NOTE: I literally just finished this and didn't even bother to proofread it. This is my very first attempt at a Beatles/Paul McCartney fic. I sincerely hope you guys enjoy! =^_^=

            Clara stood shyly, observing her idol, through the small crack of the door. She had managed to stand there in silence for a full 15 minutes, priding herself as she watched him fiddle around with his piano, when all of a sudden he looked up. As his eyes met hers, a kind smile overcame his features.

"Go on, come on in, then!" he said with a smirk.

Now the panic began to set in: she had been caught. He was inviting her in. Was this really happening? She had envisioned it so many times in her mind but she never dreamed it would come to fruition. Anxiously, she tip-toed inside. Paul beamed in amusement at her careful movements and beet-red complexion.

"Were you spying on me?" he inquired playfully.

Clara was at a loss for words. "...I – I admire your work," she said simply.

Paul's grin deepened, "Well, then take a seat!"

First he invited her in, now he was offering her a seat? Clara was absolutely flabbergasted at her luck. Her eyes, wide and awestruck, never left his direction as she sat next to him at the piano.

"So tell me," Paul initiated. "What's your favorite song?"

"By you?" Clara asked with a chuckle.

Paul's eyes glanced coyly upward, "By anybody."

Clara smiled as she began to get more comfortable, "I really like How Kind Of You and The Lovers That Never Were. Oh, and I especially love Distractions!"

Paul nodded, as if impressed that she had mentioned those particular songs over the many less obscure ones in his catalogue.

"Well, it's been a while since I've played that one, so forgive me if I'm a bit rusty..."

Before Clara could fully process it, Paul had started playing Distractions on the piano. This personalized rendition was beautiful and had an added touch of melancholy that was more evident in Paul's later works.

When he got to the chorus, Paul softly cooed out the lyrics: Distractions, like butterflies, are buzzing 'round my head. When I'm alone, I think of you, and the life we'd lead if we could only be through with these distractions..."

Clara held her breath, appreciating and anticipating every note he played. She was struck by just how intensely Paul got into it, his eyes shut and dripping with passion. She could still hardly believe she was sitting here, next to Paul McCartney, listening to a private concert.

When he finished, he looked up at Clara with a very slight look of uncertainty. Had he played the song to her liking? Did he live up to this young woman's approbation?

Surprisingly, Clara was maintaining her composure. She clapped slowly as she held back tears. Chuffed, Paul puffed out his chest.

"That song really speaks to me. Well, all your songs do, but especially that one." Clara explained.

Paul nodded intently, "What precisely of it speaks to you?"

"Well..." Clara placed her thumb and forefinger on her chin, unsure of how to answer. "I guess I can relate to being distracted. I think of myself as a rather bright, clever girl, but you would never be able to tell from my grades. As far back as I can remember, my thoughts have traveled to faraway places. I can transport myself to completely different worlds and stay in them for hours."

Once again impressed, Paul's eyes widened. Most of the women who dropped by his hidden studio were either around his age or giddy schoolgirls who knew a couple of Beatles hits. Never in his long life had he encountered a woman quite like her who could articulate her innermost feelings so poignantly.

"I'm the same way, darling, it's as if we're both from a different time!" Paul stated with an excitement that seemed peculiarly repressed.

Clara's eyes sparkled at his words, feeling the heat in her cheeks rise ever so slightly at the fact that he had just called her darling.

Abruptly, Paul snapped out of his excited daze, "Forgive me, I never asked your name..."

"Clara," Clara said.

"Well, Clara, it was very nice to meet you. To think, in another life, we may have been soulmates!"

Clara laughed at the thought, "Maybe! I always did feel a strong, overwhelming connection to your music. It has helped me out of some really dark times..."

"Wow, I'm so honored to hear that! When I'm going through times of hardship, I write to help get me through it as well..."

"You mean when you find yourself in times of trouble?" Clara asked with a knowing smile.

Paul chortled, "Exactly!"

They sat in contented silence for a moment when Clara suddenly perked up.

"Oh! I never told you what my favorite song is!"

"You mean it's not one of mine?" Paul exaggerated a shocked, hurt expression.

Clara chuckled, "No, but it may as well have been. I have a feeling he partially wrote it with you in mind..."

All of a sudden, Clara started playing the piano. Paul was all the more surprised when he recognized the tune.

"All my little plans and schemes, lost like some forgotten dreams. Seems like all I really was doing, was waiting for you..." Clara sang with crystal clear pipes.

Now it was time for Paul to tear up. When it got to the chorus, he couldn't stop himself from harmonizing with her. Singing with Paul was a cathartic experience for Clara, and soon she felt the tears streaming down her face. She had made it. She was in his studio playing for Paul. How much more surreal could this get?

Once Clara finished out the song on a literal high note, her life had never felt more complete. Although she was only in her mid-twenties, she had certainly experienced enough to last a lifetime. Paul was the only one there through his music keeping her sane, giving her a reason to stay upbeat. To now be sitting next to her idol and actually hitting it off meant the world to her.

After a few moments taking it all in, Paul beamed with gratification, "You're really something, Clara..."

Clara smiled brightly in response, "Why, thank you, Sir Paul!"

Paul smirked and shook his head, "It really was nice meeting you." he repeated.

"Nice meeting you too..." Clara said softly with a hint of the shyness she had started out with.

"Hopefully I'll see you again one day..?" Paul remarked with a slight hesitance.

"Hopefully," Clara nodded.

And with that, Clara decided it was time to show herself out. For a brief moment, she debated saying something more but decided against it.

"Bye Paul," Clara dejectedly bid her idol farewell.

"Bye Clara," he replied back with similar sadness.

As he watched her walk out, Paul couldn't help but wonder what might have been. If they had met in Liverpool, or even America, all those years ago. Surely, they would've gotten on, perhaps been something more.

With a sigh, he pushed the thought aside and began to do the usual thing he did when he was distracted: he played.