George sighed, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. He backed off and rested against a wall.

“So? How’s he gonna be?” Ringo asked unsure, picking the leftovers of bandages from the floor. John was only sitting in silence, watching George.

“He’ll live. I told you, it’s not a mortal wound. He needs a rest.”

Everyone turned their sight to the stranger, asking quietly, what was he doing here, who was he, why were they helping him? If Thought Police was chasing him, the boy had probably commited some crime. Doesn’t matter, if pointless one. But he did. By getting involved in this, they were putting themselves in a goddamn big risk. Cocking a snook at the Party. However the thoughtcrime was committed in a silence of their own minds, this one…

Harrison bit his lips. “Did you even wonder what now?”

Of course, he didn’t receive any answer. Lennon shrugged and got up suddenly, walking around the room, far away in his own thoughts. Finally, he looked at the lovers with an astute spark in his eyes, murmured something about coming back later and — left. Just like this.

There was a silence.

George was in the Room with Ringo one-on-one.

He took a shaky breath.

Even if the last events let him forget about the ex-lover’s presence, now everything came back with twice as much strength. This small space that separated them… the young man’s heart started beating faster, remembering pain of the past days.

Naturally, Richard was the one to break this silence. “Nobody knows what’s now, am I right?”

The younger one sighed, trying his best not to look at Starkey. “Did anyone ever know though?”

Ringo moved nervously. He was drawing some pattern in a dust, somehow absently. “We’re now in this together. We have to keep going, y’know?” he said gently, but with a sad smile.

“Why us? Why us?” Harrison couldn’t stop a wave of a bitterness that spilled out from between his lips. “Nobody ever asked me if I want to take my part in this. Nobody.”

“George, you said y-”

“I’m not talking about this.” He hasn’t agreed to live in this world. He hasn’t agreed to fall in love. He hasn’t agreed to live in a constant thoughtcrime. He hasn’t agreed to any risk he’s taken. But nobody has given him any choice; the fate has just thrown him in a middle of all this, in a middle of the havoc, smothered feelings, and lies. It hurt to think about this miserable life. “I didn’t want… I…” All the triade he prepared got stuck in is throat and the brown-eyed man groaned quietly, burying his head in hands.

Almost immediately he felt a pair of hands, embracing him in a familiar hug.

“Richard… No.”

He pushed him away. Pushed every feeling for Richard away — from fear. How could Starkey be even nice to him, after all of this?

“Shh…” The older one stroke his head lovingly. George let himself cling to Ringo. “We’ll make it. We will.”

“I hope so,” Harrison sniffed.

We.

The new beginning.

The two men were hugging each other on the attic, consumed by fear, hid from the rest of the world, having the unconscious boy as a silent witness.

* * *

“He’s waking up.”

Everybody watched the dark-haired stranger, as he moved slightly and raised his head to the wounded forehead. John got up and walked to him with mixed emotions on his face. George and Ringo shared unsure glances.

It took a while, until the boy blinked. The sunlight hit his eyes mercilessly, so he had to shut them, groaning. And then all the blurred memories came back, because he jumped and looked around in panic.

“Where…” He saw the three men, surrounding him, as vultures circling their prey. He gritted his teeth. “Fuck you! I won’t tell you anything! You won’t squeeze anything out of me! So go home, wankers! Go. Fucking. Home!”

Lennon raised his eyebrow. “You got the wrong guys, darling.”

The wounded one tried to get up but ended falling on the floor again, looking at the rest hatefully, as if it was their fault. Their fault that he was alive, indeed.

“Hey, hey, easy there,” Ringo touched his arm gently. “I wouldn’t recommend you getting up now. Rest.”

He received only a harsh scream. “Don’t touch me!” Even though the young man was defying and acting tough, the one could notice a spark of childish fear in his big eyes. No surprise. He was sure that he’s deep down in the dungeons of Ministry of Love, surrounded by the Party’s members, ready to torture him in every cruelly sophisticated way, to squeeze even a small piece of testimonies out of him. Little did he know that the Party wasn’t messing around proles — killing them instantly. That he was unusually lucky.

So now he tried to act stubborn. Brave. Unbending. Absolutely terrified inside in the same time.

“Hard one,” John commented. The dark-haired boy backed off and spat.

“Lennon, for fuck’s sake,” Ringo sighed. George remained silent so far, watching everything without any word, not really knowing what to think.

The stranger expected first hit. But the hit didn’t happen, which gave him more confidence. “I won’t tell you anything,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” said Lennon with voice so full of sarcasm, that it hurt. “‘Cause we, the Thought Police,” he pointed at the three Outer Party’s members “here, in the Ministry of Love,” he pointed at the dirty attic’s walls “fully armed and very dangerous, are going to torture you for hella important information of you. By the way, nice impudence, breaking into somebody’s house, and asking, where you are! Come on!”

John Lennon’s typical charm. Nobody expected it to help in this situation anyhow though.

The boy blinked and looked at him in some different way than before. Less… hostile? So Lennon’s charm really worked?

“We just want to help you,” said Richard.

“We’ve wasted our bandages on you,” added John.

“And nerves,” George spoke suddenly, giving the sign, that he’s present too.

Distrust disappeared from the stranger’s eyes. “I was running away from the Police,” he murmured, more like to himself, looking at the floor. “They caught me, but then one of the bombs fell down.” Bombs were falling on the city practically every day; Oceania happened to be in a state of war. “Everything was so… white and white. I ran away. And hid in some random house. Because I was scared, okay?! I heard voices. And then… then… darkness.”

“And you passed out on my floor, so we carried you here,” John nicely summed everything up.

And then there was silence again; sound of three breaths. The stranger sighed. “Are you going to blow the whistle on me?”

Harrison snorted. John burst out with a bitter laugh. Ringo only rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“So… why, the hell, are you helping me?”

Richard opened his mouth to say something, but Lennon was quicker: “Besides our wonderful kindness, we would be killed with you, probably on the next loop, so… we’re in the same boat, mate!”

The whole mercy atmosphere went to hell.

Now the boy was thinking intensively. It was obvious that he calmed down and relaxed a little — as much as his situation let him to — resting with head against the wall. George noticed how beautiful was he; now they could see it clearly. Soft, femine facial features, gifted with long eyelashes, blessed by sun — he looked so innocent. Not like a criminal. This word didn’t fit him.

“I’m John,” said the owner of this house. “It’s Richard and George.”

The unusual guest nodded, but didn’t introduce himself.

“You’ve got a few stitches, oh, and don’t leave this place now. It’s not very safe.”

“We will help you,” Starkey spoke. Sympathy and honesty sparkled in his blue eyes, like a calm ocean in the sunny day, making it hard not to believe.

Harrison did notice the way John was staring at the boy. Fascinated? Suddenly the Outer Party’s member felt, that he won’t bear it any longer and left without a word, nearly running, heading towards the door. At the doorstep he heard somebody approaching. Ringo took his hand, concerned.

“Did something happen?”

“I… I just need to think about all of this. Tell me… tell me, how’s he doing and all…”

“There is… something warm about him? I can’t describe it, but I feel it,” his ex-lover stated. “It may sound stupid.” Nervous laugh. “But I trust him.”

“Me too,” Harrison sighed. “Just give me time, okay?”

“Yeah.” Starkey looked at him as if he wanted to say something, maybe something important, but lost his courage, let it burn and die. Everyone lost it. George lost it long ago. Miserable world of ashes.

Suddenly the blue-eyed man stood on his toes, kissed him in the cheek slightly, turned around, and left.

Harrison froze, trying to remain calm, trying… trying to breathe. You can’t. You wanted to cut it out. No.

But he couldn’t deny how immensely he missed the closeness of his ex-lover right now. So he gave up this wave of warm feelings and walked back home.