Author's Note: Full disclosure, songwriting/poetry is not my forte so I'm just taking more modern songs for songs that The Beatles/other artists are meant to be "writing" and we're gonna pretend like these aren't songs that have been released in the past ten years (there are a couple in there that are older than that). I'll do full credit at the bottom of the chapter to songs/songwriters who I base the song titles off of and if lyrics are used later I will continue to credit everyone wherever they are mentioned.

***

The collaborative album had been in progress for over two years by the time it was finally finished. It had been an adventure getting to where they no were, to where they finally were. Getting those last few songs done, though...

Carole King had been overall easy to work with.

Frank Sinatra was very particular about the way he worked and the way he wanted things done so that made things a little tough, but in the end they all liked the song, though they wound up doing a cover, that they got out of the process (and Sinatra even asked if he could cover a couple Beatles songs in the future, causing George to blush when he said that he had some excellent ideas for a new arrangement of Something).

The Kinks and The Rolling Stones both agreed to be part of the album. Ringo suggested that they ask each of these bands as that would put three of the four British Invasion bands on this one album, which he thought was pretty cool. The Dave Clark Five, unfortunately, had been broken up for five years (this didn't sit well with Paul because the first time round, living this life of his, The Beatles had also broken up five years ago).

At the party, some time after Paul and John had made up and ended their quarrel, Elvis had approached John to ask when he was finally going to "buck up and ask me to be a part of this collaborative project I've been hearing so much about". Then he laughed and said that hadn't come out exactly how he'd meant for it to. "Really what I'm trying to say is," he said to both John and Paul, "I'd like to be a part of your project, if you'll have me." And of course, John couldn't have dreamed of anyone better to be a part of their album.

George had suggested Pink Floyd and that ended up working out, and some time after that Paul suggested Fleetwood Mac and that had wound up working out. John had actually been the one to suggest they contact James Taylor.

Elton John had been a very reasonable man to work with, especially given that he still seemed to be starstruck by The Beatles' presence.

It was Queen who had been the most difficult to work with. It's just that Freddie, Brian, Roger, and Deaky were so in sync with one another in how they worked (even with Roger and Deaky having had to readjust to this whole livelihood). Similarly, John, Paul, George, and Ringo operated much like well oiled machinery. Now put two high-end machines that were not built to be one, put them together, and expect them to work as a unit and you get —

"Alright, do you have anything to show us that you might wanna work on together?" Paul asked when The Beatles and Queen got into their first meeting together. "We have some stuff lined up to show you, as well."

"Oh, well, we thought we'd just be writing a song together," Brian said, confused, and the rest of the band members of Queen looked puzzled as well.

"Well, yeah, that's certainly an option," said Paul. "We were just wondering if you had something that you thought might work so —"

"You're telling us you've got nothing?" John said, eyebrows raised.

"John, don't be rude," George sighed before Paul got the chance.

"Well, n-no," said Brian. "We have things... er..."

"I also thought we'd be working on something entirely new together," said Roger, and Deaky, who sat beside him, nodded.

"Yeah, we can do that," Ringo said. "I think that's a good —"

"Well, we have Freddie's cowboy song," said Brian. "That really long one you've been working on? We could play around with that."

"The — Freddie's what song?" George frowned.

"You know the one, Fred," said Brian. "It goes like, bum-bum-bum-bum BUM bum, bum-bum-bum-bum BUM bum..."

"No!" Paul cried.

"We can't do that one!" Deaky shouted at the same time.

Roger also protested with a, "No no no!"

"Absolutely not!" Freddie scoffed. "Brian, that is my song, my masterpiece!" He turned to the four Beatles. "I mean no offense, of course, but that song is like a child to me. It will be my pride and joy, I'm sure of it, so I cannot, in good conscience, share it."

John huffed, seemingly offended anyway.

"No, of course," Paul agreed. "You — you keep that one. I'm sure it'll be a good one. Legendary, even."

"Paul, how would you know that?" John hissed.

"Just — just shut up," Paul said, shaking his head. "Drop it."

A mess. Attach two machines that are not built to function along with one another and expect them to do just that, and you get a mess. But it worked out in the long run. So, at long last, they wound up with an album.

And so, it was July of 1975, The Beatles had just finished their long-time-coming collaborative album, and absolutely no one beyond the realm of the music industry knew anything about it. This meant that it was time to announce it, time to promote it. This, of course, could not begin if the album did not have a title.

George was the first of the four Beatles to come up with a title for the album — a rather clever title, he thought.

"No!" John shouted at George. "No, absolutely not! That's ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous!" George argued. "Can't you ever say what you think of something without being a total ass about it?!"

"The title of the album cannot be the song that Billy Joel wrote!" John exclaimed. "That's crazy talk!"

"But it makes sense," George huffed. "It's like, if his song is at the top of the album —"

"You wanna start the album with him?!" John cried in shock.

"I thought you said his music was growing on you," Paul sighed from where he sat in the corner, throwing his eyes in a circle. "And I like George's idea. I think it works."

"The kid is talented but first on the album?" John asked, wide eyed. "Seems a little ridiculous considering we've got Elvis on this album. We've got bloody Sinatra and you wanna start with Billy fucking Joel, Christ —"

"Well, exactly," Ringo said. "We can't start with the most legendary people that we've got, we need to build to that."

"Exactly," George said. "And it's like, if we start with Scenes From An Italian restaurant then the album goes on and it's all these different people in all these different styles and they're all, like, different little scenes."

"Ooh, I like it a lot!" Paul exclaimed.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Ringo said. "Let's do that."

"Majority rules," George said, throwing his arms into the air triumphantly.

John sighed. "I guess..."

"And then we also have to talk about the possibility of the," George began, "well, you know..."

Ringo frowned, looked to Paul and John to make sure he was the only one who did not, in fact, know. "Um... no? We don't?"

"Well, the possibility of, you know," George said, and he smiled. "A tour."

"A tour?" Paul said.

"Another one?" John said.

"How would we even do that we all this collaborative songs?" Ringo asked.

George smiled mischievously. "Oh, I was hoping you'd ask me that."

***

"When's the party going to be?" Yoko asked. She and Paul were sitting in the living room and John and Paul's place and she had an album held in her hands. The collaborative album. Not yet released to the public, there were only a handful of copies of this record in existence. Paul, of course, had one of these copies.

"What party?" he asked.

"The album launch party, of course," said Yoko.

"Oh, well, we haven't had one of those in years," Paul said. "Why would we start again now?"

"Well, it's a rather special one, don't you think?" she said, gazing down at the cover: matte black cover with shiny white letters that read, SCENES FROM AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT, with a drawing of a wine bottle sitting on type of the lettering. "I mean, what with everyone who's a part of it, it would probably be a pretty great party."

"We're not really partiers," Paul sighed. "Not anymore. And the last time we tried to throw a party, well, we all know how that turned out."

"Well, we don't all know," Yoko said. "I've no idea what you two fought about out there."

"Yes, well, never mind about that," Paul said.

"When's it getting released?" Yoko asked.

"A couple more months," Paul said. "Management is talking about December."

Yoko hummed. She flipped the album in hand over and looked down at the back. It was also a matte black base covered in shiny white lettering. It read:

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant feat. Billy Joel

Morning Comes feat. Paul Simon

Rivers and Roads feat. Elvis Presley

Come On Down feat. Queen

Moon River feat. Frank Sinatra

Hope feat. Carole King

Tomorrow Never Came feat. Fleetwood Mac

If I Had $1,000,000 Dollars feat. The Rolling Stones

The Way That I Need You feat. James Taylor

End of the World feat. Elton John

Free feat. Pink Floyd

Gotta Get Out feat. The Kinks

Sunrise, Sunset feat. David Bowie

"That's a good set of artists there," Yoko said approvingly. She looked up at Paul, nodding. "Seriously, this is a hell of an album."

"Just wait 'til you hear it," Paul said, grinning.

"Well, put it on, then," Yoko said, handing it over to Paul.

He nodded, taking it from her and moving across the room to where the record player stood on a table in the corner. "Hey," he said as he went about setting it up, "have you heard from Barney recently?"

Yoko shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, um, actually I have," she said, and she cleared her throat loudly before she went on. "Yes. Why do you ask? It's not exactly common for Barney to be checking up on me, it's usually Tessa who does that."

Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering," he said. "You know he's having another kid?" He set the record player into motion and the first track began.

"I — I didn't know that, no," Yoko said, shaking her head. "Good for him, though."

"Yeah, I was really just wondering how he and Lilly were doing," said Paul.

"A bottle of white, a bottle of red

Perhaps a bottle of rose instead."

"What did Barney need to see you for, then?" Paul asked. "Because it is usually Tessa who checks in on you, I was only curious."

"Well..." Yoko said, then she paused to breathe deeply.

"I'll meet you anytime you want,

In our Italian restaurant..."

"Yes?" Paul said, eyebrows raised.

"You're not going to like this very much," Yoko sighed. "It's been a week since I found out, I've been trying to keep it from you for as long as I could... but I've got to tell you sometime."

Paul frowned. "Okay, go on."

Yoko frowned back, but nodded.

"And the family's fine,

We lost touch long ago.

You lost weight and I did not know

You could ever look so nice

After so much time."

"The F.H.O. brought me in for the first time since... well, since they pulled me back in 1965, actually," Yoko said. "It's been... yeah, ten years since I last heard from them. And now, all of a sudden..." she trailed off, seemingly deep in thought.

"And now what, Yoko?" Paul asked, frowning.

"Brenda and Eddie were the

Popular steadys,

And the king and the queen

Of the prom."

"Paul, do you know if they've got faith in you?" Yoko asked. "The F.H.O., I mean. Do you think they believe you're going to be able to do this? To save John?"

"I mean, I think so," Paul said. "They haven't told me otherwise and they seem the type to take any chance to tell someone what they're doing wrong."

"Do they?" Yoko asked. "What guidance have they ever given you? They hardly speak to you except through Barney, so..."

"When they decided the marriage would

Be at the end of the July

Everyone said they were crazy

Brenda you know you're much too lazy."

"So what did they want from you?" Paul asked.

Yoko didn't answer right away.

"They got an apartment with a deep

Pile carpet

And a couple of paintings from Sears."

"They're relocating me," said Yoko.

Paul frowned. "What? Why? To where?"

"I don't know why, Paul," Yoko huffed. "That's why I was asking if you think they have their doubts about you, about your abilities to, you know, get the job done."

"Where are they sending you?" Paul asked through gritted teeth.

Yoko frowned when she looked into his eyes and said, regretfully, "New York City."

They fell into a painful silence, the only sound remaining in the room being Billy Joel's voice singing out across the living room, George's voice on harmony —

"They lived for a while in a

Very nice style,

But it's always the same in the end.

They got a divorce as a matter,

Of course,

And they parted the closest

Of friends.

Then the king and the queen went

Back to the green,

But you can never go back

There again."

"Why... why would they do that?" Paul asked. "Why would they want that?"

"I don't know, Paul," Yoko huffed.

"Yoko, why —"

"I don't know!"

"Well, what did they say?!" Paul cried.

"They just said it all plays into how John will be saved and how," she paused, swallowed hard, "how I'll be able to have him back."

"You'll what?" Paul snapped. "You'll be able to what?"

"I think that's just what they're saying to try and appease me," Yoko sighed.

"A bottle of red, a bottle of white,

Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight,

I'll meet you anytime you want

At our Italian restaurant."

The track ended and neither Paul nor Yoko said or did anything to fill the empty space that came about in between when the first song ended, and when the second song began, sending Paul Simon's voice flying out into the sitting room:

"Oh, oh, oh...

Found a good woman,

Found a job that pays.

The tide comes in

I watch it all wash away."

"Don't you think everyone should be telling us more?" Paul said suddenly. This was not the reaction Yoko had expected to get from him at all. "Like a whole lot more than they're telling us?"

"'Cause the devils in the details nd he's taking his toll,

Sending good men down the foot trails of some lost lonely souls..."

"It's really weird how the F.H.O. doesn't want me to know you're here," Paul said, shaking his head. "They think that'll somehow help in saving John. But really, if I didn't know it's you — as in you who knows all that you do — and all I knew was that you're kind of acting strangely... Wouldn't that just cause me stress, is what I'm getting at. And if you're stressed, if you're paranoid... well, then you're prone to fucking up."

"Yeah," Yoko said, frowning.

"And why didn't Marbella and Darren wanna talk to us more about Stu?" Paul said, growing angrier by the second. "That sounded important. That sounded like something we really ought to know more about. Surely they know more than they're telling us!"

"Paul, just remember that the more you dig the further you stick out your neck," Yoko said.

"'Cause the devil's in my hometown and I ain't telling him no,

'Cause it's my family, it's my love now, that's I'm scared to let go."

Paul frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means be careful," Yoko said sharply. "It means I don't want to see you get hurt trying to solve another mystery when we've already got a mountain's worth of those, and there are more important things to be thinking about and planning for. Like making sure John stays put, in England, for the next five-and-a-half years. Things like that."

Paul frowned. "We should know what's going on with the whole Stu situation," he said. "They brought him up. They said his name, but at the same time they didn't really say anything at all."

"Maybe it's best that way," Yoko sighed. "I just — I just wanna save John, okay?"

"Yoko, that's what I want!" Paul said. "You know that's what I want."

"Then focus on that," said Yoko. "Stay focused on that, and only that."

"If we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle then how can we properly focus in, Yoko?" Paul asked, glaring. "Besides, there are other pieces to this puzzle, it's not just John and the lot of us. There's so much injustice —"

"Not your problem," Yoko said, and Paul fell silent for a few moments, trying to properly process what he'd just heard.

"Rain don't change the sun,

And jealous is the night when the morning comes,

But it always comes."

"It is," Paul said. "It's our problem. We've been affected by them, we got ripped from our lives, from the lives we had built. No one asked if we were okay with that. We weren't given a decision, we weren't given the option to go home..."

"But we were given then opportunity to save John's life," Yoko said.

"Yeah, but what if his isn't the only life we should be trying to save?" Paul said.

Yoko rose to her feet very quickly, and Paul followed suit so as to maintain eye contact. "I'm going to leave now, I think," she snapped, turning and heading for the door.

"That's it?" Paul said. "You're just gonna leave and —"

"I can't believe after everything that all of us have been put through, John is not your number one priority in all of this mess," Yoko huffed.

"He is my number one priority!" Paul exclaimed. "When did I say that he wasn't?"

Yoko turned and looked at him, her lips pursed. "You're getting distracted, Paul. I can see it. You're just too close to the situation to recognize it."

Paul frowned. "Yoko, I think you're overreacting."

"Easy for you to say," Yoko snapped. "You're not the one getting shipped off to America, alone, next week because the F.H.O. has run out of faith that Paul McCartney will inevitably be the hero. For once, I'm starting to agree with them." And without another word, she stalked away and left the house with a slam of the front door.

Paul sank down slowly to sit on the arm of the couch, frowning deeply to himself.

"So if you ever feel like you are alone,

After the night

The morning comes."

Paul sat, still and silent, as John's voice mingled with Elvis Presley's voice. The third track began, and Paul rose to his feet.

"A year from now we'll all be gone,

All our friends will move away,

And they're going to better places

But our friends will —"

Paul turned the record player off and removed the album from its place. He slipped the vinyl back into its sleeve and set it down gently on the coffee table with a sigh.

He moved from the living room to the kitchen and he set to work making tea for himself. He was setting the kettle on the stove when he heard the front door open, so he took it off the stove and added water to it so that he could make two cups of tea.

"Hello, love," John said when he entered the kitchen. He walked up behind Paul, wound his arms around his husband's waist. "How's your day been?"

Paul shrugged.

"Is everything okay?" John asked.

"Yes," Paul lied, turning the stove on.

John frowned. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about," Paul said; another lie, of course. He shook his head.

John frowned a little deeper. "Okay," he said, and held onto Paul a little tighter. "Well, I'm here if you do want to talk."

Paul sighed. He laid his hand over John's hand where it was placed on his side. "Thank you."

"Of course," John said. He kissed Paul's shoulder gently.

"I love you," Paul whispered, voice thick.

John smiled. He placed a kiss to the spot below Paul's ear. "Love you," he said softly, gently.

"And you are my world," Paul said. "My everything. My... my first priority."

"And you're mine," John said, his tone one of reassurance. "Are you okay, Paul?"

Paul sniffled. "Never better, dear."

"Okay," John said, accepting this answer even though he didn't believe it one bit. He hugged Paul a little tighter.

***

Paul walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night, a few days after his quarrel with Yoko, and he came face-to-face with Barney. "Hello," Paul greeted his friend. "How are you?"

"Oh, hi," Barney said. "I was just about to come up and get you."

"Couldn't sleep," Paul said, shrugging his shoulders. He'd been having trouble sleeping for the past couple of nights. "I heard you arrive."

"Ah, I see," Barney said. He frowned. "Is... is everything okay?"

"No," Paul said, and he breathed a sigh of a relief. It felt good to finally admit that, to finally say it out loud, to put it out into the world that no, things were not okay. Nothing was okay and nothing had been okay for a very, very, very long time. That one little word lifted weight off of Paul's shoulders like you wouldn't believe. More weight than even Paul had known that he was carrying.

Barney leaned against the counter, one foot kicked over the other, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Alright, talk to me, Paulie," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Yoko came and talked to me the other day," Paul said, frowning.

"Oh, yes," Barney said, matching Paul's frown. "That's actually what I'd come to talk to you about, just in case she hadn't already said something."

"Why are they moving her to New York?" Paul asked.

"They're not so sure you're going to be able to save John," said Barney. "Not on your own, at least, because keep in mind they do think that you're on your own. Mostly. I mean, they think that you've got no clue about Yoko being here, and I'll be honest, the way they talk about George isn't very kind. They look at him like he's leverage, something to dangle over your head."

"Well, obviously," Paul sighed. "He doesn't know about any future, not even five minutes into the future, so they don't think he can do anything. I've recognized this all along but George insisted on becoming part of the team, even though he knew that — never mind, that's not my main focus right now." He squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to massage his temple, then he looked back at Barney. "I just... I don't get it. They should want John to stay away from New York, so why send someone there who he knows? Who he's friends with? Who they seem to be worried he'll fall in love with? I mean, they got on me about having her around. Said I should be worried that she'll snatch him out from under me. Clearly they think something could happen between, could be happening between them, so why send her?"

"They've been saying it's insurance," said Barney. "In case you fail and he winds up in New York in December of 1980. There'll be someone there to, I guess, shepherd him away from the scene of the crime."

Paul sighed. "I guess..."

"Something else is bothering you," Barney said. It was not a question.

Paul sighed. "Stu. The files on Stu."

"Oh, we talked about that a couple months ago," Barney said, eyebrows raised.

"Going on a year ago for me," Paul said.

"That's the last time I saw you, isn't it?" Barney asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Paul confirmed.

"Oh, Paul, I'm so sorry," said Barney. "You know I try not to go too long without popping in, especially after all those years when I scarcely checked in."

"No, Barney, don't worry about it," Paul said. "It's been a long time since I didn't get what it was you have to go through on the other side of things. Oh, by the way, how's Lilly doing? Are you gonna have a baby anytime soon?"

"Oh. yeah, Lilly's near to bursting," Barney said, and for a moment, he smiled.

"That's very exciting," Paul said, returning his smile, but it faded quickly. "But, erm, Stuart..."

"Oh, right," Barney said. "Yeah, um, here's the thing, Paul."

Paul's brow creased anxiously.

"I have no idea about any of that," Barney said. "Marbella doesn't seem to know more than what she's told us, and I sort of believe her."

"You do?" Paul asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yeah," Barney said. "Look, I've been working with her for a couple of years now. I've had to build some kind of trust along the line. She doesn't seem to know anymore than what she was involved in. She realized he was still alive and she knew he was meant to be dead so she thought she might do some digging, see if she could get him involved but he didn't want —"

"What do you mean she found out he was still alive?" Paul interrupted.

"She, um," Barney said, frowning, "found out? I don't know how else to explain that. She... realized? She was... made aware of the fact that he was alive? What kind of question is that, Paul?"

"But the Shadows were the ones who saved his life," Paul said.

"Um," Barney said. "No."

"That's what Stuart told me," Paul said. "When I saw him in, like, I think it 1962? Maybe it was 1963, I don't know. It's been a long time."

"He said that the Shadows are the ones who saved his life?" Barney asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Paul said, nodding.

"That's... odd," Barney said. "Because Marbella insists she doesn't know how that came about." He frowned. "I'm gonna do some digging. I'll be in touch soon."

"Barn—" Paul tried to get his attention before he could disappear into thin air, but it was already too late. Barney was gone, and Paul was alone to wallow in his thoughts once more.

***

Barney sent a message to Paul's phone the following night.

Talked to Darren. We're going to keep an eye on this. I'll let you know when I know more.

Paul sighed. He shoved the phone back into its hiding space in the floorboard before burying his face in his hands and letting out a long groan. "This is a mess, this is a mess, how did everything get to be such a mess," he said, feeling like he was on the verge of tears.

The following week, Yoko left for New York City. She said her goodbyes to George and to Ringo, but she did not say goodbye to Paul and, as a result, she did not say goodbye to John.

"So Yoko just up and moved to America?" John asked. "Why?"

Paul and George glanced at one another, cursing themselves for not thinking that maybe, just maybe, John and Ringo might have questions about the move.

Ringo shrugged his shoulders. "Said she got some job or something," he said.

"What does Yoko even do?" John asked.

"We met her at an art show, John," Ringo huffed. "What do you think she does?"

"She's an artist?" John said.

"Do you pay attention to anyone but yourself?" Ringo asked.

"Yes, I do," John said.

"Anyone but yourself and Paul?" Ringo asked.

"Oh," John said, and he shrugged. "Sometimes."

"I'm happy for her," Ringo said. "She got an opportunity, she ran with it."

"But she didn't say goodbye to me or Paul," John huffed.

"She what?" George said, looking to Paul in shock.

Paul sighed, "Yeah, no. She sort of just up and left."

"I didn't even know she was moving," John said.

"She told me last week, but," Paul sighed, shrugged, "she didn't come round to say goodbye."

"Well, why not?" George asked, frowning.

"Well," Paul said. "We sort of had a row last week after she told me that she was moving to New York."

"Wait, you did?" John asked, turning fast to look at him. "But the two of you never fight, you —"

"We've had the occasional quarrel," Paul said, shrugging.

"But — but to not say goodbye before she moved out of the country?" John said, brow creased. "That's... that's a lot."

Paul just shrugged again. He didn't say anything else. He leaned down and snapped his fingers, beckoning Martha from where she was curled up in front of the fireplace. She came trotting toward him, sprawling herself across his feet and waiting expectantly for him to give her his undivided attention, which he did.

"Paul?" John said.

"Hm?" Paul hummed, not looking up from scratching behind Martha's ear.

"Paul, do you wanna talk about it?" John asked.

"No," Paul said shortly.

"Alright, we won't, then," said George.

"Well, hold on just a second," John said. "You're upset about it, we should talk about —"

"Or we should let him fucking breathe because he's upset," George snapped. "Let's talk about the tour, hm?"

"Yeah," Ringo said. "The tour."

"What about the tour?" John sighed.

"Oh, come now, John," Ringo said. "No need to be like that."

"Oh, you want to go on tour all of a sudden, do you?" John said to Ringo, eyebrows raised.

"Actually, I do," Ringo said. "Yes. I'm rather excited for this one."

"Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley have both turned us down but we expected that from the very beginning," said George. "But it was the polite thing to do, extending the invitation and all."

Paul hummed, still scratching behind Martha's ears. Martha seemed perfectly content to act as a distraction.

"Carole King is on the fence and Paul Simon hasn't gotten back to us yet," George said. "James Taylor said no, and most of the rest have already booked tours that conflict with how we want this one to be scheduled, but that's alright. We planned this with the idea in mind that there wouldn't be a whole lot of people to haul around on tour busses and planes. But, so, Elton John and Billy Joel are both very enthusiastic about the whole idea. Freddie and Brian were on the fence but Roger and Deaky talked them into it. And... erm... David Bowie has also said he'd like to be involved."

"Of course he would," John sighed. He rolled his eyes.

"John, why are you never excited about anything we do anymore?" George huffed.

"I don't know, George," John said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe I'm just getting old, growing tired of being a Beatle."

Paul's breath hitched and, without warning, he broke down sobbing.

"Oh, Paul," Ringo said gently.

"Oh, Paulie, no," John said. He sat down at Paul's side and wrapped an arm around him. "Paul, I'm not serious. I'm just a dick, an utter and complete arse. I'm sorry." He wrapped his other arm around Paul as well, hugging him tightly. He glanced up and caught sight of George looking shellshocked, scared even, and he frowned. He hadn't realized how hard that was going to hit. He hadn't even thought twice about it. "I didn't mean to upset you, Paulie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"George," Ringo said softly. "I think it's time for us to go."

George frowned, but he nodded. "Yeah, I told Pattie I'd be home soon and it's a long drive, so..." He shifted uneasily. "See you later, Paul. Bye, John," he added, then he and Ringo made their leave swiftly.

Paul's shoulders still shook, just a little, in time with the sniffles and small gasping breaths. After a while, he stilled.

"Paul?"

No answer.

John sighed. "Paulie."

Paul hummed.

"Wanna talk?"

"No."

"But we should —"

"Don't wanna —"

"But —"

"John —"

"Paul, maybe —"

"John, I do not want to talk about this right now so just lay off and —"

"Maybe this tour isn't the best thing for you right now!" John spoke over him.

"No, I wanna go on tour," Paul huffed. He ripped himself away from John's arm. He stalked away and Martha followed closely behind him, lapping at the heels of his shoes. "I need a distraction right now now."

"That's just the thing, Paul," John said, and he jumped up onto his feet as well. "If you're looking for a distraction then that means something's wrong and if something's wrong —"

"Then I should distract myself from it," Paul snapped.

"Then you should deal with," John corrected. "Paul, the last time things got really bad you were barely eating and —"

"Oh my god!" Paul yelled. "You haven't let go of that yet?! You haven't —"

"Well, you could've died —"

"I was nowhere close to death!" Paul screamed.

"Paul!"

"John!"

"I worry about you!" John said. He stepped toward him.

"Well, don't!" Pau yelled, jumping back, keeping his distance. "I'm — I'm leaving."

"What?!" John cried.

"I'll be back," Paul said.

"When?" John asked, panicked. He followed Paul to the entranceway.

"I don't know," Paul said, frowning. "I need to take a drive, clear my mind." He slammed the door behind himself before John got the chance to say another word. He got into the car and peeled off into the road, racing down it.

He drove and drove and drove until he had to pull over because his tears were blurring his vision so badly he couldn't see where he was going anymore. And then he pulled over, threw the door open, and tumbled out on the grass. He fell to the ground, palms pressed into the dirt, and he sobbed.

"Everything — has — gone — to — shit!" he choked out.

And he laid there, the sorrow and rage coursing through him thicker than his blood. He laid there, and he sobbed, until his tears had dried out. He laid there until he felt numb. 

***

Lyrics used in this chapter: Scenes From An Italian Restaurant is actually a song by Billy Joel. The other lyrics are from Morning Comes by Delta Rae.