MAY 1970

"It's happening."

Martha barked.

"It is, it's really happening."

Martha barked again.

"I can't believe it! I mean, today's the day."

Martha barked once more, louder this time.

"The day is really here..."

Martha resorted to whining, thinking that maybe that would get her somewhere and it did. Paul turned away from the mirror built into his dresser.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear," he said, a smile spreading widely across his face. "I didn't mean to ignore you," he sighed and he began scratching behind her ears. "I just can't believe I'm getting married, is all. It's been a long time since I've been married, and John doesn't know about any of that, of course." He chuckled to himself. "It's just..." he kept on petting Martha, looking off into space, getting lost inside his head. "You know, I love John so much. I really do, there is no denying that. I feel like I always have to keep saying it, though, over and over... and I hate that today is the day that I — I mean, I suppose it makes sense really. Because if it weren't for all this — if it weren't for him and me and if it weren't for the F.H.O., I mean... well, Linda and I would've been married about a year ago, now."

Martha leaned in, sniffing at Paul's suit jacket.

Paul shook himself and laughed. "Well, look at me. Talking to a dog," he sighed. "But then again, you're not just any dog are you... You're Martha, my dear."

Martha barked in his face.

"At least, I think you are," Paul sighed. "I didn't find you in enough time, and I found you somewhere else. But you look just like her, you know. I think you're the same dog."

Martha gave him a great big lick across his face.

Paul smiled. "Yeah, you've got to be. At least, that's what I'm going to tell myself, anyway."

"Knock, knock," someone said as they knocked at the door, then poked their head in.

"George," Paul said, smiling.

"Hello," he said, entering the room and shutting the door behind himself. "Ringo suggested I go check on John and he come see you. I managed to switch it around in case you were freaking out for... certain... reasons."

"Oh, right," Paul laughed anxiously.

"I... I don't know if I should say it," George said. "But I suspect you've been thinking about — well, just with today being what it is — I mean, what with you doing what you're going to do today and all, I just thought that — I really should just keep my mouth shut, actually. I think. I'll go."

"No, George," Paul said. "It's fine. You're right. I am... thinking."

"About..." George said slowly, and trailed off.

"Her," Paul said.

George heaved a sigh. "Right, okay, yeah. So that's what I was thinking. But I didn't want to, like, say it."

"Yeah," Paul sighed. He sat down at the foot of the bed. John was getting dressed in their shared bedroom, so he was in one of the guest bedrooms. He began to pet Martha absentmindedly once more.

"Do you — do you wanna talk about it?" George asked.

"I... I don't know," Paul said. He shrugged.

"What was her name?" George asked.

Paul sighed and told himself, No. He didn't think that he could handle talking about her. Not on that day, maybe not ever. The last time he had said her name out loud was... God, it was in 1966. He wouldn't say it, he couldn't say it, but then he found his lips forming of their own accord and he heard his own voice say: "Her name was Linda. And she was..." he paused, smiled, swiped the tears from his cheeks, "amazing."

George smiled. "How did you meet?" he asked.

"I..." Paul sighed. "I don't want to talk about Lin— about. Not today. Maybe not ever, I'm not really sure, I — I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," George said. "I was just thinking if you wanted to talk about her, I'm here. If you don't, that's fine, too."

"Thank you, George," Paul said, nodding. "Where would I be without?"

"Living on the streets," George quipped.

Paul laughed. "Yeah, yeah... that's probably true."

George grinned. "C'mon. You're getting married."

"Yeah," Paul said. He stood and headed toward the door.

"Paul?"

"Hm?"

"Ring."

"Shit." Paul bounded back across the room to the dresser. He snatched up the ring and slipped it into his pocket. "Okay, I think I'm ready now."

"I think so, too," George said and he smiled. "C'mon, then."

George led Paul, accompanied by Martha, downstairs and out into the backyard. It was beautifully decorated, flowers and ribbons placed all about. There were Christmas lights strung up with cutouts of birds woven in alongside them. They had a table set aside for the champagne which their guests — the very few guests that they had, that is — had already cracked into.

It was simple. It was small. But it was theirs.

Ringo was there with Maureen and the baby.

(Paul felt bad because he would often refuse to hold Lee unless there was no one else around and Ringo really needed to hand her off to someone so that he could get something done. He knew this didn't make Ringo particularly good and he felt just awful about it because it's not like he could very well explain why that was, but it was still hard for Paul to know that Ringo should have had two other kids. And looking at little Lee still made Paul think about the children he was supposed to have, and the ones that John was supposed to have. That was hard.

Paul suspected that Ringo sometimes pretended like he needed to get something done at that very moment so that Paul had no choice but to hold her for a little while.)

George was there, of course, and he had brought Pattie along.

(Now, there was a tough situation that Paul didn't really know what to think of. George had met Pattie under different circumstances, had married her three years later than he was meant to have done, and neither of them knew Eric Clapton nearly as well as they had done the first time round. Paul thought that maybe things could work out well for them this time, and even if they didn't there was still Olivia.

That was the other thing. If they didn't get divorced, then George would never meet Olivia.

It was all so much to think about and Paul didn't know whether to hope they wound up divorced or to hope they lived happily ever after.

But then, Ringo had approached Paul at George's wedding several months earlier, drink in hand while he sadly sighed, "They'll never last," so perhaps it was a bit obvious what their fate was to be.)

Mike was there.

(Mike had taken the news about Paul and John's long-term romantic involvement very well, much to Paul's relief. He had said that he'd always suspected just a little bit. And then he had wholeheartedly agreed to attend the wedding, and surely enough, there he was.)

Yoko was there, of course.

(Yoko was... Yoko. She was the same as she always was; all was well.)

And John.

Paul smiled as he approached John. He walked right up to him and laced their fingers together. "Hello."

"Hello, there," John said and he grinned from ear to ear. "Hey, if you don't mind my asking, have you got any plans today?"

"Ummm," Paul said thoughtfully. "No, no. I don't think so. I do believe my schedule is wide open, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well, I was just wondering if you might want to marry me on this fine afternoon," John said in a casual tone. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, that sounds like a fine way to pass the time," Paul said cheerfully.

John laughed. "We're really gonna do this, then."

"We really are," Paul said.

Their guests had gathered around them now. They supposed that this was it, then: the ceremony. It was a rather unorthodox wedding so there really weren't any rules as to how it had to begin.

"This'll be simple, folks, because the United Kingdom is never going to recognize us as a married couple," John said. "Well, maybe one day," he added and he barked out a laugh, as did most of their guests. "Not in any of our lifetimes, though."

Paul and Yoko exchanged a quick glance, smiling secretively.

"Paul," said John, "one night, several years ago, in a hotel room in Paris, I almost puked because I told you that I loved you and you ran away. Lucky for me, you came back. Thank you for coming back, by the way," he laughed.

Paul laughed, too. "You're welcome, yeah,"

"Paul, I..." John sighed happily. "I promise to love you and take care of you and all of that. Because you're everything to me."

Paul blinked back tears. "John... What can I say? I'm sorry for running away in Paris. I'm glad I went back. I'm so glad that I went back."

"Yeah, me as well," John laughed.

"Shut up, let me say my vows," Paul said, unable to conceal his own laughter. "You've had your turn."

"Alright, alright," John said. "Go on, then."

"Yes, well, I'd like to do it properly," Paul said. He took the ring from his pocket and held it out, waited for John to lift his hand, and then, once he'd done so, he slipped the silver ring onto John's wedding finger. "Thought you should have one as well. They match." Paul said, grinning.

"That's lovely," John said. "Just lovely, Paulie."

"John Lennon," Paul began, "I take you to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish..." He found himself regretting going for the traditional vows all at once as the words, "till death do us part" passed his lips.

"You sap," John said, grinning.

Paul rolled his eyes and shook dark thoughts of John dying from his head. "Be serious for just a moment. This is our wedding, you know."

"Yeah, I'd noticed, actually," John said. "Paul McCartney... Basically... I do."

"Basically," Paul snorted. "I do."

"Right, will you kiss me now?" John asked.

"Oh my god," Paul said, rolling his eyes. He threw his arms around John's neck and pulled him in. When they were through with their kiss, Yoko seemed to have disappeared from the very small crowd.

Paul and John accepted all the words of congratulations from the people who were there to support them. Paul waited until he had spoken to each of them before he pulled George aside to ask where Yoko had gone off to.

"She went inside," George said, frowning. "I think she's a bit upset."

Paul sighed. "Right," he said. He told John that he would be right back and then he disappeared into the house. He thought he might have to go looking for Yoko, but she was right there in the kitchen.

"Paul," she said. "Hi."

"Hello," Paul said. "Um, George said that you seemed upset?"

Yoko shrugged. "It's a lot."

"Yeah," Paul said, nodding. "I... I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say," Yoko said, shaking her head. "I'm upset. And I'm also very happy for you."

Paul nodded looking down at the floor. "Thanks..." he said, and he thought that maybe he should say more, but he trailed off and let the room fall into silence.

"Paul?" Yoko said.

"Yeah?" said Paul, still staring at the floor.

"We're good," said Yoko.

Paul looked up at her then. "Are we?"

"We're good," Yoko said again and she nodded. "This was settled a long time ago."

"I know," Paul said.

"So stop feeling guilty about it," Yoko said. "The cards we've been dealt are odd to say the least. Live with your choices and I shall live with mine. Move on."

Paul smiled. "You're a pretty great friend."

"I am," Yoko agreed.

***

AUGUST 1970

"Can you believe this'll be our fourteenth album as a band," John mused in bed one night. They'd be going into the studio the following morning to, as John had just said, begin recording the fourteenth Beatles album.

"I can't, actually," Paul said, breath shaking. "It's sort of amazing."

"Well, don't go crying about it," John laughed. "I mean, it's not number fifteen. It's not number twenty." He unwound his arm from around Paul so that he could reach to the end of the bed and grasp the covers. He pulled the comforter over the two of them. "Can you get the lamp?"

"Yeah," Paul said, leaning over the bedside table and flicking the little button on the lamp's edge, plunging the two of them into darkness. "Number fourteen," he sighed, smiling.

In the morning, they were in the studio. They were setting up, getting ready to start, and Paul couldn't stop his hands from shaking. There was already bickering going on that Paul couldn't bring himself to pay attention to at the moment.

Paul hadn't realized until they got into the studio, but he was kind of terrified. This was new territory. There had been a lot of new shit this time around, but that had all been in Paul's personal life; that had been all of the shit with John, and all of the things that had gone awry in George and Ringo's lives, and those sorts of things. But his career — The Beatles — that had all stayed mostly the same (apart from English Tea winding up on The White Album because he'd been singing it when, perhaps, he shouldn't have and John had overheard. This, though, was brand new. The fourteenth album.

"Ringo, we just don't do that anymore," John sighed. "We've not covered a song on one of our albums in — God, it's been years."

"Well, you know what they say, there's no time like the present," Ringo said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think it's good," said George.

John sighed again. "Do you, George?"

"Yeah," George said and shrugged. "This one feels like something. I can't quite put my finger on it but it does. The song fits."

John turned around. "What do you think, Paul?"

"I think," Paul said, "that this is our fourteenth album. That's special."

"It's not that special, Paul," John said.

"It's special," Paul insisted. "I think it's special. And I think we're the fucking Beatles. And I think we can do whatever we want with our album. I think fuck, yes, do a cover. Let's make it the first song on the bloody album."

"Are you okay, Paul?" George asked.

"I'm great," Paul said, nodding. "I've never been so great."

"Right, then," John said. "I guess we're starting with Sentimental Journey."

"Yes," Ringo said, heading into the recording booth.

"Seriously, Paul, why's this album so important to you?" John asked him.

Paul shrugged. "Can't explain it. Just feels like a special one."

John sighed again. "Well, alright."

Later in the day, when George said he was going to take a smoke break, Paul followed after him. He found him on the sidewalk outside Abbey Road Studios, cigarette in between his fingers, pressed to his lips.

"I don't wanna hear your lecture about smoking and how it kills," George huffed. "It's one ciggie."

"I know, but —" Paul sighed.

"Paul, I said I don't wanna hear it today," George snapped. "I don't need it right now, I'm stressed out and you're always on me about it. I mean, you're always on me about —" George stopped speaking very abruptly. He stayed there for a long while.

Paul said down next to him very slowly. "George?"

"I..." George began, but then he just sighed and threw the cigarette into the gutter.

They sat in silence for another minute or so until Paul figured that one of them needed to say something... Anything... "Um," he said, "you know, littering is really bad, too, so like —"

"Paul."

"Sorry."

"Today's been a lot to take in," George huffed. "It's been a lot to take in."

Paul nodded slowly. "I... I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," George sighed.

"Isn't it, though?" Paul asked.

"Let It Be was our last album, wasn't it," George sighed.

"No, we're recording an album right now," Paul said.

"No, no, I mean," George sighed again. "I mean the first time around. I mean, how you remember things the first time you lived through all of this. Was it our last album?"

There was a beat of silence before Paul nodded and said, "Yes. Yeah, it was."

"Right," said George. "Well, this is unprecedented, then."

"I mean," Paul said, and shrugged, "yeah. It's really weird. To be recording a new Beatles, I mean. Like, everything has been the same for such a long time."

There was another beat of silence before George asked, "Why was it our last album?"

Paul sighed. "The band broke up, George."

"But why?" George said. "We're so great together."

"A lot of different things," Paul sighed.

"Things that are different this time," George said thoughtfully. "Right?"

"Some things," Paul said, nodding.

"You and John?" George asked.

"That was a big thing, yeah," Paul said.

"You weren't together," George said thoughtfully.

"We weren't friends for a little while there," Paul said.

"Wait, what?" George said.

"Yeah," Paul sighed.

"But — no, that doesn't make any sense!" George said, shaking his head. "No, no. It's you and John. John and you. You can't have just... what? Not spoke to each other?"

"John and I went about six years without speaking, George," said Paul.

George scoffed. "No. Impossible."

Paul shrugged. "I'm telling the truth."

George looked at him in disbelief for a long time before he finally nodded and said, "Okay." He got to his feet. "Let's make this album bloody fucking perfect, then," he said, determined, then turned and marched back into the studio.

Paul sat there, on the sidewalk, for a long while, his hands shaking. He was pretty sure that George had figured out how he was supposed to die just then — or, at least, how he had died the first time around. Paul had been trying to prevent that for years now. Maybe this would sway George enough that it was save his life, but Paul also didn't like the idea of his friend knowing that Paul had to live through his death once.

***

DECEMBER 1970

Paul was standing in the kitchen all alone, watching the clock as time ticked away slowly. He leaned against the counter and just... just watched as each second clicked by, thinking that perhaps he was being a little melodramatic. After all, it wasn't like it was the day. But still, it felt weird. It felt like it meant something.

Paul watched the clock strike 10:50pm and he inhaled sharply. "Alright," he whispered aloud to himself. "I've got ten years to make everything right."

***

MARCH 1971

Yoko was smiling down at the record in her hand, the sleeve of which had the word FOURTEEN printed across the top of it in big lettering. The album cover was a picture of the four of them sat together, John sitting on a couch and Paul sitting on the back cushions of the couch, with George and Ringo sitting back to back on the floor in front of the sofa.

"Fourteen?" Yoko said.

"Yeah, I kept going on about how special it was that it was our fourteenth album while we were in the process of making it," Paul laughed. "John and Ringo didn't get way, but it kind of stuck."

"Huh," Yoko said, and turned it over in her hands to read the back of the sleeve. "Good songs."

Paul laughed. "It's a cool album," he said. "Really fucking weird to do."

"I can only imagine," Yoko sighed. She laid the record down on the coffee table in front of her and took a moment to take it in.

Sentimental Journey

Junk

My Sweet Lord

Teddy Boy

Imagine

All Things Must Pass

Nobody Told Me

Take It Away

Give Peace a Chance

What Is Life

Another Day

In Spite Of All The Danger

"I think it's a pretty good set," Paul said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Yoko agreed. "Nothing new."

"I disagree, actually," Paul said. "I think it's all very new. Nothing sounds exactly as it did the first time around for the two of us because, well, it's not exactly the same. It's all these lyrics and chords but now it's The Beatles."

"Yeah," Yoko said, expression unreadable.

Paul frowned, and feelings of guilt began to set in. On one hand, he didn't want to ignore those feelings. His whole life had been uprooted and tossed sideways because of the F.H.O. but Yoko's life...

"In Spite Of All the Danger," said Yoko. It seemed as though she was taking the initiative and changing the subject. "What made you decide to release it now?"

Paul smiled. "John wrote a song about the wedding, but obviously we couldn't release it. We just don't want people digging. The press has always noticed the rings, some newspapers have started asking. It's dangerous." He sighed. "So instead, he said he'd sing that song for me. He said that maybe he was always singing to me, he just didn't realize it at first."

"That's nice," Yoko said cheerfully.

Paul frowned. "Yoko —"

"I should go," Yoko said, rising to her feet.

"But you've just gotten here," Paul protested.

"Yes, well, if you're going to be weird," Yoko said.

"Me?!" Paul exclaimed.

"You talk about you and John being so in love and that's fine, Paul," Yoko said. "I just don't know how to reply to that sometimes, and then you go and get all defensive and guilty and self conscious —"

Paul huffed. "Well, I do feel guilty about it and —"

"Well, don't!" Yoko said, throwing her arms out in exasperation. "Paul, we both got fucked over by the F.H.O. They pushed this relationship on you and you took it but... but you fell in love. Linda was gone — God, they murdered Linda — and you had no idea that I would know about everything and you fell in love. I get it."

Paul sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"John is... different, anyway," Yoko sighed. "I mean, we are all the products of our environments. He's lived a different life than he did when I married him. The sixties were a whole separate experience for him. That has... it's made him a different person. And he's still him, and he's still grand, but... I don't know. He's different. I am very happy for you, Paul."

"But it's not just him, is it?" Paul sighed. "It's —"

"Don't say his name," Yoko said. "Not here."

"What's here?" Paul asked.

"I mean," Yoko sighed, "I don't say his name anymore. I've had to move past that. But that's not your fault either, if that's what you need to hear to stop feeling so guilty. If that's what you need to hear so that you can sleep at night."

"I don't want you to tell me things so that I can sleep at night," Paul huffed. "I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me what you really think, tell me how you really feel."

"I am," Yoko insisted. "Look, Paul, a human being is so very specific. It's all down to the moment someone is conceived, the atoms that make them up. Maybe there would have been a baby, but it wouldn't have been... him."

Paul sighed. "Yeah, I know, but —"

"You know that Lee isn't Lee," Yoko said. "Ringo's daughter. You do know that, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, she was born a couple months too soon," Paul said. "And she's an only child. It's... she's got the same name, they still wound up with a daughter, but... but she's not the same person. I remember Lee when she was a baby — the first time, I mean — and she doesn't even really look the same."

"Exactly," Yoko said. "Paul, our choices be damned, the moment you and I woke up back in the sixties, our children were gone."

Paul looked at her for a long while and he didn't say anything at all. He didn't know what to say. What was one supposed to say to all of that?

"Stop blaming yourself for all of the shit that the F.H.O. has piled onto us," Yoko said. "None of it is your fall. All you've done is try to save your friends and fall in love. They're the ones ruining lives while they call it making them better."

Paul sighed again. "Yeah. Guess you're right."

"I usually am," Yoko said, nodding.

And they laughed.

***

MAY 1971

Paul was waiting in the kitchen when the clock struck midnight and Barney appeared out of thin air.

"Paul!" Barney exclaimed, a little bit surprised. "How did you know that I'd —"

"I didn't," Paul said. "I was just kind of hoping," he said, smiling.

"Yes, well, good thing the technology to concentrate magic has gotten better," Barney said. "Remember when I used to go months without checking in? Without meaning to, I mean. I'd shoot for one day and pop up four months late."

Paul laughed. "Yeah, I do. So... ten years."

"Ten fucking years," Barney laughed.

"How long has it been for you?" Paul asked. "Like, five, right?"

"Oh, time has gone a little awry," Barney said. "It's been about six and a half for me."

"Oh, wow," Paul said. "You're catching up, then, slowly but surely. So that makes Kylie, like..."

"Five years old," Barney said, smiling. "She'll be six in another few months. She's good, she's really good. She doesn't understand why I'm away so much or why Lilly goes away sometimes, too, but... but she's a really good sport about it. She doesn't cry, only complains when we're gone for a really long time."

"That's good," Paul said, nodding. "That's really good."

"Yeah," Barney said. "So, all of the F.H.O.'s files and documents and everything that I can get my hands on is on our systems now over with the Unknowables. Marbella has given us absolutely everything that the Shadows have. We've got a boatload of information, and we've been cracking away at the structure of the F.H.O. Now we're really going to start working them down. Some of the Unknowables are enlisting into the F.H.O. so we can start working from the inside."

"That's... dangerous," Paul said. "But, good. Hopefully we can bring them down soon. I'm sick of them."

Barney sighed, nodding. "I know. Oh! And one last thing before I forget," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that Paul recognized as a cell phone, one that would have been rather outdated to have in the life he had left behind in 2015, although the technology was years ahead of its time where and when Paul now stood. "You'll be able to contact me and Tessa and everyone from the Unknowables using this. Guard it carefully, don't let anyone see, the F.H.O. does not know about this. The F.H.O. does not have anything like this."

"Damn," said Paul. "That's really impressive." He pocketed the cell phone. "I'll hide it somewhere tonight, before John wakes up."

"Good, good," Barney said, nodding. "Right, well... duty calls. I guess I should be... on my way."

"I guess," Paul sighed. "It's been good seeing you, as always. I'll see you around, sometime."

"Sometime," Barney agreed. "I'll try to check in again soon."

Paul smiled, and he nodded, and then Barney was gone.

***

JULY 1971

"You want to do what?" John said, arms crossed and eyebrows raised as high as they would go.

"We're about to start working on another album!" Paul exclaimed. "Our fifteenth album!"

"Yeah, Paul could barely hold it together over number fourteen," John said, very amused with himself. "You really want to throw a wrench in number fifteen? Do you want to see him cry?"

"Hey, watch it," Paul snapped at John.

"George, are you crazy?" Ringo sighed. "Like, really, have you gone mad?"

"It's been years!" John said.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Ringo said, shaking his head. "I mean, could we even jump back in like that?"

"We definitely couldn't," said John.

"I don't know about couldn't," Paul sighed. "But shouldn't. We shouldn't."

George sat there and accepted the ridicule he was receiving from his bandmates. He soaked it all in and when they were finished he took a deep breath before he spoke. "You all," he began slowly, "are so bloody dramatic. It's ridiculous. How any of you make it through the day without spontaneously combusting at every minor inconvenience to you is a mystery to me because my God! You are so dramatic."

John clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes while Paul exclaimed, "I am not dramatic!"

"Oh, my God, it was just a proposal!" George huffed. "We haven't toured since Brian died. And I know we were all very shaken by that. You especially, Paul, and rightfully so! It was god awful, but maybe it's time to get back out there. We haven't done a concert since 1967 and we're a fucking band. We make music and we perform it, it's what we're supposed to do."

Well, we were supposed to have a concert in 1969, Paul thought to himself and he sighed inwardly. Evidently, that did not play out the same way as it did the last time.

"We don't have to do what we're supposed to do," John said. "Because, you see, we are The Beatles. We can just do what we want."

"Okay, well, what if we want is to do a tour!" George exclaimed.

"But it's not!" John shot back.

"Well, it's what I want," George said.

"Okay, well, you're one quarter of the band," John said. "You want to do a tour, then do a solo album and do a tour."

"I don't want to go solo, John," George sighed.

Paul massaged his temples.

"Well, I don't wanna go on tour," John said and he shrugged.

"Nor do I," Ringo said.

"Is it that you don't want to or is it that you're scared to put yourselves back out there?" George said. "Back in the public eye, hm?"

John and Ringo were curiously silent, but Paul looked into George's face and said, "George, try to understand my meaning very clearly. It would be unprecedented."

John frowned. "Well, I don't know about that."

They ignored John.

"Paul," said George, "everything is unprecedented these days."

Paul sighed and he sat back in his seat. "Man's got a point."

"Really?" John said.

"Oh, well, if you've got Paul hooked then John's gonna be onboard as well," Ringo said and he rolled his eyes.

"Not true," John said defensively.

"Never said I was onboard, anyway," said Paul.

"But you're thinking about it," George said, smiling.

"I just think that George might be right," said Paul. "About us only being scared to put The Beatles out there again. I mean, we're always saying that we are who we are so as far as music goes we can do what we want. And that's true but let's face it, fellas, we're not exactly teenage heartthrobs these days. We're old."

"We're not old," Ringo said, rolling his eyes again.

"I'm old," Paul chuckled, and George tried hard to contain his laughter. "Really old."

"Paul, you're twenty nine," Ringo said. "Calm down."

Paul hummed.

"Doesn't change the fact that we're about to do another album," said John.

"So we do the album," George said. "And we continue to have this conversation. Then, if all works out and we decide to do the tour, we tour that album."

"It's really not all that bad a plan," Paul said.

John and Ringo both sighed.

"It's what Brian would've wanted," George said.

"No offense, mate," Ringo said, "but I think what Brian wanted was to not get hit by a fucking car."

"Ringo!" Paul exclaimed, horrified.

"Okay!" John said loudly, putting an end to whatever conversation was about to happen if someone didn't step in. "I suppose we can keep it in mind," he said. "Going on tour. I mean, where's the harm in that, I guess?"

"I guess," Ringo grumbled.

"Wonderful," George said cheerfully. "Then it's settled. We will consider going on tour."

"Emphasis on the word consider," Ringo said pointedly.

***

Author's Note: Thank you guys SO much for 5,000 votes on this story :) !!! Also, was trying to put myself on an updating schedule instead of putting up chapters as soon as they're done, that way I can stockpile chapters and not get behind on updating again, but I'm having a really bad day and this book cheers me up. As I said in a comment, this is half of a really long chapter. I'm working on the second half still, so just let me know if you'd like me to put it up as soon as it's done or wait until next week to give this one time to breathe.

Love you all!!