Author's note: So I'm going to be adding trigger warnings to all of the chapters. I should have been doing this all along and I apologize for overlooking it. This one's a tough chapter, and I've begun adding trigger warnings with this one for that reason, but happier times are ahead. I promise. Love you all.

TW: gun violence (I'd label it as graphic), death and injury, blood

Even a couple hours after his encounter with the White Room, Paul's head felt very full. His mind was brimming with two lives lived to the fullest. Paris the first time and Paris the second time seemed to play side-by-bye in his mind. He could hear the train ride home from Paris in the original timeline coming from somewhere; they were fighting. The train ride the second time around stuck out; they kissed whenever the train staff weren't looking.

He thought about it for as long as he could, until he was out of time. He tried to find something poetic in it all, but he couldn't seem to do it. In another life, the last thing John said to Paul before he was shot was, "Think of me now then, old friend." In this one, the last thing that Paul said to John before he got shot in John's place was, "JOHN, RUN!" He couldn't find anything poetic in it all because there wasn't any mind-shattering connection between the two. They were just different. It was all fucking different and Paul's brain was so full with it all.

Marching down to place where Marbella and Darren knew President Wilson to be hiding felt like they were the parade for their own burial.

Some part of Paul wished that John was with him, but mostly he was glad that he was away from the line of fire. And while he was unhappy that George was in the thick of it, he was also sort of glad to have George with him.

"You should have stayed back," Paul hissed.

George rolled his eyes. "As if."

Paul laughed.

George raised his eyebrows. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just..." Paul shook his head. "No matter how long I know you, you never cease to amaze me."

"Really?" George said. "I mean, in two whole lifetimes?"

Paul smiled. "In two whole lifetimes."

"Hey, Paul..."

"Yeah, George?"

"I died, huh? In the other timeline?"

Paul sniffled. "George, I —"

"Quiet, you two," Marbella huffed.

So they did as they were told for a while, until Yoko appeared at George's side and whispered, "Hey."

"Hey," Paul said. "You weren't supposed to follow us. You're injured."

Yoko rolled her eyes and adjusted her arm in its makeshift sling. "We're all going to die anyway."

George grimaced. "Okay. Dark."

Yoko raised her eyebrows at him. "And absolutely true."

Paul held out his arms so that they both stopped and he waited until Darren, Marbella, and the few others that were with them were several paces ahead to say, "Right, George."

"What's up?"

"Head back now."

"I told you no—"

"George," Paul huffed. "Come on."

"You're going," George hissed. "Yoko's going."

"I can't control what Yoko does," said Paul.

"You can't control what I fucking do —"

"Okay, but I've lived two lifetimes and so has Yoko," Paul quickly amended. "And you haven't. And you have a kid. And yes, you died, George."

"Whoa," Yoko said.

"You died and it was awful," Paul said, expecting his voice to break anytime now, and yet it remained incredibly steady. "So go get John and Ringo."

"John and Ringo are here?"

"You can track them with this." Paul shoved Barney's phone into George's hand. "John's still got one on him. So go and live. Please, you need to make sure John lives. Someone does."

George frowned. "Just come with me."

Paul clapped George on the shoulder. "This all started when they brought me here. And now I need to end it."

"Even this won't end it, though," George said insistently.

"I don't have time for this. I need to go. You need to find John and —"

"If you die John will kill me!"

"George!" Paul groaned. "He and Ringo are locked in a supply closet right now. You need to get them out, okay? You need to see to it they get out safely. Otherwise what have the last twenty years of my life been for?"

"What have the last twenty years of your life been for if you just die at the end of it all?" George looked angry. He was seething.

Paul just chuckled at him, though. "Everything if you all get out of." He punched his arm. "Go on. Save John and Ringo. Please."

George breathed heavily, looking back and forth between Paul and Yoko for a long time. Finally, he huffed and turned to storm away, but paused. "If I don't see you..."

"I know, Georgie."

"Yeah. Me, too, Macca."

"What am —"

George rolled his eyes. "Enough. Love you, too."

Yoko smiled. "Yeah. You too, George."

George hurried off in one direction while Paul and Yoko went in the other. They had to run to catch up to Darren and Marbella, and the stumbled to a halt when they found the two of them crouched against a wall, both with a gun at the ready. Paul and Yoko backed away, hesitating to draw their own guns.

"Where's everyone else?" Paul hissed.

"Sshhhh!!!" Darren and Marbella both gestured for Paul and Yoko to crouch against the wall with them, so they did. They were silent for a little while and Paul was starting to consider asking what they were waiting for when two F.H.O. agents rounded the corner. Darren and Marbella shot quickly then jumped up.

"Where the fuck did you go, McCartney?" Marbella huffed.

"Where's George?" Darren demanded.

"Long story," Paul lied. "Where's everyone else?"

"Doing their job," Marbella snapped. "And you. I told you to stand down."

Yoko shrugged. "I didn't listen."

Darren sighed. "We don't have time for this. We're going in. If you come you do, and if you don't, whatever." He nodded in the direction that the two F.H.O. agents had come from and then he and Marbella bolted away.

Paul and Yoko chased after them.

"He's close," Darren hissed.

"But why's he still here?" Yoko asked.

"He's got to send all the data they've got to the backup headquarters," whispered Darren. "I'd guess he'll be sending them to those other branches... And then I know for sure he's got to wipe it all from the main headquarters. He's got to make sure that the enemy cannot seize it."

"That doesn't sound good," said Paul, sounding worried.

"Not our main concern at the moment," Marbella grunted. "Come on. Follow me." She continued further down the hall and the rest of them trailed closely behind her, all the way into the center of a dimly lit computer room.

"Where is he?" Paul hissed, but Marbella and Darren both shushed him.

They made their way further into the room, a few more steps, and then —

The lights cut out and they were plunged into darkness. Paul cried out in surprise and, a moment later, his weapon was wrenched from his hand. There was a gunshot — Paul yelled again — another gunshot  — and then the lights came back up.

Darren was face down on the floor and Marbella was knelt at his side with her hands pressed into the side of his neck. Yoko was sprawled out on her back in the corner; Paul noted, with a sense of relief, that she was still moving, if only a little bit. Paul found himself, unarmed, face-to-face with the end of Wilson's gun. He didn't shoot his hands up, though he shook like a leaf. He doubted that the president cared if he were armed or not. He was going to kill him either way.

President Wilson laughed softly. "You know," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "You have impressed me. You really have."

Paul shook his head, but he couldn't find the words to say. Even if he could, there was a lump in his throat.

"Never in a million years did I think you would figure it all out," President Wilson tutted. "And, I mean... I was right. You did not figure it all out. But you got close. Closer than I thought you would, anyhow." He laughed softly again.

Paul still said nothing.

"Why so quiet?"

Paul blinked. "Why wait to kill me?" Someone made an exasperated noise behind him. It sounded like Marbella. But why did it matter now? What did anything matter now? "Why bring me back at all?"

Wilson shook his head. "I underestimated you. That was my only mistake."

"Far from your only mistake."

Wilson clicked a bullet into place. Paul flinched.

"You spent twenty years bumbling around and thinking you were making a difference," Wilson huffed. "No skills, no plan. You never should have been able to save him."

Paul shook his head. "I don't get it... You always wanted him dead... You made me... You... I don't get it."

Wilson nodded. "And you never will."

Heavy footsteps approached. Two figures appeared in the doorway. Someone screamed, "PAUL!"

Paul's eyes grew wide. "John, no," he breathed.

BANG! Wilson's gun went off.

"NO!" Paul lunged for the doorway at risk of Wilson shooting him. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He dropped to the ground next to where John lay, cradling his head in his arms. "John?" he gasped.

John groaned, clutching his shoulder. "Fuck," he hissed. "Hurts like bitch."

Paul held him closer. "Oh, god. Oh, god."

"Where's George?"  John whispered quickly, wincing when Paul held him even tighter. "I'm okay, Paul, I'm okay."

Click. "You're really not, Mr. Lennon."

Paul and John both looked up, both came eye-to-eye with Wilson and his gun.

"Isn't this cute?" Wilson laughed at them.

Paul eyed the door. It stood open just a few feet away, but he couldn't get away. Not without Wilson shooting him. Not without leaving John, which was not an option. It was never an option. He held John impossibly closer.

"You have been a thorn in my side for long enough," Wilson said lastly, his voice low and dangerous, then another BANG! rented the air.

President Wilson crumpled to the ground and landed with a dull thud in front of Paul and John. Behind where he lay stood George, over Yoko and with Yoko's gun in his hand. He quickly dropped it, pushing it as far away from him as he could get it.

"Yoko?" George said in a small voice, dropping down to try and wake her.

"She'll be okay," Marbella croaked weakly from where she knelt over Darren. "C'mere... help me... McCartney, can you get Lennon out on your own?"

Paul nodded slowly.

Marbella magicked up a floating gurney and George helped her get Darren out of the room.

Paul stayed where he was, with John held tightly against his chest, and couldn't quite remember how to move. He kept trying to let it consume it, to let himself feel it. But he couldn't.

"Paul?"

It didn't feel real.

"Paul, it's over."

Yoko stirred in the corner. Wilson laid, as still as was possible, in the middle of the room. John kept saying Paul's name, again and again, in a soothing tone.

It was finally over.