In London on November 20, 1974 there were four men who were getting ready for a very fun night. It was not a particularly special night, they weren't doing anything entirely out of the ordinary. They were going to attend a concert.

John did not bother knocking on the door that he and Paul had arrived at the front steps of. He took hold of the handle and strode right on in, exclaiming that, "George, we're here!"

"He's still upstairs messing with his hair," Pattie said. "Said he'll be down soon."

"Right," said Paul. "Thanks, Pattie." He turned to speak to John. "We're still going to be leaving later than I had been hoping we would. It's already six 'o clock."

"Oh, and Ringo should be here any minute," she added. "Maureen called right before they left. I have no idea where Yoko is, though. So who's this band you're going to see?"

"A bunch of nobodies," John sighed, rolling his eyes.

"They're not nobodies," Paul said, rolling his eyes right back at John. "We're seeing Queen."

"Queen?!" Pattie exclaimed.

"Oh, god, don't tell me you like them," John sighed.

"Of course I like them," Pattie said. "It's Queen! They're all over the radio."

"Their new album is doing better than our new album," Paul said, shrugging.

"Yeah, and it's ridiculous," John huffed.

"That Killer Queen song is just so catchy, though," Pattie said. "I mean, your new album is all well and good but theirs that came out at the beginning of this month? I mean, wow."

"Right?" Paul said. "God, it's so good."

A car pulled up to the front of the house and the sound of a car door being shut could be heard from outside.

"That'll be Ringo," Pattie said. "I'll be off, then. Mo and I are having a girl's night out."

"Have fun," Paul said as she walked out the door. A few moments later, Ringo walked through the door and shut it behind himself.

"Alright, now who are these people we're seeing again?" Ringo said.

Paul rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to answer, but before he got the chance to answer Ringo, George called out, "Queen!" as he was bounding down the stairs. He stuck the landing, looked to Paul, and asked, "It is Queen, right? That's what they're called?"

"Yes," Paul said. "Very good, George."

"Excellent," George said.

"I hear their album is selling better than ours is," John said.

"What?!" George scoffed.

"Who'd you hear that from?" Ringo asked.

John wordlessly pointed to Paul.

"Well, that's ridiculous," Ringo sighed.

"But we're The Beatles!" George said.

"They're young," Paul said, shrugging. "They're new and hot and fresh."

"We're young," George said, pouting. "We're hot and fresh! Maybe we're not new. We're just... seasoned."

"Seasoned is a nice way of saying old," Paul said.

"We're not old!" George huffed.

"Paul, stop saying that we're old," Ringo sighed. "We're not old. So, we're in our thirties now. So what? That's not old."

"Okay, I'm sick of this conversation!" John said. "It doesn't matter. We're going to see this dumb band —"

"They're not dumb!" Paul cried.

"— because apparently it's very important to Paul... for some reason," said John. "We'll just — just try and have a good time and, for the love of God, if we could please not fight about how old we are."

From outside, they could hear another car pulling up to the front of the house.

"Come on, that'll be Yoko, then," John said. "Let's go."

John and Ringo crossed the threshold of the house, stepping into the cool November air. Paul made to follow immediately after them, but George stuck his arm out in front of the doorway to stop him. "Alright, now tell me honestly," he demanded of Paul, "what is so special about these guys?"

Paul smiled. "They're legends, George."

"They're twenty-somthing-year-old kids," George said.

"They will be legends," Paul amended.

George raised his eyebrows. "They're good?"

Paul smirked. "Come on. You'll see."

***

In London on November 20, 1974 there were four men who were getting ready for a very fun night. It was not a particularly special night, or so they thought, they weren't doing anything entirely out of the ordinary. They were going to perform a concert.

"Roge?" said Freddie.

"Yeah, what?" Roger said.

"You really need to do something about that hair," Freddie said.

"Excuse me?" Roger asked, eyebrows raised as high as they would go.

"Well, it starts to look just awful halfway through the set every night," Freddie said, shaking his head. "All sweaty and gross and sticking to your forehead."

"What exactly is it that you want me to do about it, Fred?" Roger asked pointedly and when Freddie did not give him an answer, he nodded and said, "Exactly," then sat back in his chair, setting his feet up on the vanity beside him. "Besides, a lot people think it looks hot when I get all sweaty like that," he said coyly.

"A lot of people are wrong," Freddie huffed.

"Fuck off," Roger said but he was containg laughter.

"See, you're only upset because you know that I'm right," Freddie said. "Don't you think so, Deaky? Don't you think he's only upset with me because he knows he's wrong?"

Deaky didn't answer.

"John?" Freddie said.

"Hm?" Deaky said, and he looked up at Freddie. "Oh, uh. I don't know, Fred," he said, and went back to staring absently into space.

Roger opened his mouth to say something, he just wasn't sure what that something was. Freddie was looking confused and upset while Deaky's expression was entirely unreadable, and then before Roger even got the chance to figure out what he should say, Brian entered and exclaimed, "I've got fabulous news!"

"You've figured out what to do with Roger's hair?" Freddie asked, wiping away his frown and putting on excited front.

"Freddie!" Roger cried, but he found himself laughing again.

"Guys, this is life changing stuff!" Brian huffed.

"Alright, alright," Freddie said. "What is it then?"

"The venue has just informed me that there is a very special group of guests coming tonight," Brian said.

"Oh, that's all?" Freddie said. "We play for celebrity audience members all the time. What's the big deal?" he asked while Deaky and Roger exchanged a look between the two of them. Freddie reached for his water, entirely uninterested in what Brian had to say now.

"None like these people, Fred," Brian said, shaking his head. "It's the Beatles."

Freddie choked in his water, spluttering and spilling his drink all over the place. Roger laughed joyously, looking to Deaky with a wide grin plastered across his face. Deaky, on the other hand, began wringing his hands together and he looked incredibly anxious.

"That's — that is incredible!" Freddie exclaimed, leaping out of his seat. "Come on! We need to do a soundcheck! This show needs to be perfect!"

"Okay, well, Fred," Brian said, "we don't wanna put too much pressure on ourselves, so like —"

"Soundcheck now!" Freddie yelped, hurrying from the room.

"I shouldn't've said anything," Brian sighed. "Whatever, I guess a thorough soundcheck won't hurt anyway. Come on, then, you two."

"Yeah, we'll be there in a minute, Bri," Deaky said, nodding.

"Well, don't be too long," Brian huffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't go leaving me alone with that one."

"Well, to be fair, Bri," Roger sighed, "all that ridiculousness is sort of your fault."

"Whatever," Brian said as he stalked out of the room.

"Roge," Deaky said after Brian had gone. "This is a lot."

"It's gonna be okay, Deaks," Roger said, getting out of his chair.

"Is it, though?" Deaky asked, frowning. "I mean, The Beatles. This is a lot. I mean everything was already a lot, but The Beatles? I don't know if I can handle this. I've got a really bad feeling about this."

"You can do it," Roger said.

"Roge," Deaky sighed.

"You've got this," Roger said, smiling at him. "We have got this. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Roger," Deaky said.

"And I'll be right there with you, yeah?" Roger said. "We're in this together. We've always been in this together."

Deaky frowned, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah. Okay, let's go."

Roger grinned. "Let's go, indeed."

***

"They weren't awful," Ringo said reluctantly after the concert.

"You could, you know, probably word it a little nicer than that," Yoko laughed.

"I like them, actually," John said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I like them a lot!" George said excitedly. "I'm gonna go out and buy their new record tomorrow — I'm gonna buy all their records tomorrow!"

"Okay, George, you know that you don't always have to be Paul's hype man, right?" Ringo said. "Like, you can actually think that something he likes is shit."

"I know," George said. "They're good! Great, even! They're not shit!"

"I agree, they're not shit," John said.

"They're musical geniuses!" George exclaimed.

"Thank you, George," said Paul at the same time that John said, "Oh, well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

"You should!" George said. "These guys are gonna be huge! I'm sure of it!"

Paul looked at George, smiling, trying to contain his laughter. "Alright," he said. "Could we hurry it up, maybe?"

"Where are we even going?" Ringo asked. "The car is that way!"

"We're going to meet the band, of course," Paul said.

"Excuse me?" Ringo said. "I've just sat through their concert, and that's all that I agreed to."

"Who says they're even gonna let us backstage?" John asked. "We haven't been invited."

Yoko rolled her eyes. "You're the Beatles."

"Fair enough," John sighed.

"I wanna go home," Ringo groaned.

"C'mon, mate, these guys are gonna be big," George said. "We should meet them now while we still can."

"They're already pretty big," said Yoko.

"We can meet them anytime we like!" Ringo argued. "We — are — the — Beatles!"

"It'll only be twenty minutes, half hour tops," said Paul. "Then we'll go home, Ringo, I promise."

Ringo grumbled under his breath angrily.

"Hello," Paul said, walking up to the security guard who stood at the backdoor. "We'd like to request access backstage. We're, uh, we're The Beatles."

***

"The Beatles!" Brian exclaimed upon bursting into the dressing room.

"We know, Bri," Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "You told us before the concert, remember?"

"The Beatles!" Brian repeated, breathlessly. "They — they wanna come — backstage — and meet — they wanna meet us!"

"Meet us?" Freddie said, eyes wide.

"Meet... us?" Deaky said, voice shaking.

"Y-yeah," Brian said, nodding.

"When — when will they be here?" Freddie asked, already busying himself with fixing his hair. "

"Like, momentarily," Brian said. "I've already told the security guards to let them in. I ran here to let you know they're on their way just after that."

"Roger, put your shirt back on," Freddie snapped.

"Oh, very well, Mum," Roger said, but he snatched his shirt off of the floor and pulled it back onto his body. He didn't bother buttoning it, of course, but Freddie had only asked him to put it on.

"I — I've just gotta go and do something before they get here," Deaky said, standing to leave the room.

"What's that?" Brian asked, frowning.

"Cry," Deaky said and he scurried out the door.

"Well, I certainly hope that won't take too long," Brian said. "Like I said, they'll be here —"

"Momentarily, yeah," Roger sighed. "I'll go make sure he's okay." And then he, too, hurried from the room. There were a number of doors that led into new rooms all along the hallway that their dressing room was placed at the end of. Roger opened each of these, poking his head inside, until he found the right one. "Deaks," he said, entering the room and kicking the door shut behind himself, "are you okay?"

"This is too much, Roge," Deaky huffed. "This can't be happening."

"Except for that it is," Roger said.

"We can't meet The Beatles today," Deaky said. He shook his head. "No, no, we cannot."

"It's too late to stop it," Roger said. "John, look, if we meet them, if we chat with them for a bit, then maybe we can figure out how it is they're still together." He paused. "Like, you know, we can figure out what's been changed to keep them from breaking up."

They sat in awkward silence for a long while until Deaky, sounding even more anxious than he had before, asked, "You don't think it's us that did it, do you?"

"No, John," Roger sighed. "How could that be? Their official breakup was almost five years ago — supposed to be five years ago. And that's not counting all the shit that came before, and... no. Can't be us."

"Doesn't make any sense," Deaky said sorrowfully. "Nothing makes sense. They should've broken up years ago... I wanna go back home."

Roger sighed. He pulled a chair up in front of where Deaky was sitting and sat down. "I know. Me, too."

"I'm struggling to remember the songs," Deaky said, shaking his head. "I'm trying to have the same stage presence as I used to, so that I don't look suspicious or — or something. But even if I've got the physical energy for all that back, I just don't have the mental energy anymore."

"Yeah, but you're doing a splendid job of it," Roger said. "You really are, John. If I didn't know what'd happened, I'd never even know, if that makes any sense."

"Yeah, it... it does," Deaky said. "Thanks, Roge."

"So," Roger said, "what do you say we get out there and figure this shit out?"

Deaky sighed, "Yeah, I guess we —"

"You know, if you don't want people finding out you're from the future then you should probably make sure the door is shut all the way when you're gonna have a chat about it."

Roger and Deaky looked up to find that the door was now open. There was a man standing in the doorway, looking rather amused. There were two people standing behind him looking over his shoulders and into the room, and they did not look amused.

"Shit," Roger hissed.

***

"Right this way, sirs and madam," said the security guard who was escorting the four Beatles and Yoko to the dressing room. "The band is just at the end of this hallway."

"So, Paul says these guys are gonna be legends one day," George said to Yoko in a low voice so that no one else would hear. "Is that true?"

"Yeah, try Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame," Yoko laughed. "They're definitely legends."

"Awesome," George said, grinning. "I'm actually really excited to meet them. I know Ringo's pretty miffed but maybe once we get in there —"

" — maybe we can figure out how it is they're still together."

George and Yoko stopped dead in their tracks, gazes falling upon a door that was open just a crack. They exchanged a quick glance then leaned in closer to the door.

A voice inside the room said, "Like, you know, we can figure out what's been changed to keep them from breaking up."

Yoko took a few steps away from the door and said, "Psst. Paul."

Paul turned, eyebrows raised.

Yoko gestured sharply for him to come to stand with her and George, nodding her head at the door.

Paul frowned. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that John and Ringo wouldn't notice him slipping away. Once he found that they were deep in conversation with the security guard, he walked over to Yoko and George.

"You don't think it's us that did it, do you?" a second voice asked the first.

Paul mouthed, "What's going on?" to Yoko and George, but they both silently shushed him and gestured for him to keep listening.

"No, John. How could that be? Their official breakup was almost five years ago —"

Paul, Yoko, and George all looked at each other with wide eyes. Paul's mouth had fallen agape in shock.

"— supposed to be five years ago. And that's not counting all the shit that came before, and... no. Can't be us."

"Doesn't make any sense. Nothing makes sense. They should've broken up years ago... I wanna go back home."

They could hear someone shuffling around in the room, then a chair being dragged across the floor. Then, the first voice said, "I know. Me, too."

"I'm struggling to remember the songs. I'm trying to have the same stage presence as I used to, so that I don't look suspicious or — or something. But even if I've got the physical energy for all that back, I just don't have the mental energy anymore."

Paul shook his head slowly.

"Yeah, but you're doing a splendid job of it. You really are, John. If I didn't know what'd happened, I'd never even know, if that makes any sense."

"This is bad," Paul mouthed, and Yoko nodded. George didn't seem to notice this exchange and he, quite contrary to the two of them, was rather amused by this whole situation.

"Yeah, it... it does. Thanks, Roge."

George looked down the hallway to make sure they were the only ones there, then made a move to push the door open. He paused halfway through his movement to check if Paul and Yoko agreed that they should enter the room and confront them.

"So, what do you say we get out there and figure this shit out?"

Paul and Yoko glanced at each other, then they looked back to George and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess we —"

George pushed on the door and it swung open. "You know," he said, interrupting the person who had been speaking, "if you don't want people finding out you're from the future then you should probably make sure the door is shut all the way when you're gonna have a chat about it."

The two men inside the room looked up at the three of them, both of their mouths hanging open. After a few moments, Roger Taylor hissed out an ineloquent, "Shit."

"Wha— what?" John Deacon said, eyebrows raised, trying quickly to cover his tracks. "The future? Ha! What a — what a ridiculous — what?"

"Come off it, Deaky," Roger sighed. "Come in, close the door."

George, Yoko, and Paul entered and Paul closed the door behind the three of them.

"But — but the future — what, like, time travel?" Deaky said, forcing a laugh. "That's — that's —"

"John," Roger sighed. "Come on, they heard everything." He turned away from Deaky to look at the three new people in the room. "You seem pretty calm, though, about this whole thing. That's a bit weird."

"And what 'whole thing' is that?" Yoko asked, eyebrows raised.

Roger rose to his feet, hands on his hips. "Well, evidently, we're time travelers."

"Takes one to know one," Paul said.

Roger and Deaky exchanged a look.

"You — you're —" Deaky began.

"From the future, yes," Yoko said, nodding.

"So... who do you work for?" Paul demanded.

Deaky and Roger exchanged another look.

"Pardon?" said Deaky.

"He asked you who it is that you work for," George said.

"Yeah, we heard," Deaky said.

"Okay, then who do you work for?" Paul asked.

"Um..." Roger said. "Trident, I guess."

"That's not what I —" Paul began, and sighed.

"I believe what Paul means is," Yoko said, "do you work for the F.H.O. or the Shadows? Or perhaps some other time travel organization we have yet to hear about?"

For a third time, Roger and Deaky exchanged a confused glance.

"Time... time travel organization?" Deaky said.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Roger asked, brow furrowed.

It was Paul and Yoko's turn to share a puzzled look.

"I'm confused," said Deaky.

"As am I," said Paul. "Wait, okay, so this is what I'm understanding from you two. You woke up here, in your past, having been ripped out of some time and place in the future, but you have no idea how or why you're here."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Roger said, nodding.

"Precisely," said Deaky. "Do... do you know how and why you're here?"

"Yeah, I do," Paul said.

"Yes," Yoko said.

Roger raised his eyebrows. "And you?" he asked, turning to George.

George, who had been listening to this discussion silently, perfectly content to stand by the door, looked at Roger, puzzled. "Me?" he said and Roger nodded. "Oh!" George laughed. "No, I'm not from the future, I just know about this whole thing."

"Oh," Roger said, "okay. Then what year did you two come from? Because —"

"2015," said Paul.

"Oh, okay," Deaky said. "So not so far off from us."

"What year did you make it to, then, before you got pulled back here?" Paul asked.

"2019," said Roger.

"Did you wake up here on the same day?" Yoko asked.

"Yeah," Deaky said, nodding. "Did you two... not?"

Yoko shook her head. "No, I've been here since 1965."

"1965?!" Roger exclaimed.

"And I've been here since 1961," Paul said.

"1961?!" Deaky cried, frowning deeply. "Wait so are — are we never going back?"

"I mean," Paul said, "you'll get back one day. Once you've lived practically your whole life again."

"We..." Deaky inhaled sharply. "So what you're telling me is that we have to do all of that all over again. Everything, we just have to — have to go through that again."

Paul and Yoko exchanged a glance then looked back to Deaky and Roger. "Yeah," they both said solemnly.

"I —" Deaky shook his head, blinking back tears. "I need a minute," he said. He jumped up from where he was sitting and fled the room.

Roger sighed, sinking back into his seat and dropping his head into his hands. "This is all such a mess," he groaned.

Yoko and Paul glanced at one another, not entirely sure what they were supposed to do now. Yoko leaned in close to Paul and, very softly so that only he could hear, she said, "You take him and I'll go handle Deacon?"

Paul sighed, and nodded. "George," he said, and George hurried over, "can you go make sure that John and Ringo, or for that matter Freddie and Brian, don't come looking for us?"

George nodded, and then he and Yoko both left the room, shutting the door behind themselves.

"Hey, Roger," Paul said, sitting down in the chair that Deaky had been using before he hurried out of the room. "It's, uh, nice to see you again, anyway. It's been quite a while. When did we see each other last?"

"Oh, I don't know," Roger sighed. "It's — it's been a while."

Paul hummed. "So, Roger, how long have you and John been here?"

Roger sighed again. "Oh, it's been... it's been four days now."

"Oh, okay, so recently," said Paul. "Very recent."

"Yes," Roger said, nodding. "We — we have no idea how. We figured it out pretty quickly — I mean, we figured out that it was the both of us pretty quickly. 'Cause we were both acting so weird, you know what I mean? We could both see it pretty clearly. But we've both been saying that we'll have to wake up back in 2019 sometime..."

"I'm sorry," Paul sighed.

"How do you know how you're here, though?" Roger asked.

"Well, the time travel organization that contacted me and explained it to me," Paul said. "Explained some of it, anyway. It's... complicated."

"How long did that take, though?" Roger asked. "Maybe they'll be in touch with me and Deaky soon?"

"Maybe," Paul said, nodding. "I don't really know. They contacted me almost immediately, there was a note left for me when I woke up. And then I met up with my advisor — the organization has an advisor assigned to me, it's all very official really — and I met him less than twenty four hours after I woke up in 1961."

Roger groaned. "This is all so weird."

"Yeah," Paul sighed. "In some ways, that goes away. In others, it's just kinda gonna feel like that forever."

"But why are you here?" Roger asked. "Have they told you why they've brought you back here to live your life all over again?"

"Yeah," Paul said, nodding. "So, I was brought in to save John's life."

Roger furrowed his brow. "R-really? Wait, really? That's not gonna, like, rip a hole in time and space or —"

"No," Paul said. I don't know, he thought to himself. "It's complicated."

"Right," Roger said. "Well, do you — no, never mind. That's stupid."

"Do I think that you and John were brought here to stop Freddie dying?" Paul asked.

"Well, that's what I was thinking for a moment there," said Roger. "But that's dumb."

"It's not dumb," Paul said. "I mean, you'd certainly have a job of it, but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility. I mean, I'm here for John, like I said —"

"Yeah, but with him you can push out of the way of the bullets," said Roger. "What am I supposed to do? Sit down with him and have talk about safe sex? Gift him a lifetime supply of condoms? Tell him that if he's not careful he'll die, like..."

Paul shrugged. "It's complicated. It's all so complicated. But I've gotten George to quit smoking, mostly."

"Have you?" Roger said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Paul said, nodding.

"How?" Roger asked. "That seems... risky."

"I think he's starting to suspect, as of late," Paul sighed. "Now that he knows about the whole time travel thing and all. Like I keep saying, complicated. But even before then, I'd quit, and so John quit somewhere along the line. Ringo cut back a lot. And I just kept telling him it'd be good for his health and he listened, at least somewhat."

"Oh," said Roger. "Erm, so you guys are... still together."

"You mean the band?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Roger said.

"Yeah," Paul said.

"So, um," Roger said. "How'd that happen?"

"Well, the time travel organization who brought me here wanted me to keep The Beatles together for as long as possible," said Paul. "Keep the albums coming for as long as possible."

"You and John just, like, never had a falling out?" Roger said.

"Nope," Paul said.

"And you and Yoko Ono," said Roger. "You're just... cool."

"We're friends," Paul told him.

"Huh," Roger said thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, she's the only one you've had in your life who remembers the future, too. That must make you feel a little crazy. I mean, shit, fourteen years."

"Yeah, it's... hard," Paul said. "Keep Deaky close. You're gonna need him, he's gonna need you."

Roger laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, these past few days, man... I'm pretty sure Bri thinks we're fucking."

"It's better than him thinking you're time travellers," Paul said, shrugging.

"True, yeah," Roger said. He sighed.

"How are you handling it?" Paul asked.

"I mean, I think I'm doing pretty okay but everything's just so weird," Roger said.

"Yeah," Paul said. "Everything is very complicated, we've established this. But I mean... having Freddie around. How are you holding up?"

"Oh, that," Roger said. "I mean... it's a miracle. Like, the day he... the day he died, I went to visit him. I went out to visit him and got there, like, just barely too late. He was gone, just like that, and I remember thinking to myself, like, 'I wish I could have five more minutes with him, just five more minutes'. Now I've had four days with him. I think it's incredible."

"It is, yeah," Paul agreed, finding himself lost in his thoughts for a moment. He could it, in his mind's eye: John walking into Paul's childhood home like he owned the place, yelling, "Hey, Macca!". That feeling, of seeing him again after so long, after losing him without getting to say a proper goodbye first, was an incredible feeling. Bloody weird, for sure, but so, so incredible.

"Deaky, he..." Roger began, then trailed off and thought about what he was trying to say for a moment. "He's taking it pretty badly. I guess it's easier for me in some ways. I mean, I was on tour. I went to bed on a tour route, and I woke up on a tour route. Except I was in Massachusetts when I went to bed, and I woke up in Swansea. I mean, the night before I woke up to all of this I was playing in this beautiful place, a stage in the middle of the woods. And then I wake up in fucking Wales. And I was gonna be heading over to Manhattan, but I woke up and hopped on a tour bus to Birmingham." He laughed through his disbelief, shaking his head. "Went to bed in 2019, woke up in 1974."

"It's trippy to say the least," Paul said, nodding.

"Yeah, but all of that," Roger sighed. "Can't be near as bad as what Deaky's going through. He was through with all of this, he was retired for over twenty years, and then out of nowhere he wakes up here."

Paul nodded again. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. He had a feeling he wasn't supposed to say anything. In fact, it seemed that talking through his feelings was doing Roger some good.

"I mean, I have missed him," Roger sighed. "He's been so... distant. So, so distant ever since he retired. I haven't spoken with him in years except to discuss the band's finances and now... I don't know, this situation really sucks. This whole thing is really fucking weird and I'd like to go back to my life — I mean, I know that this is my life, but... well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Paul said, nodding. "I get it."

"It's just that this whole thing, weird as it is, it gave me that extra time I asked for with Freddie," said Roger. "And it gave me that extra time with Deaky that I've wished for."

Paul smiled. "Yeah, that's how it all gets you. Every day is an uphill climb but somehow it's sort of worth it."

"Sort of," Roger said. "Deaky doesn't see it that way, though. He avoid Freddie like the plague, hardly speaks to him at all. He's afraid if he takes the opportunity to spend time with him then he'll just slip right through his fingertips."

"It's a scary thought," Paul said, nodding. "I'm afraid you're going to be here for a very long time, though. At least, I'm quite sure you are. He'll come around eventually."

"I sure hope so," Roger sighed. "He was the most torn up about Freddie's death, and... he deserves to have this time with him, too. I wish he'd stop sabotaging that."

Paul nodded.

"We should probably get in there with the rest of them," Roger said. "They'll be getting really suspicious by now. We've been missing a while."

"Yeah," said Paul. "Quickly, though, before we go in, is there a phone number I can contact you at? I have that advisor that I mentioned before. I can try to get some information for you and John."

"Oh, shit, yeah," Roger said. He rose to his feet, and so did Paul. "That'd be awesome. Only that it's my home phone since, you know, no cell phones. And I won't be home until the tour's over in another few weeks."

"That's fine," said Paul. "I'll see what I can find out and contact you somewhere around the middle of December."

"Perfect, yeah," said Roger. "I'll give it to you before you go, 'cause I need to find a paper and pen in the dressing room. I'll slip it to you or we'll come up with some cover-up reason for me to be giving it to you."

They were heading toward the door together and Paul smirked. "You know, I actually have a really great reason to explain why you might give me your number," he said. "You see, we're working on this album made up entirely of collaborations with other artists..."

***

It was late when Paul and John arrived home. Actually, it was quite early. The sunrise was only a few hours away. So when John climbed into bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Paul took this opportunity to quickly sneak out of the room.

Paul tiptoed down the hallway and slipped into the guest room that was furthest from his and John's room. He pulled up the loose floorboard in the corner of the room, yanked the bag hidden there out, and fished through the bag until he had the cell phone in his hand.

He tapped out a message and quickly hit send:

Barney, we need to talk. November 21, 1974. 4:02am. Urgent.