Elle's POV

I was pressed against Paul when I woke in the morning. He always seemed to find his way next to me. I don't know if it was on purpose, or if he just gravitated to the middle of the bed. Our noses were touching, and my lips begged to feel his, but I resisted. 

I began to slip out of his arms when he groaned, "Stay with me, love."

"Paul, we're going to be late for our train. We don't want Brian on our case. Again." I mocked his accent, which was pretty fun. 

"Five more minutes, Mother." Paul pulled his pillow over his head. 

"You sound like me in the morning before school."

After a few moments, he said, "Elle, are you ticklish on your neck?"

"Why? Are you going to tickle me?"

"I'm just wondering. I want to get to know you better."

"Mmm hmm." I hummed accusingly. 

"I'm serious."

"And I'm protecting myself from future tickle attacks."

He opened his bright eyes. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll find out." He buried his face in my neck, knowing that it would drive me crazy. 

Surprisingly, it didn't sting as much as it tickled.

"Paul! Paul, stop it!" I laughed. "Paul!" He was so persistent. I tried to push him off of me, but he wouldn't budge. But then I figured I could do the same with you. I began to tickle him. 

"Oh, Elle, stop! I'm ticklish!" 

I chased him around the room until our sides hurt from running around and trying to tackle each other on the bed. But soon we were interrupted. 

"Will you two behave like adults and get moving?" Brian fumed. "We've got a train to catch."

Paul and Brian exchanged a few more unpleasant words before he left to talk to John. 

"Hurry up. We've got a train to catch." Paul mocked as soon as Brian left. 

I quickly got changed in the bathroom, washing my hair and face. I pulled on a dress that was light green in color, like the shade of new spring grass. My slightly damp hair was incredibly curly. That happened sometimes when I got it wet. 

When I came out and was packing my suitcase, Paul said, "You look different."

"Different how? Different weird?"

"No, you just look really nice today."

Did I not look good the day before?

"Thanks."

Paul surprised me by reaching over to my neck. I instinctively backed away, thinking of my father.

"I-I won't hurt you, Elle. I wanted to see your necklace." He said, his eyes looking guilty that he scared me. 

"Oh, it's...it's a locket. From my mom." I took the small pendant in my hand, and held it so he could see. 

"It's beautiful." 

"Thank you."

John walked in then. He smirked at us. "Once you're done examining Elle, would you be so kind as to help get George up?"

I looked down at the ground to hide my blush. Paul stuttered out a reply and left with John. I finished packing as Ringo came out. 

"Morning, Elle."

"Morning, Ritchie."

He smiled at the use of his nickname. Sitting down next to me on the couch, he said, "You don't look like an Elle. It's too...feminine for you."

I had to laugh a little at the comment and he did too. "Well, I've got a name for you. What do you want to call me?"

He pondered the thought for a moment. "What about...Aubrey?"

"That would work. It's a nice sounding name."

Brian walked in again, with a few assistants carrying bags. "We need to leave. Now."

"They're in their rooms. They should be ready."

Then Brian asked Ringo what was going on last night. He could barely hear himself think. It sounded like someone was being murdered. 

Ringo was about to say something, but I spoke for him. 

"John and I were arguing last night. We did and said...a lot of things that we regretted, and, well, I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, I see." He looked like he wished to have words with John and I in private. That was not going to be pretty. "Well, then. Ringo, fetch the lads, will you?"

Ringo did as he was told, meanwhile Brian sat down next to me on the couch. 

"Elle, tell me exactly what happened last night-"

But then all of the lads came back and Paul asked Brian a question. Saved. Though I knew I wasn't going to get off that easily. 

We checked out of the hotel, and when the cars pulled up to the sidewalk, I felt Paul lace his fingers into mine and lead me towards the car with the lads. But Brian stopped him. 

"Elle's riding with us. I have a few things to ask her." Brian demanded. Paul argued with him for a minute, but then let me go. 

Once we got into the black car, I spoke: "Mr. Epstein, is this about the fact that I've been running off with John and George-"

"Pardon my interruption, but you can call me Brian. And, no, this is not about your excursions. I wanted to ask you about your argument with John. You two both seem very...strong-willed. And I can see that your wills clash. What happened last night?"

I bit my lip. "Um...well, you're right. We don't always get along. And last night, John and I...exchanged words loudly-One of the assistants added, "Very loudly."- and I left, because I was frustrated with him. Paul and Ringo went after me, and George started yelling at John because of what he said to me. That's it, really."

I didn't want to tell him exactly what he said to me. It still stung to think about it.

No wonder that boy talked to you. He must have taken pity. Either that or he felt like he didn't have a chance with women who have class. Or are better-looking.

The look on his face was the worst thing. John looked like he had truly meant everything he said.

Brian nodded solemnly, even though he only began to understand what happened.

Once we arrived at the train station, Paul immediately took my hand and we all raced for the train. We were lucky enough to find an empty compartment.

I sat down next to Paul and we read the newspaper together. That is until I realized he wasn't reading, but looking down my shirt. I shoved him away from me while he and the lads laughed. I blushed horribly.

Someone opened our compartment door.

"How are you lot?" Brian asked.

There were a few choruses of "Good" and "Fine." I said, "I feel violated."

The lads laughed. Brian looked like he didn't want to hear what I said.

"I'm going to the dining car. Do you want something?"

The lads asked for Coca-Colas. I asked for water. Brian took note of everything and left.

A group of girls walked by our compartment, and a few of them gazed at the lads. One of them winked and gave a flirtatious wave, which definitely captured the lads attention. How do girls do that? Whenever I try to wink I look like I've got an eye twitch.

Paul, Ringo and George shared a look, which included a creeping smile. They stood up.

"John, are you coming?" Paul said. John shook his head. "I've got to keep this one in check." He looked at me.

Someone's going to flip the table, and most likely it's going to be me.

The boys looked like they wanted to say, "You're missing out." And they left after the girls.

After a few moments of silence between us, I said: "What do you want, John?"

"I want to talk."

I looked out the window at the blurred city passing by. I felt a hand reach over and guide my chin back towards John. "Elle, please look at  me. I need to tell you something."

"If this is about what happened last night, I don't want to hear it." He withdrew his hand, looking down at the ground. 

"I wanted to apologize. What I said to you last night was horrible."

I didn't reply. John seemed incredibly awkward and out-of-place. Apologies weren't his strong suit. 

"So?"

"So what?"

"Do you forgive me?"

"John, I...I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why not?" His voice was raised a bit louder than it should have been. I raised mine too. 

"Because I know you're going to do it again. That's why!" I snapped. 

His dark eyes took on a softer expression, and his face fell. This John was so...strange. The real one kept his feelings bottled up inside. What had I done to him?

"I see." He muttered ruefully. "This is about him. After I berated you in front of everyone, you run off and cry to Paul."

I felt my face heat with anger. "At least he's kind. He's not a self-centered, heartless arse like yourself." I scorned. The only time I thought that was good when I said it in my mind, because when I saw the look on John's face I knew I had hurt him."

"Paul's right." He said, looking at me with sad eyes. "You are terribly honest." 

With that he got up and left the train cabin.

"Elle."

"Elle, wake up. We're at our stop."

I woke up to warm hazel eyes looking down on me. 

"Come along now. It's late. Once we get home, you're going to bed." It was cute the way he acted like an older brother to me. "You're going to want your jacket. It's cold."

The five of us left the cabin, and I avoided John's eyes. The lads definitely noticed the tension between us, but knew better than to ask. 

I felt horrible for snapping at him today. Mostly because John has been there all of my life. 

Okay, I feel a story coming on.

When I was born, my baby room's theme was Imagine. It had animals playing around on the ceiling with copies of John's drawings all of the walls. My blanket was covered in elephants that had music notes coming out their trunks. My mobile played Imagine. 

My mom always had The Beatles playing around the house when I was young. She would sing along with it as she worked, and sometimes she would pick me up and dance with me. Whenever we went on road-trips, they would be playing in the car. 

But John. Mom loved John. She said that she loved all of the lads, but John was special. 

John was my favorite before going there. But now that I've met him, he was so different from the Beatle that I thought I knew. 

The car ride took forever, but eventually Paul and I left at his place. When he was opening the door, Paul said, "Did you like your London trip, Miss Sullivan?"

"I loved it, Mr. McCartney. But I suppose it is good to be back to your home. Liverpool, sweet Liverpool." I said, mocking his accent. He smiled.

"It's your home too."

"What?"

"Well, I mean, you're probably going to be here for awhile, so I reckon that it can be your home too." He fumbled with his words. 

It's sad to say that Paul made me feel more welcome in his flat than my dad did in my own house. 

"I don't think I ever truly got to thank you for what you've done for me." I said, meeting his eyes for a moment. "If I was in the future, I probably would be out on the streets right now. You all are so nice."

Paul shrugged it off. "You would have done the same."

I sat on the couch later that night, working on a few files for Brian. 

"Paul?"

"Yes?" He said, sitting down next to me.

"I'm crunching some numbers. Will you help me?"

"To be honest, I wasn't very good at Maths in school, but I'll try." He examined the papers, and announced: "The answer is 459 pounds."

"Ah, you're pretty smart, Paul." I wrote down the numbers.

"No, I can't be smart! I'm too pretty!" He cried. I rolled my eyes at his dramatic shouts.

I soon finished the papers, and yawned. Paul smiled. 

"Tired?" 

I nodded. 

"You're taking the bed tonight. I'll take the couch."

"No, Paul, you need to take the bed. You're the one who works all day."

He made his point by sprawling across the couch, forcing me off. 

"Fine." I said. I went up into his room, but I couldn't reach the back of my dress to unbotton it. I was wearing a tank top underneath it, and I figured that I could ask Paul to get the top buttons for me. 

"Paul?"

He must have been right outside my door, because he came right in. "Yes, Elle?"

"Will you help me unbutton my dress?" 

He smiled eagerly. 

"Just the top ones, Paul. Don't get too happy."

He sat down on the bed behind me, being gentle where he put his fingers. His breath tickled my bruised neck as he tenderly undid my dress. Once he had finished, he lifted my chin to meet his eyes. 

I was lost in his eyes, my lips begging to feel his. 

So I leaned in and gently kissed the corner of his lip. 

And in that tiny kiss, I knew that he was smitten.

I don't know if it was a dream, or if it was reality, but he pressed his lips against mine, wrapping his arms around me, closing the space between our bodies. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful.

But then he accidentally bumped my neck and I cried out in pain. 

How could you kiss Paul while John is miserable about you? My dad's voice tore through my head. 

Then I was falling. But instead of crashing into the bed, I landed on something hard and cold. The dark sky was ominous as though it was waiting for something to happen. I was sprawled out on the sidewalk. Where was I?

The street wasn't busy, and there were two figures about a block in front of me. One was suspiciously behind the other, his hand reaching into his jacket.

I looked up at the building, and recognized it instantly. 

The Dakota.

No.

I ran down the sidewalk. 

"John!" I screamed. "John, run!" 

The man named John couldn't seem to hear me, which made me run faster. The cold air chilled my bones and shivers shot down my spine as I raced towards the man I needed to save.

"John! Move!"

The man behind him raised his arm and took aim.

"Mr. Lennon."

"JOHN!" I shrieked. 

Four shots rang out in the darkness. A woman screamed. Yoko.

Then everything seemed to freeze. Screams and shouts were muffled and grew higher, like shrieking monsters. An ambulence chirped in the distance. John stood for a moment, stunned. But then he fell forward, unable to support himself.

I dived to the ground next to him. I turned him over, so I could see his face. He had tears in his eyes. He seemed to notice me for the first time. 

"Elle." I whispered. "What's...what's happening...?"

"You're...you're going to fall asleep, John. Just...just close your eyes."

He coughed loudly. His brown eyes brimmed with pain. "Elle, I'm...scared. I hurt...everywhere."

"No, no." I tried to sooth him, even though I was crying too. "Don't be scared. You're going to be fine. Just close your eyes." I stroked his soft brown hair. But when I reached the hair on his neck, my hand was sticky with too- real red blood.

"Elle..." John whispered. His head rolled back in my arms and he went still. The life died in his eyes. I lifted his head up, pressing my forehead against his. He was so cold. 

"No." I cried. "You can't die. This can't happen. It's why I came back. I'm supposed to save you and George. You had to live..."

"John." I sobbed. "John. John, I'm so sorry..."

I shot up, tears stinging my eyes. My heart was pounding, and my hair was slicked against my back with sweat. I was screaming.

My frantic awakening woke Paul up, who was sleeping beside me. He turned the lamp on, and tried to stop my screams. 

I took into account of a few things. One, I wearing my sweatshirt. Therefore, I never kissed Paul, because I fell while I was in my dress. Secondly, I must have moved forward in time, and then came back.

Or I was just dreaming. 

I hoped I was just dreaming.

"Elle, what happened?" Paul said, concern in his eyes.

My stomach was churning. I ripped the covers off of me. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I ran to the bathroom, and spilled my guts in the toilet. Paul followed me, and pulled my hair back. Once I had finished dry-heaving, I rinsed my mouth and kneeled on my legs next to Paul. 

"I'm sorry." I whimpered. 

"It's fine. It's not the first time someone's thrown up here. Don't ask." He said, sleepily. He helped me up. "Let's get you back to bed."

Once we were back in his room he asked me what happened. 

"I had a nightmare. And I wasn't feeling good either. That's all." 

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't tell him about the dream. It revealed too much.

Paul didn't question me further. He wrapped his arms around me as we laid in bed. It was like he was making sure that he could protect me from the darkness surrounding us.

That morning we left for the studio. I couldn't handle the silence between John and I, though I couldn't bring myself to talk to him either. So I left a note tucked between the strings in the second fret of his guitar. 

He looked at me when he found it, and for a moment I could see the man in my dream. My heart pounded. 

The note read:

I will always forgive you.