September 1967

It was business as usual at the New Times office. The radio was playing some news piece no one was listening to, and Connie and Ruby were sat at their desks, both of them writing new articles for the magazine even though they were also deep in discussion about something that was of the upmost importance to both of them.

"I'm just saying, From Russia with Love was alright, but You Only Live Twice is the better Bond film," Connie said, pointing out what was to her the obvious.

"Well, excuse you for forgetting about Goldfinger," Ruby rolled her eyes. "I'm honestly surprised that it's not your favourite, given that Pussy Galore is an empowered blonde who also happens to be very good looking and without her all important characters would've died, therefore making her the most important character of them all,"

"Yeah, fair enough," Connie nodded in agreement. "Plus the theme song is great, though I love all the music of Bond films,"

"There's the next article for us both, you write about best Bond themes, I'll write about best Bond girls," Ruby said, excitement sparkling in her eyes as it always did whenever she came up with good ideas for content.

They continued their James Bond debated before settling back down to write, though Connie's mind was still far from the topic of her article. She loved writing, but she was struggling to focus lately, though that was no surprise given everything that was going on in her personal life. The recent death of Brian Epstein was still very difficult for her, as it was for the lads, and she often found herself struggling to come to terms with it all, because without him the Beatles would still be playing in the Cavern and doing sets in Hamburg, and without him she would have never been reunited with the band, something that led to her relationship with George. It was hard to think that someone who they all owed so much to was now no longer there when he had been for so long. The band were lost, though they wouldn't admit it. Without the guidance of Brian, Connie couldn't quite imagine what would happen to them all.

That was of course on top of everything else. Only the day before she'd gotten another negative pregnancy test result back from the doctors, and the result was stuck in her mind. She'd not even told George she'd gone for another test, not wanting to unnecessarily get his hopes up again as she had done seven times before. He had enough to worry about with the band, she didn't want to remind him of how long they had been trying for a child. The whole process had exhausted them both, physically and mentally, and though the only break they seemed to get from all the trying was work, Connie was so tired she could barely think about anything else.

Part of her wanted to just call it a day, say she was sick and head home. She could go in extra early the next day to finish her work and spend the rest of that afternoon in bed hiding from the world. That part of her nearly won, until she came to her senses, feeling pathetic for even considering hiding as an option. She needed to snap out of it. Work had always been such a high priority to her, and her article was due by the end of the day. She refused to be consumed by everything going on in her mind. Grief and pregnancy struggles could wait, she needed to focus.

Except just as she settled into her work, another distraction came.

"Connie! There's a visitor for you!" Ross called from across the office, and when Connie looked up and saw the stunned and alarmed look on his face she rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who it would be.

That was why she wasn't surprised when she saw Paul waving at her from across the office. She sighed, knowing she was far too busy to stop and talk to him, though that didn't seem to stop him as he practically ran across the office over to her desk. While Connie remained staring at her typewriter, Ruby noticed him approaching and flashed him a grin.

"Hi, Paul!" she greeted him enthusiastically, because even though she'd spent plenty of time with each of the Beatles thanks to Connie, the thrill of seeing them randomly never seemed to fade.

"Hello, Ruby, love!" he grinned back at her, but his attention stayed on his old neighbour as he moved to sit on her desk, pushing her typewriter out of the way much to her annoyance. "Alright, Lennie?"

"I was, what do you want, Macca?" She spoke, gesturing at the many sheets of article plans littering her desk, most of which he had sat on. "I'm busy, y'know, working a real job,"

"Nothing real about being a journalist, love," Paul teased, making her shoot a glare at him, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned at her excitedly. "I've had the best idea though! Come round to mine once you've finished work and I'll tell you all about it!"

Connie looked at him deadpan until she creased her eyebrows together curiously, trying to figure out what this 'great idea' could be. In her mind, she knew she already had plans for that night. She had work to take home with her, articles to plan and ideas to come up with for round table meetings, but she also had plans with George, though the thought of that made her want to shudder from exhaustion. Paul and the other lads didn't know about the Harrison's desperate tries for a baby though, so Connie couldn't really use that as an excuse to get out of whatever he wanted.

"Look, you know I'd happily come to yours just to see Martha, but why tonight?" she asked, still frowning. "I've got loads of work to do, so it's gotta be worth my time,"

"Trust me, Con, you're gonna love this idea!" he told her enthusiastically, though that still didn't make her any wiser. "Bring George along as well, in fact I'll invite all the lads round, it's business anyway,"

"Paul what on earth can I help the Beatles with business-wise?" She groaned until something dawned on her, memories of past Beatle visit to the New Times coming back to her as she glared at Paul, hitting his arm with her notebook. "Shitting hell, Macca, you haven't gone to the bloody press about acid and weed again have you, you swine? I'm sick of cleaning up your messes!"

"No, no, nothing like that," he shook his head, an apologetic smirk on his face, remembering how Connie had to write an article on drug culture and an explanation for the Beatles' use of substances.

It had been a good article, and one that had gotten a lot of praise, but she'd resented writing it, just because of the trouble all the lads could've gotten into. The last article she'd written in an attempt to get them out of trouble had been one about John's Jesus comment, in the hope that if she explained it with her own interview with her cousin things would calm down a little and they all wouldn't have to worry as much for their next tour. They'd all been grateful for her help, but Paul could tell just by the sceptical expression on her face that she wasn't convinced what he wanted wasn't another article.

"Alright, I've had this idea that we should make another film," he said, making her sigh with relief. "I've got some ideas, so's John. This time we're gonna do it all ourselves, y'know, get a film crew through Apple and direct it all ourselves, but I figure we should have a real writer help us out,"

A film was the last thing Connie thought he was going to suggest, and she knew instantly why he'd come to her. Paul knew that ever since she'd visited the sets of A Hard Days Night she wanted to write a screenplay of her own, or at least something that wasn't an article. He knew that since she was a teenager she wanted to write books and fiction, so she was rather pleased he'd thought of her, even though there were obvious flaws to her thinking.

"It's not a real Beatle film if I write it though really, is it?" she shugged, though Paul merely laughed.

"Oh bugger off, you're practically the fifth Beatle," he replied so casually, not noticing how Connie flinched ever so slightly, because in one little throwaway comment he'd contradicted all of her feelings from the last few months that she was now more of a Beatle girl rather than their own mate.

She bit her lip slightly, glancing over to her typewriter. She could barely focus on her work what with everything else going on around her, so maybe a break from the New Times would do her good? Maybe immersing herself in a different project that was a work of fiction instead of writing about the real world would help, not to mention she'd be doing it surrounded by her friends. Working on this film would help her reconnect with her mates, given the fact she felt like she'd not spent any proper time with them in ages. It would be work, but surely it would be fun work because she'd be with the lads?

"Fine," she said, trying not to show her excitement, something Paul didn't get the memo for as he clapped his hands together in victory, grinning at her excitedly. "I'll come over tonight, tell me your ideas then and I'll see if I can do anything with them. Now bugger off so I can do some proper work,"

***

Only a few hours later, Connie was sat cross-legged on Paul's living room floor, Martha laid across her lap asleep as she rested a notepad on the large dog's back. George was sat next to her, looking visibly tired though he was hiding it well with a smile, Ringo sat behind the two of them on the sofa, whilst John and Paul paced around the living room.

On the wall facing them, Paul had set up a chalkboard. Where he'd gotten it from Connie didn't have a clue, but in the centre he'd drawn a circle and had begun to sprawl out all of their ideas inside of it. That was until he remembered yet another curse of being lefthanded, his jumper sleeve stained white with chalk and the writing smudged unintelligibly. After laughing at him for a good few minutes, John took over, though his writing wasn't any neater. Connie was frowning up at the board, trying to decipher exactly what they wanted to do with the film, but a glance down to her blank notebook seemed to sum up the fact that she was still clueless.

"So, you want to do a film about a coach trip?" she asked cautiously, wanting to make sure she had their ideas straight, shooting a glance to George to see if he had any idea, though he merely shrugged, also clueless. "A coach trip with magicians and... Walruses?"

"No, you bint, the Walrus is one of the songs," John said matter-of-factly, as if Connie was meant to just understand that clearly.

"Right..." she said, tapping her pen against the pad as she bit her lip, still struggling to wrap her mind around it all. "Go on then, tell me. How much acid had you taken when you thought of all of that?"

"None at all actually!" Paul said, John nodding in agreement, though Connie saw that they were both understating themselves.

Connie nodded, raising her eyebrows as she held back any further judgement. In truth, as mad as it all seemed it did actually seem like quite a fun project. She glanced up at the board once more before looking back down at her notebook, beginning to write down some narrative points, cleaning up their ideas into an actual plot. She knew George was watching her, but she didn't pay him any attention, her mind too fixed on the ideas she'd just been fed.

Anyway, he always watched her whenever she was working in front of him. On the occasions that she'd brought work home he liked to sit and watch her, enjoying how she looked when she was concentrating. George always thought Connie was pretty, but to him she was even more so as she creased her eyebrows together in concentration, tucking her hair behind her ears and absentmindedly scratching behind Martha's ear as she began to write out bullet points, underlining things she thought were important and drawing stars around things she thought were extra important. It was nice to see her focusing on something that wasn't their struggles for a family, and seeing her take charge of John and Paul's chaotic ideas made her appeal to him in a way that he'd not felt in a while, not when all their intimacy had been for the sole purpose of trying.

"Right, no offence to you three but Ringo's the best actor so I'm giving him the most to do," she said without even looking up from her writing.

"Fine by me," John shrugged, flopping down on the sofa next to the drummer in question.

"I'm not gonna get stuck in a cellar with a tiger again am I?" Ringo asked, and Connie looked up to fire a sarcastic wink at him.

"Depends, don't irritate me from now till I'm done with the final draft and I'll spare you from tigers," she joked, laughing as she bit her lip in thought once more. "What songs are you thinking? Other than John's Walrus that makes total complete sense?"

As she'd asked the question she'd looked up at George, knowing he had an abundance of songs written, waiting to be used. She'd been there with him whilst he wrote most of them, telling him that they were all brilliant, but both of them knew that there was no way any of them would be used over John and Paul's stuff. The Lennon-McCartney songs were equally as good, but Connie couldn't help but think the contractual obligations for only their songs with one of George's wasn't fair.

"We've got stuff left over from Sgt. Peppers," John said dismissively. "Leave the music stuff to us, Con,"

"Yes, but the thing is, John, for this film to make a shred of sense, I'll need to at least have some sort of clue about what music you want to include so I can write it in logically, unlike your other films," she said, her tone ever so slightly irritated, knowing that John rarely liked to be bossed around, even if it was by her.

"Well that's for you to worry about then, isn't it?" John smirked almost spitefully, knowing he was irritating her.

George watched his wife carefully as she scowled at John, knowing that if they were still teenagers she'd have probably made some further cutting remark or just thrown her notebook at him, but instead she just sighed and went back to writing. It wasn't that her temper had mellowed, he knew she was just as fierce as she ever was, but she'd grown up, and had far more serious things to worry about than a stupid debate with her cousin.

***

Three weeks later, October 1967

The last thing both Connie and George needed in the middle of the night when they'd practically only just gone to sleep was for the phone to ring, but yet the shrill call came down the hallway and into their bedroom, waking both of them up.

"What the fuck-" Connie gasped out in shock as she shot up in bed, her voice rough from sleep, her eyes narrowed as she tried to see through the darkness. Out of instinct her arm shot out, trying to feel for George, and as she nudged him he let out a groan.

"Is that the phone?" he asked sleepily, rolling over and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Well it's not the fucking air raid siren is it?" she muttered, nudging him again. "At this time it's probably important. You're the man of the house, you get it,"

"No way, we bought this house fifty-fifty, you get it," he told her, but as she leant over and turned her bedside lamp on he saw how she glared at him, and he immediately pulled the sheets back, getting out of bed himself. "Alright, sorry, love,"

As soon as George was gone, Connie let out a long huff of a sigh, flopping back down, rubbing her forehead roughly with both hands. She heard the ringing stop as George picked up the phone in the hallway, but his voice was too muffled for her to hear what was going on and who was actually ringing. A sense of dread filled her, hoping that it wasn't something really awful, and part of her wished she'd gotten the call herself so she at least knew what was going on, but she felt far too tired to have gotten out of bed.

Instead of worrying, she stretched out and flicked the lamp back off, desperately wanting to go back to sleep. They were two days away from finishing the film shoot and it couldn't come quick enough. It had been fun at first, but she soon realised that being on set all day with the Beatles was a nightmare. Connie had grown up with them all, she knew what they could be like, but at work they were chaotically pedantic, and she was surprised she hadn't punched Paul the amount of times he'd ask her to rewrite scenes or add completely new parts to the script only minutes before they were meant to shoot. John hadn't been much better, as he would often improvise bits of dialogue and whenever she'd question him about changing what she'd written he'd just shrug and say it wasn't good enough for him, like he was trying to spite her for his own amusement. George and Ringo just seemed to get on with things, though Connie often found them sharing a joint behind the back of the bus whenever they weren't being filmed. She often thought that if she hadn't cut out all the smoking and drinking she'd happily join them she was that stressed with it all.

The entire project was testing her patience, and as she was laid in bed thinking about it all Connie couldn't help but think that if she couldn't put up with the Beatles bickering and irritating her as they acted like kids, how would she cope with a child of her own? Of course, she and George were no closer to that becoming a reality. It had been three weeks since she'd last gone for a pregnancy test, though that one had been on a whim, just going out of habit thinking that she would catch herself by surprise. The other times she'd gone she'd been practically certain that she was pregnant, only to leave disappointed and upset at having to break the news to George yet again that it hadn't happened. The longer it seemed to take the more she really wanted it to happen, but the last time she saw the doctor, even though he was telling her to stay positive, he had begun to look doubtful himself.

Of course, she was probably over analysing that. They'd been trying for well over a year at that point, it was bound to happen soon surely, at least that was what George told her. He seemed determined, refusing to admit defeat even if they were both tired of the whole process, though that was only natural. It had happened so quickly for everyone else they knew, by accident in some cases, so why hadn't it been like that for them?

Connie felt her mind going down a black hole and knew if she didn't pull herself out of the spiral she'd be stuck there for some time, as she had done many times before. Thankfully though, that was when she heard George hang up the phone and come padding back into their bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, he made his way through the darkness and back into bed, and as soon as he was under the sheets he let out a long, tired sigh, beckoning Connie close. She snuggled up to him, wrapping her arm across his front, her hand on his shoulder as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, feeling his own hand go to hold the small of her back, pulling her even closer as he pushed a kiss to her forehead.

"Who was it?" she mumbled out, pushing her own kisses to his neck. "No one's dead, are they?"

"No, don't worry," he chuckled quietly, running his other hand up and down her arm gently, enjoying the way his touch caused goose bumps to rise on her skin. "It was just Paul. He's just had a dream and now he wants to re-write the finale scene for tomorrow,"

"You mean the finale scene he's already had me write about five times?" she spoke, clenching her jaw in frustration, ignoring the low sigh of a laugh George let out at her anger.

"The very same," he nodded, stroking her arm again in a desperate hope to calm her down, her temper rising. "I'm sorry, love,"

"I'm going to kill him," she whispered, her voice far too tired to carry any aggression. "When I go back to the office, and Ruby's all excited wanting to know all the details and what it was like to work with you all, I'm just gonna tell her you're all swines,"

"Surely not me and Ringo," George laughed quietly, especially as he felt her nod against him. "Con?"

"What?" she answered, trying to concentrate on him and not how tired she was.

"It'll happen soon, y'know," he told her quietly. "Once the film's out of the way... I know it'll happen soon,"

Connie wondered if he'd sensed exactly where her mind was at as soon as he'd come back to bed. It didn't matter if he did though, not as his fingers slowly drifted from her bare arm to graze onto her stomach. Through the thin fabric of her nightgown she felt how gentle his touch was and knew no matter how long they had been trying he still wanted it to happen as badly as she did.

"I know," she said through a sigh, reaching her hand up to stroke his hair as she shut her eyes, enjoying feeling so close to him. "I love you so much, Georgie,"

He didn't respond, and soon the two of them drifted back off to sleep in each other's arms, completely unaware that in only two days time their hopes for a family would be put under even further strain.

***

Word count: 3864

***

Authors note:

Hi guys thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

I just wanna take this opportunity to thank everyone who votes and comments as I really appreciate the feedback and I love knowing that people are taking the time to read my work.

I also wanna day a massive thank you and shoutout to killsbill for making the most beautiful covers for both In My Life and Within You Without You, I'm so so grateful!

And finally, just wanna remind people that I also have a John fic on the go too called Nowhere Girl. It's a little different to this but hopefully if you enjoy Connie's story you'll love Robin's as well!

Until next time,
~Olivia