April 1965

"You've just had LSD," their host for dinner said with a dry smirk, though his humour certainly wasn't reflected by John, George, Connie or Cynthia. "It was in your coffee,"

"How fucking dare you do this to us?" it was John that spoke up first, but Connie felt as if she'd said it herself, purely because she'd been on the verge of saying the exact same thing. "How fucking-"

Connie didn't let John finish, not when she saw him move towards their host. Out of habit she grabbed hold of his arm, preventing him from going any further, but both of their partners could tell by the way she was stood, the way she was holding her shoulders so tense and clenching her fist that the two Lennon's were both on a short fuse. Sometimes it was almost startling how alike John and Connie were, and in that moment where they were both so visibly fuming, holding each other back from a fight yet riling each other up at the same time, they were like two copies of the same person, and it was like stepping back in time, seeing the two angry Lennon's like they were teenagers again.

"What he said," she snarled, her instincts taking over as she formed a fist, and she had every intention to hit the man in front of her until she felt someone grab her arm, that someone being George.

George always had a good effect on Connie. He could always calm her down, stop her feeling angry, and that was exactly what the whole group of them needed at that point. The only thing that could make a situation where they'd all been drugged without their consent worse was Connie and John's temper. Connie wasn't even meant to be at dinner that night, she was meant to be at the cinema with Ruby for a work review, but after George and John had mentioned the dinner party they had been invite to she switched her plans around to go with them since she'd not spent any time with John for a while what with their work schedules being hectic. It had been a good night, and Connie hadn't regretted her decision up until the four of them got up to leave and were in the doorway when their host dropped that bombshell on them.

Connie didn't really mind drugs. She'd smoked on and off since she was fourteen, and had been drinking alcohol from around the same age. That was the culture she'd grown up with, and as times changed so did her preferences. She knew the boys all took uppers when they were on tour to keep themselves awake and motivated, but she didn't join them on that even if they did them recreationally, not really seeing the point. When they were introduced to marajuana, however, that was a different story. To her that was just like a funny cigarette, and she liked the way it made her feel relaxed, making her forget all the stresses of the day. The boys would smoke weed far more than her, and there had been many an occasion where she came home from work and George was out in the garden with his guitar and a joint, and though she joined them on their weed adventures ocassionally, she never let herself get reliant on it. Sometimes it was nice to just chill out and let it go to her head a bit, but she hated the after-effect and how she once got through half a loaf of bread's worth of cheese and pickle sandwiches to combat her seemingly never-ending hunger. She liked smoking weed, but she'd rather not just to remain in control of herself.

That night, however, there was no control. Not in the fact that she'd been drugged without choice - surely that should be illegal? There was no control as well in what drug it was. LSD, acid, a halucinogenic. She'd done thourough research on in for work, as thourough as you could get without trying it. She and Ruby had planned to write articles on the emerging drug culture to highlight what drugs were trendy and how to do them safely. They thought it'd be informative and educational, rather than making them out to be scary and sinful they'd tell the truth because people were surely going to try stuff anyway so at least they'd go into it informed. The articles had been vetoed at the last minute, Mr Hill scared that they'd give off the wrong message and put the magazine in danger, but the two of them had already done the research and even if she'd never gotten the opportunity to write about it, Connie knew plenty about acid, enough to put her off it completely.

She liked drinking and how it would make everything seem a little more exciting, bending her senses ever so slightly until its effects wore off. Everything she liked about drinking seemed to be magnetised if they were caused by acid to extreme extents, and that scared her. She hated to think that something could bend her mind to see things that weren't real, to make things that were real seem like fantasy. If there was one thing she always liked to rely on, it was her own mind, but on acid she wouldn't be able to even trust that. It'd render her without impulse control and the world wouldn't be what it was anymore. The thought of all that terrified her, but yet again instead of understading her emotions properly, her fear went straight to anger, and that was how she and John ended up in their state of fury.

"Love, come on," George tried to reason with her, seeming much calmer about the whole thing than she was.

"No, go on, Con, punch him," John riled her up, and she was so focused on the two men none of them even noticed their dinner host had abandonned them.

Had the drug kicked in already, making them all see things that weren't there? As scary as that was, the thought that she was already losing control, Connie tried to keep it together. Remembering her research, she told herself over and over again in her mind whilst it was still functional that she needed to stay calm, keep herself in a good mood so that she wouldn't have a bad trip. As if trying to force away any chance of the drug having a bad effect on her, she forced a smile onto her face and let out a short laugh, something both of the men interpreted as her already losing it.

"Fuck off looking at me like that," she muttered at John, who was watching her warily with a smirk. "Maybe we should all just go and make ourselves throw up, get it out of our systems or something, or go and find some water, or-"

"Con, love, relax, it's going to be fine," George told her, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it, making her realise she was a lot more tense than she thought. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you,"

"You let someone fucking spike my drink though, didin't you?" she snapped before she could stop herself and instantly shot George an apologetic look.

"To be fair, we were all spiked it wasn't just you," John said casually with a shrug, as if he'd just been slipped something he'd had plenty of times before, not a completely new drug.

"Let's just go home," Cynthia suggested, and Connie realised that she'd completely forgotten John's wife was still there.

She wasn't sure why she had forgotten Cynthia, and instantly felt awful. Maybe it was because she'd been so focused on the two men and wrapping her mind around the idea of staying calm, or maybe it was because the drug had already taken hold of her. As much as she hated the thought of that, it quickly melted from her brain, the only thing sticking being Cynthia's advice. She was the only one talking sense out of them all, and John and George knew that too as they both went to their partner's side, John looping his arm through Cynthia's whilst George wrapped his arm around Connie's shoulder, pulling her close. He pushed a kiss to her temple as they all headed out of the house, and Connie wondered if he was only kissing her because in a few minutes none of them would really remember who they were, or if he was just trying to reassure her about the whole situation. The former scared her a little, so she decided to focus on the latter, or at least focus on it while ever she could.

In only a matter of minutes she had started to feel the drug kicking in. Her entire body was tingling, and it felt like the world was floating around her. It was like whenever she was drunk, and she knew she was moving but she couldn't quite feel her legs walking. That was alright, she'd drank some wine at dinner, not her drink of choice but she did it just to be polite, so maybe the sensation in her body was just that. Connie tried to tell herself that, that she was just a little tipsy, until her vision started fazing out. Her first thought when she realised things had become blurry was that she needed to take off John's glasses and give them back to him, but after reaching up to take them off she realised she wasn't wearing anything. That was hard to come to terms with, especially as she felt as though she must have been wearing prescription sunglasses, the sort that had frames of bright colours, because while the world around her was blurry it was also illuminous. She couldn't remember the scenery around the house being so colourful, not as they approached where George had parked his car. She was sure they had parked on gravel, but it instead looked as though he'd parked in a sea of bluebells. The nature-lover in her wanted to hit George or call him a name for driving through the flowers, but as she looked up her gaze went to John first, her cousin giggling as he kept trying to open up the locked car door.

"Are you gonna unlock the door, Gee?" Connie asked quietly, though her voice sounded like a yell to her, but as she saw George take out the key from his jacket pocket, his hand moving so slowly and shakily, she gasped and slapped it out of his hand.

"What's up with you?" he asked, looking at her, though it seemed like his eyes wouldn't settle, roaming all over her face as his grin grew. "Wow,"

"What's up with you?" she repeated his exact words, trying to focus on her boyfriend rather than the world spinning around them, though that was easy when she realised just how handsome he actually was.

"You're so beautiful... You're like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he breathed out, staring at her, and as his hands went to wrap around her waist she felt like she was being enveloped into him, like they were one thing.

"Oi!" John called, and the two of them looked over to him. At first glance Connie thought his hair must have caught alight or something, but it was instead flaming red, even in the darkness. "Are you gonna open the car or have I got to watch you two shagging?"

"Piss off, swine," Connie muttered out of instinct, but as she looked back at George she panicked, having to look back at John just to check he was still him. "You're not actually a swine though, if you were we probably wouldn't be mates, you'd probably be in some farm or something, I dunno,"

She trailed off, looking down at the ground for where George's key went. It seemed to be nestled on the floor amongst the flowers, and as she bent down to pick it up it felt like a hundred tiny spiders had climbed up onto her fingers. It was a good job Connie liked spiders, as she laughed, quickly brushing the invisible creatures away as she handed George the key, unsure why she'd even slapped it off him in the first place. He unlocked the door, and the four of them climbed into the car, George and Connie in the front whilst John and Cynthia got in the back seats.

Connie glanced up in the mirror as she did her seatbelt to look at her cousin and his wife, and whilst John seemed rather wide-eyed, Cynthia was grimacing, staring off at something. Connie wondered just what she was seeing, but her attention didn't lie on Cynthia for long, not as George put the key into the ignition and the car roared to life. That was exactly when she remembered why she'd knocked the key away from him.

"George..." she said, but she could hardly hear herself over the blaring music that sounded oddly like the mouth organ part from Love Me Do. "George!"

"What is it?" he shouted back, and she wondered if he could hear the music too as he drove at a mad speed.

"Does the car feel hot to you?" John called, appearing between the two front car seats and as soon as she'd processed his words Connie let out a scream.

"George, the car's on fire!"

***

There were a few times Connie could remember waking up with a painful hangover, but the morning after their acid trip was a new record. As soon as she opened her eyes she felt a searing headache come on, and her entire body ached, but for once she was relieved of the hangover, even if it was uncomfortable. The hangover at least meant she could feel her body again, the drug surely worn off since she had felt numb to everything. She could at least feel her head pounding, and even though she knew it would surely make things feel worse she forced her eyes open even wider, sighing with relief when she saw the dull grey colour of their bedroom ceiling.

Things were back to normal, the LSD worn off. Being high on acid had been an experience, but it wasn't one she wanted to relive. She remembered even through the fuzziness of her mind just how bizarre the entire world had seemed. All the colours, the music, the things that weren't really there yet felt so real. Thankfully it had been a good trip, even if she could vaguely remember something about the car being on fire when in reality the car was just hot. She could remember how fun things had seemed, as if every time she looked at her companions she was seeing them for the first time. It had felt like she was on a journey of discovery, but now she'd sobered up it all felt so ridiculous.

Part of her was glad to have done it though. It was becoming trendy to do drugs recreationally, hence her and Ruby researching into them for work, but she definitely didn't understand why people would like doing that one. Connie had a good trip, and hated it, so she wasn't sure how she'd even cope with a bad trip. She was glad she'd done it just so her curiosity was settled and she knew she didn't like it. In her mind, she settled with herself that the night before was simply a one-off, and she wouldn't touch acid ever again.

Connie let out a long, tired sigh, rolling over in bed and reaching out for George only to realise she couldn't feel him in the bed. With a confused frown, she wondered where he was, only to find him as she swung her legs off the side of the bed, hearing a pained grunt as she looked over to see him laid on the floor at her side of the bed, using her dress from the night before as a pillow.

"Georgie?" she asked with a small frown, not sure why her voice sounded so rough until she realised she must have lost it the night before shouting.

"Morning," he mumbled tiredly, not even opening his eyes. "Has everything stopped spinning?"

"I think so," she nodded, slipping off the bed to lie down on the floor next to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, are you?" he asked, cracking his eyes open before grimacing.

"Yeah..." Connie reached over and gently brushed his hair out of his face, realising how much it had grown lately as she admired his features.

"That's all good then..." he said quietly, as if he was thinking. "Would you do it again?"

"Nah, probably not," she shook her head, shuddering slightly at the thought of going through it all again. "Not unless some wanker decides to spike me again. You wouldn't, would you?"

"Dunno," he shrugged tiredly, sighing as he rolled onto his back, stretching out. "Aren't you meant to be at work today?"

"Probably, I'll ring the office now and just work from home," she sighed, sitting up, deciding she couldn't face being around other people with that hangover. "Are you going into the studio today?"

"Not till later," he said before frowning. "What happened to John and Cyn last night?"

Connie shrugged, realising that she actually had no idea what had happened to the two Lennons. She remembered the car journey, but she couldn't remember getting into bed let alone where the other two members of their group had gone. She decided not to worry, and instead got up, wrapping herself up with her dressing gown before she left their bedroom, heading down the hall and into the living room where the phone was. Her plan was to call Ruby at the office first, letting her know that she wouldn't be able to make it in subtly without letting on to the misadventure of the night before, and then ring John and Cynthia's house and hope to get an answer as to what had happened to them.

It turned out that she didn't need to ring their house though, not as she came into the living room to see both of them passed out on the floor. She decided not to wake either of them, and instead went into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. One of the things she'd learnt in research was how dehydrating LSD could be, and that was definitely true as her mouth felt like sand paper. She stood by the sink, leaning on the kitchen counter as she looked out of the window at the garden, taking small sips of her drink as she thought about work and how she wished she'd prioritised work the night before and not gone to that dinner party. She had articles to finish for the next day, but in her current state she would much rather curl up in a dark room than go into the office.

"Alright?" John's voice called from the kitchen doorway. Connie would've usually spun round to face him, but she stayed where she was, not able to face such sharp movement. "Well you seem cheery,"

"Not to be dramatic but I feel like death, Johnny," she groaned, making him laugh as he came over to stand with her, and as soon as he got close enough she saw he looked just as rough as she did. "Though you look no better,"

"I'd say we can't be that bad, Cyn's still passed out and George is no where to be seen," John shrugged.

"George is well rough," Connie said with a small laugh, her and John exchanging a smirk over their lightweight partners. "Not gonna lie though, I'm never touching that shit again, and if anyone ever spikes me again..."

"You'll show 'em the best punch from our side of the Mersey?" he joked, though he seemed a little disappointed about what she'd said before. "Would you really never do it again, acid I mean? Apart from the whole spiked thing, I didn't think I was that bad,"

"Nope," she grimaced, going to take another sip of her water until John took the glass from her hand taking a swig out of it himself, much to her frustration. "Swine. But nah, I'll stick to alcohol, reefer can be bad enough for me most of the time, and I'm definitely not up for taking something that'll make me think a car's on fire just cause it's a bit hot,"

"Suit yourself," John shrugged almost carelessly, as if he had listened to her opinion but couldn't be bothered to give her his own, knowing they were both too different. "What you doing today then?"

"Working from home, helping you lot nurse your hangovers," Connie told him simply with a small sigh. "Though, to be honest, I can't be arsed with any articles today. I know I'll need to do them, but, I dunno, if there's one thing I learnt from last night its that-"

"That you always need to check who's making your drinks and what they're putting in it?" he joked, flashing her a stupid grin. "Not to be rude, Con but yore not a journalist at heart. You hate the press, you hate any reporter that doesn't come from your magazine. Why don't you just throw the towel in and write something you actually care about?"

John probably had a point. Connie had never really dreamed of being a reporter, she thought the New Times would just be a stepping stone and then she could go on to write fiction stuff like she had dreamed of as a kid. She liked writing reviews on plays, films and albums, she liked the community feel she felt in the office now Henry had gone, and she loved the adulation she felt whenever she got her work published, but it wasn't what she had always wanted, and John knew that. It irritated her that he knew her so well and knew her sometimes better than she knew herself, because up until he'd said that she actually thought she was perfectly happy in her job.

Any consideration about her place at the New Times wasn't on the cards at that point though, not as she felt her head pound and her stomach rumble, and Connie realised the side effect she felt from joints was surely going to be far worse on this come down.

***
Word count: 3752

***

Author's note:
Don't do drugs, kids.