"Hello, Stuart."

Stuart looked up from where he was sitting on the bed in the corner of a cell. His wrists were handcuffed to one another, and someone had taken his belt and the sneakers he had been wearing. He leapt up from the bed when he saw who it was that was entering the room. "Oh, thank God! Paul, you're here. You can get me out of here, right? You can explain to them that this is all crazy and that I haven't done anything wrong, right?"

"Stuart, sit down," Paul sighed.

"Paul, you've gotta be kidding me," Stuart said, even though he did as he was told and sat down in the nearest chair. Paul sat down in the one nearest to his. "This has gotta be a joke. Please, just get me out of here. I want to see my wife. I want to see my kids."

Paul smiled. "You have kids," he said. He knew this already, as Darren had briefed him about it before he was allowed to go in and visit Stuart. But he was just so glad to hear it. In this world where his and John's and some of Ringo's kids had just disappeared, and where a lot of other people's kids were definitely not being born and meanwhile they didn't even know what they were missing because of the butterfly effect that Paul was causing at all times, Stuart was just the opposite. Here was a man who was given a chance at life, now, and was raising a beautiful family with that chance he'd been given.

"Yeah," Stuart breathed. "Two girls, and a boy. Caroline, Millie, and... and John."

Paul nodded. "That's.. that's great, Stu. Really." He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, Stu. As far as Marbella is considered, you've committed a war crime; as far is Darren is concerned, you've acted in self-defense."

"Paul, listen, I didn't wanna —"

Paul held up a hand to stop him. "But as far as I am concerned, Stuart," he said evenly, "you are just a person who I didn't really get along with when I was just a young boy, and you were just trying to protect you and your wife."

Stuart didn't speak at first. He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I just wanted Astrid to be safe. And the baby. She was pregnant with Caroline at the time, you know."

"I understand," Paul said. "You were protecting Astrid in the exact same way that I am protecting John. I cannot ever fault you for that. I've bargained hard with Marbella and Darren for your safety."

Stuart could hardly breathe. "And... and what's the verdict?"

Paul sighed. "I'm sorry to say that you are a prisoner of war," he said. "On paper at least. But that's just a technicality because Marbella is petty. Also because it's safer for the F.H.O. to think you've been taken prisoner, for you. Anyway, I'm here to let you out of here." He pulled the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket and reached out to set Stuart free.

"Th-thank you," Stuart said. He was shaking.

"Mhm," Paul said as he gently removed the metal restraints from his wrists. "They're going to give you a real room and they'll give you food, but I'm afraid you're going to have to stay here for now. This battle in imminent and we need all hands on deck. But when the battle is done, whoever is left alive will make sure you're brought to your family and kept somewhere with them until it is safe to send you back to New York. And Astrid and the kids are all being kept safe at a separate facility. The F.H.O. won't get to them."

"Thank you," Stuart said again.

Paul smiled. "Darren will be in here in another ten minutes or so to bring you to a more comfortable room."

"Thank you." Stuart didn't know what else to say.

"After that, you'll want to disappear." Paul said. "Good luck, Stuart." With that, he stood up and made to leave the room.

"Paul, I'm sorry," Stuart said. He sounded urgent. He couldn't let Paul get away before he'd said all he needed to say, but now that Paul was turning to look at him, all of the words he'd planned out very carefully seemed to somehow escape him. "I am, I really am —" he rambled on, trying to find the words. "You know John was my best friend growing up, and I'd never actually want to hurt him. But they — they threatened my family. They threatened my kids."

"I'm not angry."

"You sound angry."

"No offense, but I'm kind of under a lot of stress at the moment."

"You're talking like we'll never see each other again."

Paul sighed. He sank back down into the chair that was opposite Stuart. "It isn't — that's not because of you, Stu. I'm going to the F.H.O. headquarters in an attempt to take down Wilson. I'm probably not making it out of this alive, is the thing."

Stuart frowned. "Then don't go —"

"I have to."

"No, you don't. You're too important."

"My life isn't worth more than anyone else's."

"But —"

"I'm going." He said it with a note of finality so firm that Stuart shut his mouth, and that was the end of it. "Just... I'm not angry at you. I mean, I am, but I'm not. It's complicated. You tried to kill my husband. But you did it to save your kids, and your wife, so... Don't wallow on what me or John thinks of you, okay? Live your life. Love your family."

"Paul —"

"The F.H.O. took your life away, and we're gonna give it back to you. Life your life."

Stuart hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you," he said yet again. He felt like he could never stop thanking Paul and that still wouldn't be thanks enough. "Do you — do you think John might want to talk to me?"

"I think if you ask to see him, then yes. He'll talk to you."

"He's going to be angry."

"We're talking about the same John, here, right? Of course, he's going to be angry," Paul laughed and, in spite of himself, so did Stuart. "But he'll get there."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

Stuart sighed. "All right. Thanks, Paul. And, uh, best of luck to you. I... hope you don't die."

Paul chuckled. "Right back at you."

***

Paul went to the meal hall because he couldn't remember when he had last eaten. From there, he headed out to the meadow in search of a certain someone. He passed Nick Wilson, grandson of President Wilson, on the way outside.

"Hey, there," Nick said.

Paul nodded. "Hello."

"He's over there," Nick said. He pointed to a tree with low hanging branches a little ways away. Underneath the branches, a figure lounged in the shade. "I was just chatting with him."

"What were you talking about, may I ask?" Paul said.

"You," Nick said bluntly.

"That so?"

"He's... he's feeling very scared."

Paul frowned. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then he strode past Nick and toward the tree. "Hey, there," he said.

George looked up. "Paul! Uh... hi."

"Relax, I'm not here to yell at you," Paul said. "Can I sit with you?"

George nodded.

Paul sat down on the grass, facing George. He opened his mouth to speak, but George cut him off before he could even begin.

"Do you hate me?" George sobbed.

"No, stop it," Paul sighed.

"I would understand if you do."

"George."

"I was doing what I thought was best. I really was."

"I believe you."

"You do?"

Paul sighed. "George, it's been.... it's been a very stressful few weeks for me. But that's no excuse. I'm sorry I got so angry with you before I could even hear you out."

"Wha— no, Paul, it's completely understandable. You've been through so much in the past few weeks. I can't imagine the kind of pain —"

"No, no, George, it's still no excuse," Paul said. "I am very sorry."

George swallowed hard. "Don't be sorry."

"Leave it in the past, then," Paul said.

George nodded. "I'd like that."

Paul sighed again. "I imagine that you plan to invade the F.H.O. with the rest of us."

George nodded again. "Yes."

"And I suppose there's nothing I can do to convince you to stay behind," Paul said. "To stay safe."

George laughed. "Absolutely not."

Paul got quiet again. "Um," he started. "John said something about... I guess you said something to him about... you dying."

"Ah," George laughed. "Yes. I didn't mean to tell him that either. I figured it out a while ago, Paul. It's why I really did quit the cigarettes a few year back."

Paul huffed out a humorless laugh. "I guess I wasn't subtle enough."

"Not by a long shot." George smiled at Paul. "Hey."

"Hm?"

"No matter what happens tomorrow, you're my brother. I wouldn't change a thing, yeah?"

Paul blinked back tears. His breath shook, and all he could manage for a response was a soft, "Yeah."

***

When Paul knocked on the door, he barely caught the soft, "Come in." He entered slowly — "No sudden movements," they had said — and smiled when he saw Ringo sitting cross legged on his bed. To his relief, Ringo smiled back. This trauma could not, and would not, take all of his wonderful light from him. Paul pulled up a chair at Ringo's bedside and was about to say hello, when Ringo burst out:

"Is it true there's a war on?"

Paul smiled gently. "Yes. I have to go with everyone else tomorrow."

"You?" Ringo said. "Why you?"

"Because I need to see this thing through to the end," Paul said.

"Right the... Darren explained this, um," Ringo said. "You were brought here to save John... but now we know that you weren't really intended to save John... but you did it anyway."

"Wow, yeah," Paul said. "You've got a pretty good grasp on things."

"Really?" Ringo sighed. "Doesn't feel like it."

"This will get easier with time," Paul said.

"Doubt it," Ringo laughed.

"Just take it easy, okay?" Paul said. "You and John stick together when they can get you back home, okay? You're going to need to lean on each other for support."

"What— what are you talking about?" Ringo asked. "You're making it sound like you and George aren't coming back."

Paul blinked tears for the second time within the hour. "Richie, I know you're in a dark place right now. Believe me, I've been there too many times to count. But I'm not going to sugar coat things for you either. 'Cause I respect you too much. And I don't think you want that."

Ringo shook his head.

"I'm not saying there's no chance of us making it out of this alive," Paul said. "But it's a slim chance. I know that me and George both will go us far as we need to go, no matter what it takes, to see this people taken down. I'd go to the ends of the Earth to see it happen, and I know George would, too. Even if it kills us."

Ringo shook his head. "But —"

"I'm sorry I don't have more time with you to help you understand why I have to do this," Paul said. "I really am. But I have to go in the morning, and I need to sleep, and I don't want to burden you with all of that right now. Should George or I make it out, one of us will explain it."

"But if you don't..."

Paul sighed. "I know. It sucks."

Ringo nodded. "It sucks so bad. This all sucks so much."

"No doubt about it," Paul said. "If I could've made this happen differently, I would have. I tried to save you all from it. I'm sorry I failed."

"You didn't fail," Ringo said. "John's here, right? You saved him."

Paul sighed, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"That's a win in my book any day," Ringo said. He smiled.

Paul smiled, too. Ringo was the only one he never lost. Ringo was the one he didn't have to save. He was the only one that Paul had been able to forge a relationship well into their "retirement years" (as if either of them would ever willingly retire). Paul thought that because of all this he had, in some ways, neglected his friendship with Ringo in this lifetime. While he was so focused on saving George and saving John, he didn't think he needed to worry about Ringo at all. Paul also thought that, in some ways, Ringo needed saving right now more than George or John.

But he didn't have the time or the energy to properly explain all of that, so they sat in comfortable silence and truly understood one another.

***

When Paul climbed into bed with John that night, arriving back late from a last minute strategy meeting, he secretly hoped that John was already asleep so that he wouldn't have to find the words needed to say goodbye to John. How can he possibly say goodbye to John.

"Paul?"

Fuck. "Yeah, John?"

"Don't go."

"No, don't do this, John."

"You could die."

"I could. If that's what it takes, well... I'll do whatever I need to do."

John grew quiet for a long while. Then, "Let me come with you."

"No," Paul said without a moment's hesitation. "No way in hell, John. Twenty years. You're asking me to throw away twenty years."

"Not throw away," John said softly. "We had twenty wonderful years. And now, if we go down, then we go down together."

"No, I won't let you," Paul said.

John sat up. "Why not? If you're going to see this thing to the bitter end, just like yous aid, why can't I do the same thing?"

"Because taking them down isn't the only thing I'm going to see through to the end," Paul said. "I will make sure that you are safe until I die."

"But, Paul —"

"No, John. It's not happening. You don't have the training."

John huffed. "What? You're telling me you've been trained?"

Paul grimaced. "No, I had to learn on the job."

John sighed. "I'm — I'm sorry, Paul."

Paul shook his head. "It's okay."

John sighed again, He shifted himself closer to Paul and wrapped his arms around him. "Just... do your very best to come back to me? Please?"

Paul nodded. His face was in the crook of John's neck. "I'll do what I can," he mumbled into John's shoulder.

"Thank you," said John. "Paul?"

"Yeah."

"When I left the house after our fight," John said. "You said something as I left. You said... I keep breaking you?"

Paul shook his head. "No, that wasn't fair of me to say. John, I'm sorry —"

"It's okay, you were right." John said. He leaned back so that he could see Paul's face. "I'm the one who should be sorry, and I am — I really am. And you broke me, too, y'know. You never meant to, of course, but you just kept suffering. You had all this tragedy surrounding you and seeing you in pain broke my heart like nothing else ever could. So this makes sense, I think. You going off to die for a cause and leave me to live with survivor's guilt."

"What do you mean?" Paul frowned.

John chuckled, and he pressed one hand to Paul's cheek. "It only makes sense that you'd break me one more time."

Paul blinked hard but tears spilled down his truck anyway. "Oh my god, I love you so much."

"I love you," John said. "Come on. You need sleep, yeah? Big day tomorrow."

Paul laughed. "Yeah, big day."

And so they settled down for the night, and held tight to each other for what they knew could be the last time. They woke often, checking to make sure the other was there every time. They were paranoid, and restless. They held each other tighter.