Re-awaken -3rd person POV

Paul paced, then sat shuffling through his messages from the office in London, then paced again, wearing the proverbial hole in the carpet.

She was late, it was now noon, the ticking of the clock harassed his senses, a reminder of the slipping sands, a reminder that he would leave Australia in around thirty hours' time, not a second more.

It had been so long, so much time passed the both of them by, but they were still connected with some sort of invisible thread.

Just like he was with Ringo and George, even John, although other worldly, with John now being gone. A link to what was, a link to each other somehow unbroken, a link to the heady days of mayhem- Beatlemania and before, simpler times, innocent days.

"Look who I found"

Stella stepped through the unlocked door arm in arm with a woman she barely knew, but at the same time felt comfort that, that same woman made her dad spark and come alive again.

A spark of life cutting through the sadness that surrounded his person.
Sure, he entertained thousands at gigs but as soon as he left the stage the hollowness of loss took over, an almost robotic like functioning in his daily life.

"Hi! Sorry, I slept in. I'm definitely not used to having all-nighters!" Abigail let out a breath, a relaxation in the nerves that ate away at her since the moment she woke, although the meaning of woke assumed that she must have been asleep prior. She wasn't rested, her mind replayed the nights events and those of almost thirty years previous, in those early hours instead.

Hailey and Stella quickly vacated to an adjoining room, the soft sound of the connecting door gently closing woke a revere in him for his daughter- wise beyond her years.

As Abigail hovered by the door as if to flee some hidden danger, Paul stood unmoved at his spot by the desk. The two of them feared everything could be too far away.

That it was too far away to recapture.

So they floundered, lost to each other, the hotel suite disappeared and space stretched and gulfed between them, although in reality it was but a few measly feet.

Her hand felt behind her for the cold steel of the door knob, grasping it like a life raft. She begun clenching and unclenching the handle, hoping the steel would absorb her shaking body's jitters.

Paul she sighed internally. Was here.

A gust of wind blew, the curtains swayed and lept wildly about, the breeze was warm and, as it swept through the hotel room,... 

Every piece of paper, business and pleasure, seemed to be tossed up and spun, then settled on the floor between them.

Abigail rushed forward, the cleaner in her appearing without question. Gathering, piling and moving ever closer to Paul as he gather the documents to his chest from his side of the room. His hand snatched up the last piece and he finally spoke.

"Beat 'cha!" the cheeky grin froze on his face as he realised just how close she was, their foreheads almost touching, another type of magic energy entered the room and rose quickly to swirl around them.

She kissed him, in an almost 'seize the moment' kind of way. Paul was addled, bemused by Abigail's forwardness but quickly relaxed and enjoyed.

Abigail stunned herself, she hadn't kissed anyone like this in years but this was Paul and it seemed nothing went to plan when Paul was around.

It was natural.

It was them.

Years peeled away and the night in Paris loomed and the smattering of special moments at Cavendish Road that were denied air, remembered.

As they met on the floor in that little hotel room hallway the papers fell away from Pauls chest. Abigail instead was cushioned there now and the world seemed right. Pain and heartbreak disappeared, old crushes rose and came alive as if Paris and London were mere yesterdays, not decades past.

The kiss started sweet enough then spun, weaving a spell about them, hints of passion flared. He took her lips gently at first, as if fearing she would disappear from view. Cupping his hands gently, fingers retracing her face, then they wandered on, moving to lace through her wonderful mane of hair. Finally they lay claim at the nape of her neck. He breathed life back into her heart.

Abigail tried to think straight- this was so wrong but so gloriously right. Too much time but none at all. Off kilter and high on emotions, her tongue slipped his lips and a groan escaped him. She ended up, back on the floor, as Paul took control- her lips, her mouth, her tongue, her.

Nothing stopping the assault on the senses. They rushed without thought to regather what Abigail ran from, and breath it back to life.

Knocking sounded in the distance, gentle at first then incessantly. The pair looked at each other dazed and slightly embarrassed at what had happened. So quick was the returning special feelings that had been theirs, that it left them mildly, but happily, confused.

The knocking was, of course, the door and Paul slowly rose to find out what the problem was.

"Sir" The waiter stood solemnly by a trolley, his eyes unintentionally flickering around the room seeing papers, Abby sat on the carpet and noticing the dishevel about them both, he quickly averted his gaze. "Ordered by your daughter sir. Lunch for two".

"Oh, ok ..... thanks. I'll. I'll take it from here" Paul took the trolley pulling it through the door, handing the young man a tip, quickly closing the door on the interruption.

As the trolley acted as a blockade between them, they took in the situation, any passion fled and the harsh daylight and years returned unfortunately. Settling the mood back into that awkwardness Abigail had before, as she held the door knob so tight.

"Lunch.. is served!" Paul, ever the trooper, lightened the mood in a few words, clapping his hands together.

Lifting a napkin, laying it over his forearm, acting like a waiter. He calmly scooped Abby off the floor as if it was a usual occurrence, then he lead Abigail to the table, seated her and set out the meal for them. Abigail sat mute, agog at all that was happening- last night, today. When satisfied with his efforts Paul sat down close beside her, not opposite, no further than the necessary distance so they could move their arms to eat.

"This is lovely" Abigail grinned as she took a sip of white wine, Paul clinked her glass in toast and they drank together. "I'm so spoilt!"

"It's not spoiling someone when you have to eat, Abs" Paul grabbed a roll broke it in half and handed her a piece. Her name rolling so familar off his tongue.

As the wine lowered Abigail finally found her tongue proper and proceeded to entrance Paul about her life in the Australian countryside, she always managed to find the happy times never touching the sad. Until she realised she had floated around any issue of the past, and found suddenly, that she wanted to try somehow to explain.

"I wanted to talk to you at the funeral but Linda.... the children. It just seemed... wrong" Abigail worried her lip as she brought up the very last time she had indeed seen him with her own eyes; the day of Jim McCartney's funeral. "So many years Paul.. I must seem so old now"

"Only same as me Abby, but you've kept much better than me of course" Paul was a champion flirt but this was true she looked no older than forty- no thirty. Hailey's older sister not her mother.

"What do we tell the new found twins" Abigail nodded towards the door Stella and Hailey had disappeared through ages ago.

"Truth, I guess?"

"John, me ...... you" Abigail frowned recalling her feelings. Even today, a million miles from those days, they still etched her face with love and sorrow and confusion.. she laid her head on the table and groaned in frustration.

Paul pushed the bread plates and wine aside "Yes, why not"

Abigail cringed as she turned slightly and look up at Paul from her position, head still resting on the table "Because, sir, I will appear the harlot to your, and my, daughter's!"

"It's ancient history, luv"

"Well thanks very much, When I'm Sixty-Four writer" She spoke to the table cloth and shook her head and giggled quietly.

"They are both grown women. Lord we are old. Grown women, all my daughter's are! Anyway, yes, they're big girls. Knowing Stella, she has more than likely weaved some sort of fantasy tale anyway" Paul shook her shoulder gently and she finally looked up him again, to which he was thankful. Her eyes roamed his face and he saw hope shining brightly back.

As if the God's themselves had planned it, two young women knocked in unison on the door and again, in unison, calling out "That's it. Times up you two." Followed up by a deadpan "Let us in dad" from Stella.

Paul gave up his place and, in the walk to the door, ceded the luxury of having Abigail all to himself.

As Stella and Hailey tumbled through the door almost falling to the floor, it was obvious that they had had their ears pressed up against the wood listening, Abby packed up all the dishes and sat with Hailey on the couch.

Paul, obviously not happy with the seating arrangements, grasped Hailey gently by the shoulders and re-positioned her beside Stella, then popped himself down next to Abigail, both girls 'oohing' silently then a case of the giggles broke forth. Abigail shifted a little, not out of Paul's radius, just enough to give her the feel of her own emotions safety.

And so it begins....