If the boys hadn't officially made it in England before, they had then.  

They were everywhere.  You couldn't walk past a record store without seeing them in the windows.  Things got so crazy in Liverpool we had to stay in London for the boys to finish working on much for A Hard Day's Night in Abbey Road Studios.  It was so strange walking across Abbey Road with the Beatles.  Little did they know it would go down as one of the most famous photographs in our history.  

Though, in London, it just got even more wild.  The boys were astonished, dumbfounded, at the sight of the crowds and the hysteria of fans.  

But if I were to tell you about what happened later, I would need to go back a few days.  

Things got better for me.  I had stopped having nightmares and hallucinations.  My past, my old life was far behind me, and I had never felt so free.  George got more sleep, and everyone was happy.  

Paul was the only Beatle who wasn't feeling very free.  Something had happened between them, and this time it was Paul who was the angry one.  He never said a word about it to the other lads, not even George.  

What ever she had done, it was coming back to get her.  

Paul's POV

The night I spent with Eleanor when she came to the studio was wonderful, for I had missed her so much.  But during that time, my mind kept wandering to Elle.  What did they always talk about when they went into the washroom together, and why did they always smile, but look angry?  

What was Elle doing with George?

Were they just sitting around and talking?  Or was there something more...romantic going on between them?

The feeling of something more than friendly between George and Elle made me burn with jealousy.  Worse, envy.  

I scolded myself for thinking of her while with Eleanor.  She was everything I wanted, right?  It would disloyal for me to wish for anyone different.  

But then I realized that Eleanor was always disloyal.  

She hadn't called in days, and with Elle spending time with George I was lonely.  John was always getting out while he could, for the fans would crazy if they saw a Beatle walking down the street.  Ringo seemed to be out with a girl each night, or visiting George and Elle.  I could have visited them, too, but my mind was still set on my girl.  

I had bought flowers from a shop by her apartment, and hurried down the road before anyone could spot me.  Hiding the flowers behind my back, I knocked on her door and fixed my hair.  The smile on my face disappeared when a man answered the door.  

"Who are you?" He groaned, like he had just woken up.  

"Is Eleanor here?  I'm her boyfriend."

The man smirked, and Paul heard Eleanor call from somewhere inside the apartment.  "Stephan, come back here!  I miss you!"

I couldn't believe how naive I had been.  I knew there had to be something going on, but I was too stupid to see it.  Shoving the flowers at him, I snapped, "Tell her they're from Paul.  He wishes the best for both of you."

For once in my life, I wanted to be alone.  And for the first time in our relationship, Eleanor called that day.  Ten times.  I was so tempted to pick it up, so she could tell me sweet lies, but I just tried to preoccupy myself with my guitar.  And a few glasses of wine.  More than a few glasses of wine.  

After an hour or so, there was a knock on the door.  I didn't answer it, but I could hear it open.  I had forgotten to lock the door, and I jumped with fright when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  

"Shouldn't you be out with Eleanor?" Elle asked.  

Dodging the question, I said, "Shouldn't you be off with George?"  The slight bitterness in my voice was evident, but she either dismissed it or didn't notice it.  

"Well, George and Ritchie wanted to go see a show at the Club, and I felt tired so I didn't want to go.  Can I stay here tonight?" Elle asked.  She didn't even take off her coat when she came in.  It was like she didn't feel at home there anymore.  And the way she asked if she could stay, she almost sounded like she was actually saying, "Please don't make me leave.  I don't know where to go."

"Of course."

"Would she mind?"  Elle asked quietly.  

I shook my head, and with steel in my voice, I snapped, "She and I are not together anymore."

Still oblivious to my anger, she rubbed my shoulder and said, "Paul, I'm sorry.  Do you want to talk about it?"  I shook my head again.  I began to play my guitar again, and she rubbed my back for a little bit.  Though, after a moment she thought better of it and pulled away.  

"Why did you stop?" I asked.  "I liked that."

"Oh, alright, then." 

After a moment of guitar notes, Elle told me, "Paul, you've been drinking a lot, haven't you?  You stink of alcohol.  Maybe you should take a bath."

"I'm fine, Elle."

"This isn't good for you.  I'm going to draw you a bath." She got up and went to the bathroom, leaving me alone with my guitar.  After a moment, she called out to me, "Paul, come here!"

I did as I was told, trudging through the hallway like a sad little boy.  When I arrived at the bathroom, Elle tried to give me a small smile.  The poor girl was being so kind to me, even when I had snapped at her.  Eleanor wouldn't have tolerated that.  

As I stood there and looked at the water in the tub, she said, with a laugh, "Am I going to have to bathe you, too?"

Hope filled my eyes.  "Could you?"

"If you keep your pants on." She said.  

A few minutes later, I was sitting in the tub, holding my knees while she washed my hair.  I supposed this would look comical to anyone who walked in, but I couldn't find any happiness in this at all.  The only person I wanted near me was Elle, though.  And she was so close...

"Sing for me?" I asked, looking up at her.  She nodded.  

It was a song I didn't recognize, but that was nice for a change.  

You called me out and taught me tough, 

With love, with love. 

You fought my claws, my teeth, my flaws, 

With love, with love. 

Cause everytime I'm slipping away from myself,

You're the one who moves me like no one else.

After she was done washing my hair, she told me to close my eyes.  At first I thought she was going to kiss me, but then she dumped a cup of water on my head.  Shaking off my hair and getting her all wet, she laughed.  

"I wasn't going to dunk your head under the faucet." 

I splashed her with the soapy water, and she splashed me back.  When she was washing my shoulders and back, I said, "That was a pretty song.  Your voice is amazing."

"Thank you."

I could have stayed there for ages with her holding me, being gentle, but my fingers had started to prune and my soaked pants were started to chaff.  She helped me out of the tub, and wrapped a towel around my shoulders.  "Can you do this yourself?"

I nodded, feeling a ghost of a smile on my lips.  

Eleanor had been completely pushed from my mind.

Elle's POV

As I changed into my pajamas, I felt myself missing George's house.  He made it feel like it was mine also, and not that Paul didn't, but with the Eleanor scandal looming over him I knew he was preoccupied.  I just wanted to make him happy again.  

While I was brushing out my hair, Paul came into the room.  He was still in his wet slacks.  I should have left him some other clothes in the bathroom.  

Tossing him a new shirt and sweatpants, I said, "You look so uncomfortable."  It was true.  He was walking around stiff-legged, like his legs were made of lead.  

"I feel like I pissed my pants.  A lot." He said, with a hint of a smile on his lips.  I laughed, and closed my eyes so Paul could change.  After a moment,  he took my hands from my eyes and kissed my nose.  It was the first time in ages that he had kissed me, and I couldn't help if he was thinking about Eleanor as he did.  

"Paul?" I asked.  

"Yes?"

I looked up at him, and his big brown eyes were locked on mine.  "Are you here because you need someone, or are you here because you need me?"

"What?"

"Never mind.  It was a silly question." Getting up from the bed, I went into the living room to play piano.  After a few minutes, Paul came storming out from the bedroom, muttering, "Unbelievable."  

"Paul?  Where are you going?" I asked, but he ran out the door before I could grab his arm.  I hurried into the bedroom and pulled open the shades, only to see Paul and Eleanor arguing on the sidewalk outside.  And it certainly looked like he wouldn't give in anytime soon.  

Eleanor looked so flustered and I could hear her muffled shouting all the way up there.  Her face was as red as her lipstick.  After another minute of shouting, she snapped something incredibly nasty at him.  I knew she was satisfied, because the smirk on her face grew and Paul's face fell.  

Please don't cry, I begged.  Don't give in.  Don't let her hurt you again. 

After a few moments of silence, Eleanor looked up at my window.  Seeing me she shouted something rude at Paul and turned around to storm away.  He shouted something back before casting a look at the window and turning back to come inside the house.  Was he angry with me?

I met him at the front door, and he pushed past me without saying a word.  "Paul, what is it?"

"Paul, please."

Taking his arm, I forced him to look at me.  "Paul-"

Without warning, Paul took me in his arms, dipped me backwards and gave me a swooning, Hollywood-style kiss.  I was so shocked it took me a moment to realize I should kiss him back.  He ran a hand through my hair, and I held onto his shoulders, worried he would drop me.  

He let me up a moment too soon.  I touched my lips.  I couldn't remember the last time he had ever kissed me like that.  Maybe he never had.  

"You don't know how long," he breathed, running a hand through his still damp hair, "I've wanted to do that."  And without another word, he went up to his room.  

Oh, my...