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Chapter Fourteen: Work it Out

Connie had forgotten how much she loved waking up in George's arms, but that morning as the sunlight started streaming through their curtains and her eyelids flickered open she realised her head was resting on his chest, his arms wrapping around her tightly as if he didn't want to let go. Careful not to disturb him in case he was still asleep, she glanced up to see George was still soundly asleep, and she couldn't help but think how peaceful he looked as well as the content look on his face, as if he didn't have a trouble in the world.

The memories of the night before flooded back, and Connie remembered what they'd talked about and how, when she told him she was ready to be with him again he'd been so gentle as they made love. She remembered how he held her as if she was so precious and how he told her repeatedly how much he loved her, and she couldn't help but smile, knowing that she felt happier than she had done in weeks, months even. It felt a little strange after so long, feeling like something was missing when she realised what had been troubling her for months was gone, and though the thoughts were still in her head, they weren't nearly as painful or bothersome as they had been. She wondered if it was because she'd finally put them behind her or if it was because of how she was in that moment cuddled up with George. Either way, she was more than happy to just lie there with him, nuzzling her head into his chest further so she could feel his heartbeat, listening to his soft snores, enjoying the peace.

She didn't know how long the two of them were laid there for, but after a while she felt George shift underneath her, stretching, and she felt his hand that had previously been holding the small of her back move up so his fingers were weaving gently into her hair. She pulled away so she could look at him properly, and though his eyes were still closed, there was a small, content smirk playing across George's tired face. Sitting up a little more, she lent over to brush the hair out of his face, thinking about how much she liked his hair when it was long and shaggy. He was just beautiful, and Connie couldn't help but feel glad that they'd put everything behind them so she could appreciate his beauty properly.

"Good morning," he whispered sleepily to her, lifting one of his hands to take hold of hers as she stroked his hair, stroking his thumb across her knuckles.

"Morning," she smiled at him before she laid back down, leaning over and pushing a kiss to his cheek. "How you feeling?"

"Better than ever," he said with a grin, opening his eyes before he looked at her seriously. "How about you, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, great actually," she told him, running her fingers through his hair again. "Better than I have been for ages, to be honest,"

"Good," he sighed with a smile, seeming much more awake as he pulled away from her, rolling onto his side, though he quickly placed his hand on her hip, drawing her closer. "It'd been a while, I didn't wanna think, y'know, I hurt you or something,"

"Nah, not at all," she couldn't help but laugh, thinking it was rather sweet how he was acting. "I'd missed you, you were great,"

"Good to know," he let out a small laugh, stroking his hand against her waist, savouring being so close to her after what had felt like forever.

With that, she moved her face closer to his, so close her forehead was resting against his, and soon their lips joined together in a loving kiss. There wasn't nearly as much passion as there had been the night before between them, but the night before had been more like catching up on all that they had missed out on, whereas this kiss seemed to just be the two of them expressing how much they loved each other. The night before they had reacquainted themselves with all of their desires they'd tried to push down, but that kiss was something special, something that seemed to signal how, after everything, they still adored and needed each other.

George's hands on her waist, he pulled her up on top of him and she moved to sit on his hips, her hands holding his face gently, their lips still working in unison. His thumbs stroked over the bare skin of her stomach, leaving goose bumps as his touch made her shiver ever so slightly, and though neither of them were going to say it, kissing and holding each other like that felt like old times. Not old times like a few months before, but how things were before they properly got together, when they were still practically just kids, neither of them brave enough to admit to their feelings despite the other one being the thing that they loved most in the world. Connie usually didn't like dwelling on the time before they started courting, the disagreements they'd stumbled upon when she hadn't been able to tell him how she felt, but she'd forgotten how exciting and special that time was in hindsight. They had both been two daft kids who liked each other more than they'd let each other know, and had done for a long time, and as they kissed in that moment, Connie couldn't help but feel like that girl again, like she was getting to know George all over again like she had done the night they reunited after so long.

She'd not felt so complete for such a long time, feeling as if things were right and exciting again. Deep inside her she felt the butterflies of affection she'd once been so used to because they were a symptom of being madly in love with George, and just as she found herself wondering if he felt similarly, she realised he must do because of how his hands drifted up from her waist to stroke her cheek. It was soft and gentle, and it meant more to her than anything he'd done the night before, because it seemed to signal to her that he hadn't been caught up in the moment the night before and he did really still love her.

It was then that she realised that it wasn't just butterflies she felt in her stomach, suddenly feeling her insides cramp up. George seemed to realise something was wrong as she pulled away from him quickly, and he moved his hands away from her as he frowned in worry and confusion, though he didn't get the chance to ask her what was wrong as she jumped off him, stumbling off their bed and out of the bedroom into the bathroom. As he heard the bathroom door slam shut, George laid in bed stunned as to what had just happened, his eyebrows creased together as he tried to snap out of the daze of their kiss and come back to reality. He pushed off what remained of the bedsheets and got out of bed before he quickly pulled his clothes on, leaving the room behind to go and stand outside the bathroom, though it didn't take him long before he heard the sound of Connie retching.

"Con? Connie?" George called, knocking on the bathroom door with an expression of worry. "Are you okay? Can I come in?"

"No, no, I'm alright," she called back, though he knew it wasn't the case as he heard her throw up again.

With a sigh, George knew that she probably didn't want him to burst in there. She was normally far too proud to let him see her sick or weak, even if they'd been married for two years and best friends for well over ten years. Connie hated anyone to think she wasn't well or as strong as she usually was, but she was also rarely ill to the point George couldn't help but be concerned. Other than seasonal colds she was usually perfectly healthy, and he couldn't remember her ever actually being sick in the four years of them living together, except for occasions where she drank too much. It was completely out of character so George couldn't help but go against what he knew Connie would want, his fear for her overtaking.

He opened the bathroom door quietly, seeing Connie lent over the toilet. She'd not noticed him yet, but she soon did as he made his way over to her, kneeling next to her and scooping her hair away from her face. George didn't know what to say, so instead he held her hair back with one hand and used the other to rub her back gently in reassurance. Though she didn't acknowledge him, she was glad he was there, even if she felt embarrassed that he was having to see her like that. When she was done, she let out a small groan, leaning back against George as she shut her eyes, feeling almost dizzy. George held her close, kissing the top of her head to try and stop himself from worrying, though that was impossible.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled after a moment. "Could you get me some water?"

"Of course," he nodded.

He got up, gently leaning her against the bathroom wall as he went back into their bedroom where he knew she kept a bottle of water at her bedside. As soon as he had it he practically ran back to the bathroom, handing it to her. She offered him a weak smile in place of a thank you, and he watched as she rinsed her mouth out, spitting the water back out into the toilet. Noticing the cautious look on his face, Connie couldn't help but roll her eyes, running her hand through her hair as she tucked the strays behind her ears.

"You don't have to look at me like that, y'know," she told him, though her voice sounded tired and weak. "I've got a sickness bug or food poisoning or whatever,"

"What d'you mean food poisoning or a bug? Are you alright?" George asked, his eyes narrowing, and Connie let out a small laugh, finding it amusing how much he clearly cared.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I was sick yesterday morning as well but was alright after," she shrugged. "I'm sure it'll go off in a couple of days, I'll just take it easy and be careful of what I eat, I'll be reyt,"

"You sound like you're dad," George muttered, rolling his eyes.

"He's a wise man," Connie shrugged again with a small laugh, taking another swig of water before she leant over and took hold of George's hand. "So are you, you're a good guy, George, but you really don't need to worry over me,"

***

After freshening up and changing into a clean shirt and pair of trousers, Connie pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head, and decided to head out of the bungalow. George had gone out a bit before her, and though she assumed it was to meditate she realised differently as she headed down their patio and saw him sat in the same spot she had been yesterday with his guitar. He was playing a tune she hadn't heard before, and that peaked her curiosity.

She loved it when George wrote songs. They were always so brilliant, in her opinion at least since most of them never made it to albums. The lack of attention the other Beatles paid towards his songs was a source of annoyance for George, and though Connie agreed, she couldn't help but like the bias a little. Any song of John or Paul's was prioritised, and though they were great some of George's were far better, and though Connie wished her husband got a fair share of that attention, she enjoyed the fact that the songs George wrote that didn't make the album became something for just the two of them. He always played whatever he wrote for her, and though his ego would suffer if a song had been rejected by the band she tried to make sure he realised how great it was. So loved when he'd play his songs for her, and though she knew they were songs that deserved to be heard by everyone, she loved that their initial audience was just her.

Just as George stopped playing, fiddling around with the chords as if he was trying to find the perfect sound, Connie sat down next to him. He didn't set the guitar aside, but he looked up to her with a smile. Even with a smile though she could see he was still trying to hide the concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine, George, you don't need to be worrying about me," she told him firmly, rolling her eyes before she gestured to his instrument. "That one sounded pretty, have you got any words yet?"

"No, not yet," he said as if it was some sort of confession. "I was just thinking about everything here, y'know, meditation, spiritualism, thought it'd make a good song,"

"Yeah," she agreed with a nod. "How are you feeling about it all, the meditation and stuff?"

"Good, really good," he nodded enthusiastically, and Connie was glad to see his eyes light up slightly, as if he really was as happy with it all as he was saying. "I feel like everything's a bit clearer, if that makes sense. I feel enlightened, like the weight of all the stuff back home with Beatlemania is gone or its irrelevant, I don't really know, it just feel like I've learnt something here about myself and the world,"

George's enthusiam for the course made Connie feel a little ashamed of herself for not being able to invest herself into it. She was glad for him to have found something that made him feel so at peace with himself and the madness in his life, but she worried her lack of commitment to meditation so far would irritate him. She already knew the other Beatles weren't nearly as interested in it all as he was, and though it didn't annoy George she knew it divided them ever so slightly. After only just reconnecting, Connie found herself worrying that meditation would divide them too.

"I've been struggling," she confessed, looking at the grass. "Don't get me wrong, I like all this spiritual stuff, and I'm really glad it makes you feel so peaceful. I like the concept of meditation, but I can't clear my mind. I'm doing everything I should be but I dunno, I think my mind feels most at peace when I'm doing something... Sorry,"

"Why're you sorry?" he frowned, putting his guitar aside as he took hold of her hands. "Con, it's your journey, you go at your own pace. I'm proud of you for trying. We're here for another month at least, there's still time, and I can help you,"

Connie felt relieved as she sighed, and as he began to talk her through how to properly meditate, what mantras brought him peace and how to properly engage with it all, she laid back on the grass. It felt nice, him talking to her about it all like they were back home, back when he first discovered transcendental meditation. He'd been so enthusiastic about it all, and if there was one thing Connie loved, it was George talking about his passions with her. It used to be rock and roll stars, the two of them talking for hours as teenagers about musicians they loved, and it amused her how much they'd grown up, going from discussing their idols to spirituality. Listening to him talk about it all made her feel like she understood it a bit more, and she wondered if her struggles with meditation had been because she'd not been at peace with him. Maybe their relationship trouble had stopped her fully engaging with it all?

George must have realised the same thing as his voice trailed off, and she found his gaze resting on her, another worried frown appearing on his face. She sat up, facing him properly and leant over to nudge his arm, as if encouraging him to tell her what he was thinking.

"We're all alright now, aren't we?" he said after a moment, and though he was trying to hide it she could tell he was clearly concerned.

"What do you mean?" she asked, wanting for him to tell her exactly how he was feeling and where his mind was at.

"Well, I dunno, these last few months have been awful, we've never been like that before, not talking or anything, but last night was like things were back to normal," he explained. "But I don't wanna act like everything's okay if you still feel like things aren't,"

"I think our problem is that we're really bad at talking to each other," she admitted. "I think if we told each other exactly how we feel about anything we might solve that, because honestly these last few months I didn't want to tell you how I felt in case I hurt you or made things worse, but not talking was like letting the wound fester, y'know? Maybe if we'd just been honest from the start we'd've saved ourselves from all of this,"

"Yeah, we're shit at talking," he nodded in agreement, his choice of words making her laugh slightly. "I was the same though, Con. I knew you were upset so I didn't want to talk to you about me being upset as well. I was though, I don't want you to think I was okay with anything that happened, I was just trying to put on a brave face,"

"I know, I know that now, I just overreacted in the heat of the moment," she sighed. "I was too caught up in it all, and I shouldn't have acted like I did the last time we went to the doctors. I'm sorry,"

"You don't need to apologise, but I'm sorry too," he spoke, offering her a sad smile. "I don't want to go back to how things have been,"

"Me neither," she shook her head, leaning over and taking hold of his hands, running her thumb over his knuckles. "Promise we'll tell each other everything now? Every feeling, every time we're upset, all that stuff. I don't want to feel like we're holding anything back from each other,"

"Promise," he said, and as if to seal the deal, he lent over and kissed her lips. It was only a short kiss, though as his forehead rested against hers, he added, "I really love you,"

Connie was about to tell him the exact same, but that was when their peace was disturbed by approaching footsteps. Though she was reluctant to look away from her husband, she turned around, only for her gaze to fall on Paul, standing hesitantly behind them both, except as soon as Connie looked to him he seemed like his usual confident self again as he offered the two of them a wave and a grin.

"Not interrupting anything am I?" Paul asked, though he had a small smile on his face that told Connie he didn't really care even if he did. Not waiting for an answer, he held something up, and Connie recognised it as her notebook from the night before. "You left this last night, you seemed a bit... preoccupied,"

"Yeah, alright," she muttered, not enjoying his reference to her newly resurrected sex life, getting up from the grass and crossing over towards him. He tossed her the book and she caught it, flashing him a smile of thanks. "Cheers,"

Now she was up close to Paul, he didn't seem as sure of himself. He kept flicking his gaze from her to the floor, and she wasn't used to the uncomfortable vibe that grew between them. Her relationship with Paul was completely different to how she was with George, with nothing left unsaid, the two of them as close as siblings, and secrets didn't usually exist between them. Things were never awkward between herself and Paul, he never allowed it, not from the moment his family moved next door and he immediately invited himself round to her garden as she was out having a smoke. From that moment, she'd never been able to shake him, always waiting for her on the bus, sitting in her garden wanting to hang out, or even knocking on her back door asking to borrow the Lennon-Jones' piano before his family got their own. He was always there, with an excitable look and a friendly smile, and Connie felt like her outburst the other night had ruined it all, all those years of unwavering friendship.

"I'm gonna go and meditate," George called to Connie, interrupting the silence as he knew both she and Paul needed time to talk. He got up, heading towards her and after he kissed her cheek, he added, "I'll see you later, love,"

With that he was gone, heading off towards the other side of the ashram past the bungalows. Both of them watched him leave, as if they needed him to stop the awkwardness, but Connie let out a sigh, reaching out and hitting Paul's arm. He looked at her, almost surprised to see her giving him a small smile.

"D'you wanna go for a walk?" she suggested, gesturing down the grassy hill where there was a line of trees. "Go down towards the river for a bit?"

"Sure," Paul said with a shrug.

The two of them set off, Connie leading the way with her notebook tucked under her arm whilst Paul was a few steps behind. He was oddly quiet, and she had to fight the overwhelming urge to break the silence with a bad joke. It was normally him who'd be desperately trying to initiate a conversation, and she remembered all the times they'd be walking home from school together, all the afternoon's she'd be in a bad mood from getting caned for no good reason and all Paul would do was try to cheer her up or talk non-stop about hs day in an attempt to break the ice or make her feel better. Connie wasn't used to the roles being reversed.

The scenery surrounding them was genuinely beautiful, so Connie distrated herself by admiring how the faint rays of sunlight came through the trees above them, and how they could hear the river flowing just behind the tree line. It was so peaceful that she almost felt guilty as she elbowed Paul in the side.

"What's occuring, Paul?" she asked bluntly after a moment, and let out a snort of a laugh when she saw he looked almost alarmed. "Is this because of what I said the other night?"

"No," he replied bluntly, before sighing. "Yeah. I feel bad,"

"That wasn't my intention so I'm sorry, but I couldn't keep in how I felt anymore," Connie told him, sitting down on the grass, gesturing for him to sit down next to her, and when he did she elbowed him again. "I'm not just George's wife, and if I want to hang out with you lads I don't need his permission. I'm your mate,"

"I know, I'm sorry," he nodded. "It's just... There's so much going on with the band, Lennie, and I'm just worried. It's not like how it used to be, and I'm worried everything's starting to go a bit wrong, and thinking that you're angry at us all doesn't make it any better,"

"What d'you mean, it's not like how it used to be?" she frowned, wondering if there was more going on with the band than George had told her. "I mean, I know that you're all arguing a bit more but..."

"Well, yeah, it's just that for the longest time it was our band, but John was aways the leader, y'know?" he said, looking at Connie seriously, his words bringing up a lifetime of memories for both of them. "Now it feels like no one cares as much, especially John. I'm having to hold the whole group together, and... Has he told you about that woman?"

"What woman?" Connie exclaimed in shock.

"Some artist woman, she's been pestering him for ages and I think she's made him lose focus with the band," Paul explained, realising he might have touched a nerve with her. "I thought he'd have told you. He tells you everything,"

"Clearly not," she huffed, clenching her fists nervously, trying not to feel too betrayed by the fact that her cousin clearly didn't trust her as much as she trusted him.

Up until recently, Connie told John everything. He was the first person she told when she and George got engaged. He'd been there at every twist and turn throughout her life and she trusted him with her whole heart. He was her family, and she didn't have a very big family so he was everything, and for a while she thought he felt similarly about her. There'd been times when he'd slipped up and referred to her as his sister rather than his cousin, and he always told her how he was feeling, often describing to her how difficult he found his stardom and all the struggles of being a Beatle.

Up until the last few months, they'd been inseparable, and Connie knew she was partly to blame for not talking to him about her struggles, but now there was a new woman? Firstly she felt jealous, like she used to as a teenager whenever he got a new girlfriend or ditched her to hang out with someone else. Then, she realised that was selfish as she realised John was married, so he wasn't doing any wrong to her, more to his unknowing wife. If John had been getting close to a new woman of course he wasn't going to tell Connie, who was close to Cynthia. If John had started thinking of her as a Beatles' girl rather than his cousinly confidante, of course he would keep her in the dark about what he was going through.

Still though, it didn't stop it stinging that he didn't trust her, and Connie felt overwhelmingly sad about the whole thing, like she was going to cry. Not only was John keeping secrets from her and getting involved with a new woman, but Paul thought the band was drifting. No amount of happiness she felt at reclaiming her relationship with George could save her, and so she had to fight against tears, fiddling with the locket around her neck to distract herself, trying to ignore how much their lives were all changing.

"Well, don't mention it to anyone," Paul said firmly, trying to ignore the fact he'd obviously touched a nerve by changing the subject. "It's probably nothing, all of this. I'm probably overthinking things,"

"Paul, you're not overthinking things, your emotions are your emotions," Connie tried to reassure him, realising that was exactly how she'd been feeling. "You can't just pretend that how you feel is nothing, because it's clearly something to you, otherwise you wouldn't think it,"

"Wise words," he said, cracking a smile that made Connie roll her eyes. "Is that seriously how you've been feeling? That you've been overthinking everything?"

"God yeah!" she exclaimed in agreement, nodding with a small laugh. "I feel better now I've actually got my feelings out in the open and now I'm actively doing something about making myself feel better. I'm pretty sure a very wise band once sang that life is very short, and there's no time for fussing or fighting, so you just gotta work things out,"

"I wonder what life'd be if we took our own advice," Paul laughed, looking out at the trees for a moment before he looked back to Connie. "I've missed you, Lennie,"

"Missed you too, Macca, you soppy bint," she smiled, hitting his arm gently. "You know you can talk to me at any time about anything, and it won't be like talking to George's wife or one of the Beatles' girls,"

"I know, it'll be like talking to Connie fucking Lennon, best punch on our side of the Mersey," Paul grinned at her teasingly, and Connie snorted out a laugh, not expecting her old reputation to make an appearance.

"Exactly," she said firmly, a grin still across her face. "Everything'll work out,"

***
Word count: 4775

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