In the following months, Please Please Me was released and it was a huge hit! So huge, in fact, that they were already beginning to prepare for a second album by the time May rolled around.

Paul was awake at three in the morning on the twenty fourth of May, standing in the kitchen of his and John's shared flat, just thinking... It's been two years. Two years since I was given a second chance at my life. Two fucking years.

Paul took a good look around the kitchen. He and John wouldn't be living in that flat for much longer. The following week, they'd be moving into a flat in London with George and Ringo.

"Hey, Paulie," Barney appeared with a tired sigh.

"Barney," Paul smiled, striding forward and hugging man. "God, it's been months.. How've you been? How's Lily? I've missed you. You'll never believe what's happened! Actually, you will, but it's so brilliant to be part of it all again! The Beatles are taking off! I'm a Beatle again, Barney!"

Barney smiled. "I'm happy for you, Paulie. I really am."

Paul frowned, looking Barney up and down. The agent wasn't holding himself up with his usual striking confidence, and his blonde was now specked with hints of grey. "Barney, what's the matter?"

Barney sighed. "Lots of things.. It's been a long time since I saw you, too, Paul. It's been a year since I brought you here for me, and I know it's been two years for you. Lily is almost seven months along with our baby, and work.. Oh, god, work. Ever since that day that I brought you in for that meeting they've been on my case for every little detail of just everything. I am so sick of this job.. I'm fucking done, Paul."

"B-but you can't quit.." Paul frowned. "I need you to be with me in all of this, Barney. And you said yourself that you don't just quit thee F.H.O., they'll wipe your memories or whatever you said they'd do. You can't do that to yourself, you've got a kid on the way."

Barney frowned, too, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right..." He forced his big, charming smile onto his face but it looked half-hearted. "I can get through this, I just need to power though it."

"Exactly," Paul said, but he was deeply worried about his friend.

"So, what's been going on with you?" Barney asked, trying to appear calm and casual now. "I mean, aside from the album.. The F.H.O. caught wind of you having a little health scare a little while ago?"

"Yeah." Paul nodded. "I just wasn't eating enough, I got way too skinny. But I'm better now, much better. Nothing has gone wrong with Stuart - he knows about the F.H.O. and the Shadows but he isn't helping anyone, and he's still alive so I don't think the Shadows plan on killing him."

"Yeah, if he's still alive they're probably planning to keep it that way," Barney agreed. "Anything else exciting going on?"

"John barely has nightmares anymore," Paul grinned.

"Good!" Barney nodded. "Stuart was a small bump in the road, but it would appear that everything is falling into place now. Good, this is good." Barney looked insanely relieved and Paul was really beginning to worry now about what Barney was going through at work, but he didn't try to push Barney into talking about it.

"Well, I'll leave you for now," Barney said. "I'll try to pop in again soon. See you, Paul."

"See you, Barney."

And then he was gone.

~~~

"Ringo and George have gone out," John said, poking his head into the room he and Paul shared.

It wasn't the best to be sharing a flat with George and Ringo now (they'd been living with their band mates for almost two months, now). It was a two bedroom flat and George and Ringo hadn't suspected a thing when Paul and John said they were going to room together, but having other people in their home who could hear things had really done a number on their sex life.

John quirked one eyebrow up. "Do you know what that means, Macca?"

Paul grinned. "We've got the flat all to ourselves," he leapt off the bed.

"Mmm," John wound his arms around Paul's waist and pressed a firm kiss to Paul's lips. "The things we could do with an empty flat... I mean, my god, the options are endless!"

"Hm, yes," Paul nodded. "And do you want to know what we're going to go with?"

"What?" John asked excitedly.

"Writing music," Paul poked John's nose then wiggled out of his grasp and strode past him. He went straight for the sitting room where his pen, notepad, and guitar were. "Come on, Johnny boy!"

John was sulking now. He entered the room, dragging his feet behind himself. "Paul, we never get the flat to ourselves. Come on, think about it. No one here to hear anything."

Paul smiled as he took a seat on the sofa, holding his guitar. "Yes, I realize. But we're going into the studio to record our second album in three weeks and we only have six songs completed! Eppy wants us to come in with at least eighteen recordable options so we can narrow down the list from there."

If Paul had to choose one thing about John that was one hundred percent the same as the first time Paul lived his life, it would definitely be the way John procrastinated when it came to songwriting.

"Okay, okay, okay," John sighed heavily. He picked up his own guitar and took a seat on the sofa beside Paul. "Right, read me the list of songs we've finished."

"Okay," Paul nodded. "We've got All I've Got To Do - "

"I like that one," John said. "I swear if Eppy wants to take it off..."

"I'm sure it'll work out," Paul smiled. Actually, I'm positive, he added in his head. "Anyway, we've got All I've Got To Do, All My Loving, I Wanna Be Your Man, Again and Again, Money, and Devil In Her Heart." Paul wasn't very fond of the fourth option on the list (which, of course, was fine because it didn't make it onto the album).

"I don't like Devil In Her Heart much," John sighed.

"Why not?" Paul asked with a smile. "I think it's rather nice."

"It's okay I suppose." John shrugged.

"I think we should have George sing it," Paul said. "I really think he should sing more."

"Really?" John raised his eyebrows and Paul nodded eagerly. "I guess we could talk to him about it later. Anyway, if we're going to write then let's write. Any ideas?"

"I've got one that I really like," Paul smiled and began to strum his guitar lightly.

Writing songs now was weird because he knew their songs and he knew what made it onto which album and he knew what made it onto the charts and what was left in the dust... But he had found that some songs had new meanings to him now. Like the song he began "writing" with John.

The first time around, Till There Was You was just another song on their second album. Nothing special as far as Paul was concerned. It was just a cover, after all. He had much preferred All My Loving and Money and I Wanna Be Your Man...but now...

He was having trouble focusing on the guitar chords and the lyrics as he sat there, practicing and writing and staring into John's eyes - actually a better term would be getting lost in John's eyes.

"There were bells on a hill
But I never heard them ringing
No, I never heard them at all
Till there was you,"

John began to strum along with him. He hummed to Paul's voice and nodded every time a note and a chord mingled in just the right way that caused shivers to run down one's spine because, well, there's no other way to say why than to just say it was because it was perfect.

"There were birds in the sky
But I never saw them winging
No, I never saw them at all
Till there was you

Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows
Of dawn and dew

There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No, I never heard it at all
Till there was you,"

"It's lovely, Paulie," John smiled.

"Why'd you interrupt me, then, you bastard?" Paul shook his head. "I wasn't done yet."

"It's a cover, I know the rest of it." John said.

"What? Now you don't like listening to me sing all of a sudden?" Paul laughed.

"Quite the contrary," John said, leaning in toward Paul. "It's just that I'd really like to kiss you right now."

"So do it," Paul said almost daringly.

John smiled. "Maybe I will."

Paul smiled back. This was John. This was the real John Lennon, without his mask once more. Even the first time around when John had been Paul's friend and nothing more, Paul saw John without his mask once in a while. But now Paul saw him like this just about whenever they were alone together.

This John was the John who smiled and told Paul when he particularly liked a line in a song and actually complimented him. This was the John who kissed him gently and ran his fingers through Paul's dark hair. This John made Paul wonder how it took going back in time to relive his entire life to make Paul fall in love with him.

Paul laid his guitar and his notepad down on the table. John leaned his guitar carefully against the couch. Paul straddled John's lap and kissed him.

"You're kind of perfect, you know that?" John smiled up at his lover and brushing some stray strands of dark hair away from Paul's eyes.

How did it take all of this to make me fall in love with him? Paul wondered as he kissed John again...and again... Maybe I was always in love with him and I just never got up the nerve to admit it. Oh, who am I kidding! Of course I've always been in love with him! It's John!

"You're kind of perfect, too," Paul smiled, snaking his cool hands up underneath John's turtleneck sweater.

John's breath hitched. "Paul," he said mockingly. "We have songs to write!"

"Yeah, well, I think we can fit in a tiny break," Paul said and leaned down, and he kissed John sensually, because maybe this time around, Paul was just as bad as John was. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't care.

~~~

They couldn't just lay about afterword. They had to put their clothes back on and straighten up the living room because George and Ringo wouldn't be gone forever.

"I wish we could live alone, just the two of us," John said and Paul smiled at the song title that John didn't even realize he'd used because the song wouldn't be written for another seven years or so. "George and Ringo are great and I love working with them, but sometimes I just can't stand that we have to be almost as careful about what we say and do at home as we have to be in public. Sometimes I really miss when it was just you and me, back in a tiny flat in Liverpool that we could just barely afford."

Paul frowned and nodded as they gathered the papers that had gotten scattered about at some point into neat piles. They had had to adjust to leaving with their mates very quickly, and Paul wasn't sure they had actually fully adjusted quite yet.

"Why don't we just tell them?" John suggested quite suddenly.

"Wha-what?" Paul choked. "We can't!"

"They know about Brian and they don't care!" John said. "So where's the difference if it's us?"

"There's a big fucking difference, John," Paul said, looking rather distressed. "They have to work with us, they have to live with us. You think they'll accept that with open arms? We've all been brainwashed since birth to believe that being gay is wrong and unnatural, and I hate it more than I can ever say but how do you really think they'll react?"

"I don't know, maybe like friends," John said. "Maybe they'll accept it and move on and it'll be awkward because yeah, being gay isn't exactly something you want to advertise, but come, Macca! This is George and Ringo we're talking about! They're our best mates!"

"We can't tell them, John," Paul frowned, avoiding John's gaze.

John took a deep breath, sighed heavily, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "If you don't want to tell them, then we won't."

Paul looked at John in complete and utter disbelief. Where the hell had this John been all the times that Paul had been trying to convince him that something was a very very bad idea?

But then he just nodded. "Thank you, John,"

~~~

John looked exactly the same as the man Paul had now spent two years reliving his life alongside. He was young, in his early twenties.

Paul, on the other hand, caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror - he hadn't a clue where the mirror came from, though. He was old again. He looked just as he had back in 2015. He watched his reflection carefully until his face quite literally melted away and was replaced by the one he had in his early twenties.

Paul was beginning to think that this might just be a dream when he was was quite suddenly distracted. He looked around when he heard a gun shot and a scream. He ran. "John!" He yelped. "JOHN! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

"P-Paul..." Someone whimpered, obviously in pain.

Paul stopped running and spun around. John was curled up against a brick building, clutching his stomach. "Johnny!" Paul ran to him and fell to his knees.

John laid back in Paul's lap and smiled up at him. "You're perfect," the words echoed in Paul's head, changing little by little until they weren't even being spoken in John's voice anymore, but they just kept bouncing around in his mind.

Paul pulled John's hand away from his stomach. John's hands were covered in blood and his white shirt was stained red. Paul pressed his own hand to John's wound and he felt warm blood oozing against his hand. "Johnny," Paul whispered. "You can make it through this!"

"Just - just hold me," John breathed as his eyes fluttered shut. His chest was barely moving as he took shallow, barely-there breaths.

"John!" Paul yelled and John's eyes flew open. The older man was shaking uncontrollably in pain, but then again Paul was shaking with fear. "Stay with me..."

John's eyes slowly closed again and his chest stopped moving altogether.

"No," Paul whispered. "No," he said again, louder this time. And then, out of nowhere, he was screaming his bloody head off. "NO!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! NOT AGAIN! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS AGAIN, JOHN LENNON! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

But John didn't wake or stir in Paul's arms. He was gone. He was gone..again.

"No," Paul hissed and the tears on his face were hot, really hot. They burned his skin. He didn't care though. "Not again, John. Not this time... This time was supposed to be different. I'm sorry..."

And then he started screaming again. He just bloody screamed.

~~~

John woke up when Paul began to stir in his arms.

Their room had two single beds in it so in order to sleep in the same bed they had to sleep extremely close together - which wasn't exactly a problem as far as they were concerned. Sure, they could push the two beds together but if George or Ringo were to ever go into their room, they'd get pretty suspicious if the beds were pushed together.

So they slept close together, pressed up against one another. Therefore, when Paul began to squirm viciously in his sleep, John woke up.

"John," Paul choked out in his sleep.

John looked down at him. In the dim light that was provided by the moonlight spilling in through the window, John could see Paul's face and how it was contorted into an intense frown...and how there were tears in his eyes.

"It was..different...this time," Paul breathed.

"Paulie," John hissed. "Paul, wake up."

"I'm sorry..." Paul said, softer than a whisper.

John got out of bed and walked around to kneel at the bedside. He gripped Paul's shoulders and shook him, trying to wake him up. Nothing was working and tears were running down Paul's face... He looked terrified. "Dammit, Macca, wake up!"

"IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!!" Paul screamed suddenly and John's eyes grew wide. "IT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE BLOODY LIKE THIS!! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

"Paul!" John yelled, grasping one of Paul's shoulders with one hand and holding Paul's hand with the other. "Would you just wake the hell up?!" He heard the bedroom door swing open and two pairs of footsteps barged into the room.

"What the hell is wrong?" Ringo said.

"I don't know," John shook his head. He realized that he was holding Paul's hand, their fingers laced together, and George and Ringo were in the room. But he didn't care, not right now. He looked up to see that while Ringo was oblivious, George had noticed. He still didn't care. "He's having a nightmare and he just won't wake up."

"Please don't do this to me," Paul whispered shakily. "Not again..." His eyelids began to twitch and then flitter open.

"What kind of crazy nightmares does he have?" George furrowed his brows, whispering to Ringo.

Ringo shook his head.

"Paul?" John said. "Are you okay now?"

Paul was totally out of it. "I'm sorry, John." He sounded so panicked and scared... None of his band mates had ever seen him in such a state. "There was nothing I could do. I'm so sorry, John."

"What are you on about, Paulie?" John frowned.

"I - I don't think I can save you," Paul said and swallowed her, choking back a sob. "I couldn't do anything last time, and I don't think there's anything I can do this time. If I couldn't do anything then, how can I do anything now?!"

"Paul," John breathed,

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Paul said shakily. "Not ever. But it happened once and that's that. But it really was supposed to be different this time and...and I think history is just repeating itself. It's trying to break me down...again."

"It was just a bad dream, Paul," John said. "Just a really bad dream." He looked over his shoulder at George and Ringo who motioned to the door, silently telling him they were going to leave the two of them alone. John nodded and watched them leave, closing the door behind themselves. "Paulie? Listen to me. You've just had a really bad nightmare, that's all."

Paul looked into John's eyes. "You're alive.."

"Yes, I am," John nodded. "I'm perfectly alright, Paul. It was only a bad dream."

"No, it was more than that," Paul said.

"I'm here, aren't I?" John smiled, trying to be reassuring.

Paul shook his head. "Yeah, you are, but you don't understand. It's more than just the fact that you're here right now... You died, John. You were shot!"

"Paul, what kind of nightmares are you having?" John sighed and pressed his lips to Paul's forehead. He pulled away. "You're warm, Macca. Really warm. Do you feel sick? I think you've got a fever."

"I feel fine," Paul hissed. "And it wasn't just a nightmare. You died. And you know what, John? It killed me inside. You just went and died and didn't even think about how it would affect me."

John shook his head. Definitely a fever, he thought. At least it explains the freaking weird nightmare and all of the nonsense talk.

"I'm not sick, John," Paul frowned. "You died."

"Okay, Paul," John sighed. He stood and got back into bed, pulling Paul close to him. "I died."

"Yes, you did," Paul mumbled and John could just barely hear him. "You died and I'm starting to think that I never really fully got over it. Oh, of course I didn't. I never got over it, John."

"Alright, Paul," John kissed Paul's cheek and his skin was so hot, burning hot, and yeah, it was definitely a fever. "Get some more sleep, yeah? I'll be right here if you have another nightmare."

"It wasn't a nightmare..you died.." Paul murmured as he dozed off.