George announced early on in 1978 that he was having a baby. Additionally, he and his new fiance, Olivia, planned to get married after the baby was born. Something about this was comforting to Paul, especially after the debacle in February with Heather. George's life seemed to be on track, for the most part. He'd met Pattie pretty late on, but he met Olivia right on time and, unlike Lee Starkey, Dhani Harrison seemed to be on the way at just the right pace.

Sure enough, Dhani was born on the right day at the right time in the right place. And then, the following month, George and Olivia's wedding was exactly when it was supposed to be, as well.

John was talking to Stuart again which was a little off seeing as Stuart was meant to be dead, but that was fine. If things were completely on track, then John would die.

Things were looking up once again.

Barney woke Paul up in the middle of the night, late in October of that same year.

"It's been a while since we did this," Paul groaned, dragging himself out of bed. "What is it this time? Are we leaving the house?"

"Yes," said Barney. "We're having a meeting."

"We being?" Paul asked, eyebrows raised. "The F.H.O.?"

"No, no," Barney said, shaking his head. "The Unknowables."

"Oh, okay," Paul said, breathing a sigh of relief. He started rifling through his drawers, finding something easy to put on. "How's the baby?"

"Good," Barney said. "He's getting so big. He's almost a year old now."

"Yeah, that adds up," Paul said, pulling a sweater and jeans over his sleep clothes. "I heard about him, like, a year and a half ago." He pulled shoes on.

"Ready?" Barney said.

Paul nodded. "Yeah," he said, but he paused in his tracks. He looked at John, fast asleep in bed, for a while. "I worry, you know. I worry a lot. Like, what am I even supposed to do to save him? I've been here for so long, and for all these years it's just been how to save John, how to save John. But I... what if I can't? What if I fail?"

"It's okay, Paul," Barney said softly. "You're doing well."

"Am I?" Paul said. "How do you know?"

"You're keeping him close," Barney said. "The Beatles are still together, which we've agreed from day one was in John's best interest. You live with him, he's got no reason to go to New York City without you, and if anything crops up you're going to know about it so far in advance that you'll be able to put a bump in the road somehow."

"I guess," Paul said. "Let's just go."

Barney nodded. He took Paul by the hand, and they were off.

They landed hard in the old, abandoned urgent care facility that had been turned into the new Unknowables headquarters. "This way," Barney said, gesturing down the hall. "Everyone else is already here."

"Oh?" Paul said, following Barney down the hall and rounding the corner into the meeting room. "Who else is —" he stopped, and he paused in the doorway. George waved at him and gestured to the empty seat beside him. Roger and Deaky were there, too, which threw Paul off for a second, but it made sense; they both waved at Paul. Darren was there, and Marbella, a few of the original Unknowables, and couple former Shadows that he recognized. And, finally, his eyes fell upon —

"Hello, Paul," Yoko said.

Paul pursed his lips. "Hello," he said shortly before sitting down next to George.

"Okay," said Darren. "I'm going to call this meeting to order."

"We have just a few things to address," Marbella said. "So this shouldn't take very long. But we want to make sure that we are all on the same page going forward."

"Let's start, for everybody's peace of mind, with the matter of John Lennon," Marbella said. "Paul, George, how are The Beatles faring?"

"We're, um, good?" George said.

"Do you foresee anything breaking up the band before December ninth of 1980?" Marbella asked.

"None that I can predict," Paul said. "But I'm always on the lookout for something."

"Good," Marbella said. "Now, are you currently planning another tour?"

"No," Paul said.

"Good," Marbella said. "Don't."

"Wha— why?" George asked, looking to Paul.

"Because we want John stationary in 1980," Darren said. "We want him to stay in the country."

"Are you planning on recording another Beatles album any time soon?" Marbella asked.

"We haven't discussed it," George said. "But why should that matter?"

"It matters because on the day of what would be John's death it would be really good if he was actively busy and has something tying him down where he is," Marbella said. "Listen, Paul, you know how I feel about this whole Lennon business. I don't think it's right. But as part of the terms of this alliance, I'm going along with it, and I know what I'm talking about. You need to have as many reasons to keep him in the country as possible."

Paul was frowning at her, but he nodded. "I know," he said. "I understand."

"Now, on to the matter of the F.H.O.," Darren said. "Going forward, we have more operatives entering the F.H.O. ranks to tear it down from the bottom than ever. We think that it will be a few more years before we have take over enough positions to be able to do that. It would be helpful if we could wiggle someone into the President's outer circle but that isn't an easy thing to say."

"At that rate, wouldn't you want someone in his inner circle?" Roger asked, and everyone looked at him, surprised that he had spoken at all. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I was just thinking that —"

"You don't get people into his inner circle," Darren cut him off, shaking his head. "I see where you're coming from, but it just can't happen. He decides who makes it into his inner circle and there's no way to sway his decision and there's no way to know exactly what criteria that person would need to meet. I was one of them once, and even I don't know what I did to get there. I have no hope of getting one of our people in there."

"We have two operative teams," Marbella said. "One of those teams is entering the F.H.O. ranks as desk workers, the other team will all begin training as F.H.O. field agents. We already have several people in desk job positions, working their way up the ranks of the technical side of things, but it's a real win for us to have our people out in the F.H.O.'s field."

"Now, when it comes time to take down the F.H.O., we are going from the inside," said Darren, "as you all know. And as most of you are already well aware, the F.H.O. and its leaders are not the type to go down without a fight. They're already at war in so many different places, in so many different centuries, the only way they'll go down is if we go to war with them."

"Why not try for peace?" George piped up.

"Give peace a chance," Yoko murmured.

"We're going to go in and, if all goes to plan, take those we must as prisoner," said Darren. "But if not, and if we are caught sneaking around inside of their headquarters, as I suspect we may be, then we will be prepared for a fight. We will not go in unarmed."

"Why go in at all, though?" Paul asked. "Why not draw them to us?"

"Paul, we have agonized over our decision again and again," Darren said. "There is no other way. Trust me, I know."

"I was brought here by the F.H.O.," Paul said. "I was told 'Trust us. We're the good guys.' I am done with blindly trusting. I am not saying that you're wrong, I'm only asking questions to make sure you're right."

"That's fair enough, Paul," Darren said. "I understand that. We can't just draw them out to us because then there is no way to go get to President Wilson. He'll never be drawn out into the field."

Paul frowned. "That makes sense."

"So," Marbella spoke up, "when we do have to go into what may turn into a battle, we need to know which of you is willing to come with us."

"I'll be there," Paul said.

"Me as well," George said.

"What?" Paul said, turning to his friend. "No, George, you can't."

"I can, just as well as you can," George said stubbornly.

"But, George —"

"If you two could please squabble on your own time," Marbella huffed. "We weren't extending the invitation to you. We were referring to our agents, as we are building a team, but Mr. McCartney, Mr. Harrison, Ms. Ono, Mr. Taylor, and Mr. Deacon, none of you will be allowed to come along."

"But —" Paul began to argue, but Darren held up a hand to silence him.

"The risk of losing any of you, disrupting history by pulling you out of it so abruptly, is to great," Darren said. "In the meantime, the five of you should continue on precisely as you have done. Live your lives, keep things as normal as they can be. You can all be excused while we talk to everyone else. Please wait across the hall for someone to come along and bring you back to your respective locations."

Paul frowned, but nodded. He, George, Roger, Deaky, and Yoko all did as they were told; they stood and left the room in a single file line. They piled into the office across from the one where they'd been sitting with Darren, Marbella, and some of the Unknowables agents.

"Paul," Yoko said. "Can we talk?"

"Right now?" Paul asked, eyebrows raised.

"It's as good a time as any, I think," Yoko said.

"No, I don't feel like it actually," Paul said. He crossed his arms and looked pointedly away from her.

"Oh, come on," George said, rolling his eyes.

Paul looked at him, surprised. "Do you have something to say, George?"

"Yeah, I do, actually," George said. "The two of you are bloody ridiculous, you are. You haven't talked in, what? Three years? Well, I've been talking to the both of you and you're being stupid. Yoko, what you said was wrong — Paul always puts John first, and has been putting John first for a very long time. I knew this before I knew that he was sent here from the future. And Paul, Yoko said a dumb thing, but you're being a drama queen — as per usual — and you hold grudges — don't make that face at me, Paul McCartney, you don't let anything go ever. Now can we all just talk things out, and get along again, because we're all still in this together. Those people out there only care that we help them. They don't really care of John lives. That means we have to care if John lives. We're the only ones who care. So we have to stick together — we have to keep being a team, or John's gonna die in a couple years."

Paul and Yoko looked at each other with guilty expressions, because no matter how they'd felt toward each other for the past few years, they could agree on one thing at least: George was right.

"We care," Deaky spoke up.

Paul, George, and Yoko all turned to look at him and Roger, confused.

"We care if John dies," Roger said. "If it means anything to you. Which, it might not."

"But if you need anything," Deaky said, "like, any help in saving him or anything. We care, and we're here to help."

"We can't save our friend," Roger said sadly. "That's not how — I mean, it's a — it's not a bullet with Freddie. We can't stop the AIDs crisis."

"But we can help you save your friend," Deaky said. "And that's something, at least."

Paul smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot."

***

It was February and after over a year of being on break, Paul and John finally got the grand idea that they could go on vacation. They finally had the time, George said that Martha could come stay with him, Olivia, and Dhani, and there weren't any plans to end their break; it was the perfect time to go.

And such was how they found themselves in Paris in May, for their wedding anniversary. They kind of wanted to go in October, the same time they had gone in 1961 when they'd kissed for the first time, but they were eager to get away for a little while, so they thought that a trip for their wedding anniversary would do nicely all the same.

They settled into their hotel — not the same one they stayed in back in 1961, that one was apparently closed down — and washed up before dinner, then John turned to Paul and said, "Why don't we go dancing?"

Paul looked at him, surprised. "Excuse me?" he said.

"We should go dancing in Paris," John said. "We haven't danced in so long."

"We can dance any time you want, you know," Paul said, threading his fingers through John's. "All you need to do is say the word. We can put a record on in the living room, turn the lights off and light a bunch of candles. We'll just dance."

"It's not the same," John sighed.

"Well, we can't dance in public," Paul said.

"We can if you know the right places," John said.

"Do you know the right places?" Paul asked, eyebrows raised.

"I may have done my research," John said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, then, lead the way," Paul said.

"You're going to need to get a little bit more dressed up than that," John said.

"All right," Paul said. "Will do."

So Paul and John put on the nicest suits they owned these days, seeing as The Beatles didn't have as much of an image to keep up ⁠— being the most famous band in the world, and all — and could dress pretty much however they wanted to. They headed out and into the cool, Paris night. The stars were bright, and the Eiffel Tower looked even brighter, but they passed it all by and delved deeper into the city's nightlife.

"This way," John said, grabbing Paul's wrist and ducking down an alleyway, dragging his husband along with him. At the end of the alleyway, they made a sharp turn into another alley. This one, however, looked a whole lot nicer than the one they'd just been in; it was cleared of dumpsters and trash, and the fairy lights that hung in a criss-cross pattern between the walls, above their heads, distracted from the chips in the bricks. They came to a stop at the end of the alley, in front of a metal door. John knocked, and a man emerged from within.

A flicker of recognition passed through the man's eyes, which is possibly why he didn't ask any questions. He stepped aside and getsured for them to enter, closing the door tightly behind them once they had passed over the threshold. "Enjoy your night," he said in a brusque voice, before taking up his sturdy position at the door.

"This way," John said, though there was no other way to go except for down the hallway that laid before them.

"What is this place?" Paul asked, grinning, as they entered the main room.

"It's a gay speakeasy," John said, matching Paul's grin.

It was a nice place. It wasn't too crowded — Paul guessed that it either wasn't very popular (which was a possibility, all things considered), or that they got in so easily because of who they were (which was also a very real possibility). There was a bar stocked with very nice bottles of different wines and champagnes, and tables lined the walls, and the center of the room was cleared so as to create a dance floor. The lighting was low and romantic. The room was occupied only by men — the only woman in sight was standing behind an old-fashioned microphone on the small stage standing in the corner of the room, singing a sultry tune — but most people were coupled up and slow dancing.

"John," Paul said very softly. "I understand the discretion of this place, but we're still us."

"Yeah," John said. "But who wants to admit that they were here to see us, hm?"

Paul smiled. "Yeah."

"Dance with me," John said, and Paul nodded, pulling John to the dance floor.

The woman on stage began a new song, singing sweetly.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens

Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche

Voila le portrait sans retouche

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Qu'il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose.

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça me fait quelque chose."

"Paul?" John said softly in Paul's ear.

"Hm?" Paul replied.

"Il est entré dans mon coeur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause."

"Why don't we just move out here, hm?" John asked, but Paul didn't answer right away.

"C'est lui pour moi. Moi pour lui dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie.

Et dès que je l'aperçois."

"Well, I'd miss George and Ringo too much," Paul finally replied. "And we're going to start being The Beatles again at some point."

John hummed.

"Alors je sens en moi

Mon coeur qui bat

Des nuits d'amour a plus finir

Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place

Des enuis des chagrins, s'effacent

Heureux, heureux a en mourir.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras."

"I was just thinking about how much more lively it is out here," John said. "That's all it was, I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose.

Il me dit des mots d'amour."

"Paris is nice and all," said Paul, "but home is lively enough for me. I've got you."

John smiled, and they danced.

"Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça me fait quelque chose.

Il est entré dans mon coeur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause.

C'est toi pour moi. Moi pour toi dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie uuuh.

Et dès que je t'aperçois

Alors je sens en moi

Mon coeur qui bat."

***

Paul was spending a lot more time with Dhani while he was young this time around. Last time Paul was living through 1979, he and George were on the rocks. They were on their way to being friends again, but that didn't mean that they were quite there yet. Now, though, was a completely different story. Come July of 1979, George and Ringo were over at John and Paul's house every other day with Dhani and Lee. Olivia would come with George pretty often. Maureen wouldn't come with Ringo all that much (but then, she and Ringo were supposed to be divorced about five years earlier so Paul figured it was only a matter of time; he wondered if this was going to set Ringo's relationship with Barbara back at all, figuring that it probably would), but Lee liked the pool and she adored baby Dhani.

This pattern, of Ringo and George coming over very often with their kids, continued well into August, as did the sweltering heat. One day, in the middle of August, Paul, John, George, Ringo, Dhani, and Lee were out by the pool. George was trying to figure out how to work the inflatable armbands for Dhani, who was now a year old. George was determined to get him to swim.

"It's not that difficult," John huffed, trying to help but George only batted his hand away.

"He's not going to swim!" Ringo exclaimed. "He's barely turned one, you're still going to have to hold him in the pool, and you're wasting your time."

For Dhani's part, he seemed perfectly content with crawling around in the dirt and yanking the grass out of the ground.

Paul was laughing at the scene before him when he heard the doorbell ringing from inside the house. He picked up his t-shirt which lay discarded on the ground beside his lawn chair and tossed it on over his swim trunks. "Be back in a flash," he said, not that anyone made any sign that they had heard him. They were all too busy fighting over the floaties.

Paul opened the sliding glass door and went through the house. The doorbell rang again, and he called out, "I'm coming!" He padded, barefooted, up to the door, swung it open, ready to greet whoever was on the other side, then gasped, "Oh."

"Hi, Paul," Yoko said.

"Um, hi," Paul said. "I didn't know you were coming."

"I know," Yoko said. "I'm sorry. I should've — I should've called first."

Paul eyed the bag slung over her shoulder. "Are you —"

"Oh, I've got a place to stay," she said quickly. "I'm checking in at a hotel."

"Why are you here?" Paul asked.

"I wanted to see you," Yoko said.

"Not here at my house here," Paul said. "I meant here in England here."

"I wanted to see you," Yoko repeated.

"You flew all the way to England just to see me face-to-face and didn't even bother to ring and see if I'd be home?" Paul said, eyebrows raised.

"Well," she said, "yeah."

To Yoko's surprise, Paul laughed. "I have missed you."

"I've missed you, too," Yoko said, smiling. "And I'm sorry about —"

"Me, too," Paul said. "It's in the past, yeah?"

"Yeah," Yoko said.

"Come in, then," Paul said. "You're welcome to stay with us."

"Are you sure?" Yoko said. "Because it's not any trouble for me to go check into a hotel. I mean, I showed up unannounced and —"

"Nonsense," Paul said. "We've got the space, anyway. How long are you staying?"

"Just the weekend," Yoko said. "My plane back to the States leaves Sunday, just past noon."

"Wonderful," Paul said brightly. "Come on in. George and Ringo are here with the kids. We're all hanging out by the pool. You can drop your bag in the kitchen." He led her through the kitchen and out the sliding glass door in the back of the house. "Look who decided to drop by!"

"Oh my god!" Ringo laughed when he spotted who it was. "Hi!"

George and Ringo both rushed to greet Yoko, catch up, ask her how she's doing, and hear about how she likes New York City. (George had seen Yoko a few months back, but Ringo and John didn't know that.)

Lee was perfectly indifferent to Yoko's presence, and continued to swim about in the pool, while John scooped the baby out of the grass and walked over to stand at Paul's side. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked.

"You two ended on a pretty nasty note," John said.

"Well, yeah, but," Paul sighed, shrugged, "I don't know. I miss her."

John hummed.

"I do," Paul said. "We talked."

"On the phone?" John said. He adjusted Dhani in his arms as the baby began to squirm.

"Yeah," Paul lied. He'd just been planning to tell John that they talked when Yoko had turned up on the doorstep just now, but that was a much better lie.

"Did you know she was coming?" John asked. The Why didn't you tell me she was coming? was silent, unspoken, but it was there.

"No," Paul said.

"So she turned up uninvited," John said.

"Yeah," Paul said. "It's weird. I don't know what to make of it. But I do miss her."

"Does she expect to stay the night?" John questioned.

"She was going to get a hotel, she didn't expect us to do anything for her," Paul said. "But I've told her she can sleep here until she leaves. She'll be gone on Sunday. If that's all right with you. Please."

"Yeah, I don't care," John said. "I'm fine with whatever. I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"I'm grand, John," Paul said, smiling. "Just grand."

"Well, then, so am I," John said.

***

December snuck up on Paul that year. One second it's August, they're laughing by the pool, next thing he knew it was halfway through autumn. They took a trip to America and went to Vermont for a week in October, they went apple-picking with Harrisons early in November, then later that month Ringo came over, distraught, because he and Maureen were getting a divorce. Then bam! next thing Paul knew, he was standing in the kitchen at 23:59 on December 7, watching the clock tick until it was December 8, and that was that.

"One year," he said to himself, tears welling up in his eyes. He was shaking like a leaf, though one minute previous he'd been steady as can be. He blew out an uneven breath and nodded slowly to himself. He could do this. He could do this. "I can do this," he told himself aloud.

After all, wasn't this what he had been sent here to do? This is what he'd been here for all along — for nearly nineteen years, now. Everything he'd been through, everything he'd done and everything he'd tried to do, everything he'd fixed and everything he'd accidentally broken, everything he wanted, everything he needed, everything came down to this last year.

He could do this. (Right?)