how much Maureen had missed him during his absence. They had just been on their way back to the entrance of the estate, not wanting to get the person who had let them in the gardens into trouble, when they suddenly heard the sounds of hooves stomping on the leaves-covered ground underneath their feet, followed by a familiar voice that called out John's name.

"Mr. Lennon! What a surprise to see you here? Enjoying a late-afternoon walk, I see!" the voice called and John frowned as he slowly turned around and let out a tiny gasp as he saw it was none other than Mr. Paul McCartney, sitting high on a horse with a healthy flush on his cheeks, indicating he had probably been riding for a while. Even his breathing was heavier than normally.

"Mr. McCartney! We er... Yes, we were. Erm... This is my friend, Mr. Richard Starkey," he answered, trying his hardest to be polite. Paul turned his eyes on Richard and nodded at him as he wished him a pleasant afternoon, to which Richard replied with a smile of his own, wishing him the same.

"We are sorry to be here, sir," Richard said. "One of your servants had informed us at the gate that you did not want any visitors on the grounds today, but he said it would be alright for us as long as we stayed away from the manor and would not stay longer than an hour. We er... we were just about to leave, in fact."

"Oh, don't worry about it. My father is always a little apprehensive about strangers on the estate, but I can assure you, it is no trouble. I am the only one who ever comes in these parts. Neither my father, nor my brother are particularly fond of riding or going on long walks, so you are completely safe," Paul said with a somewhat forced smile, and John smiled back at him, hoping to be able to keep this from turning uncomfortable between the three of them. He had just been about to make some nonsense comment on the weather and the loveliness of the garden when he spotted a nasty-looking bruise just under the younger man's left eye, causing him to frown. Before he realised what he was doing, he had made a comment about it.

"You have a bruise on your cheek," he said, as he unconsciously took a step forward. Right away, the man's hand shot to his cheek, and he gently touched the spot with his fingertips, as if he were surprised it was there at all.

"Oh yes... I er... fell of my horse yesterday. It is not as bad as it looks, I assure you. One of the rose bushes broke my fall, thankfully, but sadly it did not leave me unscarred," he said with a light-hearted chuckle, but there was an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice that made John doubt he was being truthful. Still, he did not say anything about, knowing Paul did not owe him any kind of explanation, but still it struck him as odd.

"Well," Paul continued as he brushed a few hair out of his face, "I am afraid I must need to make my way back to the manor house. We have some important visitors coming this afternoon, so I must not be late, or my father will not be pleased with me. Mr. Starkey, it was nice to make your acquaintance, and Mr. Lennon, I shall see you the day after tomorrow, of course. These visitors will be staying for a couple of days, so I might be a little later than usual, but I assume that will not pose any problems, will it?"

"Oh no, sir. That is quite alright," John replied right away and Paul nodded in return.

"I take it you two know how to find your way back? And you have a carriage to take you back into the city? If not, I could offer you one of our carriages. I am quite certain my father would not mind it if you were to borrow one."

"Oh no, sir. Thanks for the offer, but that won't be necessary. We have a coach waiting for us by the entrance," Richard swiftly replied and Paul nodded again in understanding, before wishing them both a pleasant day and guiding his horse around to make his way back to the manor house. John watched him as he drove off, still wondering about the bruise. When he turned back to his friend, he noticed him grinning knowingly at him.

"What?"

"You. I can see you have taken a liking to him as well, haven't you?" he said teasingly with a wink. John simply rolled his eyes at the insinuation and took his friend by the arm before dragging him with him into the direction of the entrance gate while muttering how laughable the thought alone was to him, despite knowing that lying to his friend would not work - he had always had the uncanny ability to look straight through his lies, and so it would also be with this.

"Just promise me you'll be careful, John. Mr. McCartney is not just any young man, as I know you are well aware."

"I told you, I am not interested in him!"

"You did seem awfully concerned about his bruise, but if you say you are not interested, than I suppose I shall have to believe that. Such a pity, though."

"Pity? Why is it a pity?"

"Because you were right. He has taken a liking to you."

A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates lately. I have been so incredibly busy with assignments and essays and exams for university that I did not have any time to write and I just needed Christmas for myself to calm down from it all. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope to be able to post the next one this Saturday as per usual to close off his year. A very (late) Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you all had a lovely couple of days. <3