For once George felt satisfied after a show. Music brought him such joy, and this show was better than most. He was sharing his room with Ringo, who held a rather long conversation with his girlfriend before hanging up and falling asleep almost immediately. In fact, he was asleep so suddenly that George had to snuff out his lit cigarette. He was just getting ready to go to bed when Brian opened the door to his room and said he had a phone call in the manager's room.

"This is George Harrison."

"George...I-I was worried...how the show went."

He leaned against the wall as he spoke quietly. "It was fine. Is everything alright, love? You seem a bit tense."

She sounded worse than tense; it was like she was whimpering in pain. "I'm fine..."

"Layla, are you crying? Don't lie to me." Brian looked up at him, wondering what was happening. He mouthed to him, Should I get you a car? George held up a finger. They would be going home after the next show, so if he needed to drive to Layla that night he would. "Are you safe?"

He could distinctly hear her breathing hard. "I'm alright. I swear. I just wanted to hear you, and know that you were alright."

"Yes, I'm alright. Love, please, tell me if something is wrong."

She said something he didn't understand.

Worried that danger was in earshot, he said quietly, "Layla, say 'no' if you are hurt or if you think you will be hurt."

Silence.

And then:

"I love you, George."

Click.

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"Hi, Lucy...Yes, I'm fine...Paul's doing well...Can you call Layla for me?"

There was a bit of shuffling in the background. "Is everything alright with her?"

"I don't know. She was talking to me as if she wanted to tell me something important, but was afraid to say it. I'm afraid Eric has done something. Will you call her? Perhaps she will tell you." Lucy said that she would and get back to him.

It was quite a long time before Lucy got back to him. He regretted asking her because he was afraid she had started making conversation, though Lucy dreaded phone calls. When the phone rang, he immediately grabbed it. Luckily Ringo was a heavy sleeper. "Hello?"

"She says she's scared but she will not tell me why. I don't know what to do. If I called the police, I'm afraid she would get mad at me."

"Call them. I'm going to be leaving tonight for home to see her. If she gets angry, I'll say it was my idea."

"Hurry, George."

It was a long, quiet drive to Liverpool, and his thoughts were nagging him the entire way. What if she was already hurt and the police couldn't stop Eric? What if something happened to the baby? George almost lost it in the car thinking about losing another baby. He was the child's father. He had to be there to protect it, even if it hadn't been born.

Nearly four hours later, he arrived at Eric's apartment. A police car was there, and the officer was there when he rang the doorbell. "Layla called me earlier. Is she alright?"

Eric arrived at the door. "She's not here. I was hoping you knew where she went."

They went to his house and hurried inside. She was sitting on his couch, clutching her stomach. George took her hands. "Are you alright? Are you in pain?" She shook her head. In a quiet tone she said, "I didn't think you would come. I'm afraid...one night I thought it was you kissing me and holding me and I said, 'Goodnight, George'. He heard me, and...I think he's angry. I don't feel right there anymore."

The police officer asked little questions before letting Eric take Layla back to his house. But before he could leave with her, George said, "Is she safe there?"

"Of course." Layla was in the car. Eric was standing in front of the passanger window so she couldn't see him. "I assure you that she's safe. I don't forbid her from seeing you. Hopefully I'll see you soon. Have a good night."

"Same to you."

I'm in love with the girl you live with...and she told me that she loved me too.

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They all went to a party, the four of them. Ringo was busy, and John was spending time with Cynthia. They were still just teenagers.

All of them were exchanging funny stories when Layla said loudly, "George and I were walking home from a film about a month ago...and we were both very quiet and contemplative, which is a bit unusual for me, obviously. But there was this man, who completely broke the silence of the street by shouting, 'Does anyone have any pot?'"

It was the time of the night where everyone laughed at everything, so this was incredibly hilarious. "George, do you remember that?" She leaned on him. He nodded.

Then Lucy asked, "What's pot?"

"Are you joking?" Layla asked. "Perhaps you've used it so many times you can't remember."

She shook her head. "What is it, Paul?"

He laughed nervously, and covered her ears like she was a child. "Oh...maybe we should change the conversation." Lucy pushed his hands away. As he quietly explained to her what it was, George led Layla away from the crowd, much to her protest. "George, I was having fun."

"You're a bit tipsy, love. Perhaps I should take you back to your house."

She bumped into him as he offered her the coat she brought. "Georgie, please...do I have to go home? Anna probably locked me out."

He kissed her nose. "I know what you're doing; it's not going to work." They walked outside to his car. The cold air made her shiver, nearly sobering her. He opened the door to his car for her, but she didn't sit down. "What is it?"

Layla pouted. "It's my birthday, George. And you're making me go home by myself."

They stared at each other for several moments before he sighed and said, "Let's go. Back to my flat."

"I love you, George."

"I know."