For the next two weeks, life seemed great. Time went by in a blur of meditation, writing, and laughs, and it was the happiest Connie had felt all year.

Her days were spent out on the grassy verge behind her bungalow meditating and writing, until she grew tired of those two and went to hang out with her friends. She spent a lot of time with Florence, discussing her move to London and the design houses she was going to apply to work with, as well as Connie's future career plans. It was quite clear to her that she couldn't go on just writing articles, and so she spent her time trying out writing a book. That was what she'd intended on doing when she first moved to London, and she used to try and create characters for her future books every morning on her way to work, but that was nearly eight years ago and nothing had happened except for her career taking off as a journalist. It was about time she went back to her original plan, and the ashram seemed like the perfect place to engage herself to it.

When she wasn't talking careers with Florence, she was with the boys. As if they were trying to make up for the last few months, Paul and Ringo had been spending a lot more time with her, often joining her when she was writing. Sometimes Paul would bring his guitar and would song write whilst she scribbled in her notebook, other times Ringo would just sit next to her and talk about nothing in particular. It was perfect, because Connie had learnt she worked best with a bit of chaos, and if there was one thing the Beatles provided, it was chaos.

She was spending a lot more time with George as well, which was wonderful. Hanging around with the boys more in the day meant that she didn't mind spending the evenings with the other girls, but it was often that George would come down from the roof and beckon for her to follow. No one was ever as important to her than George so of course she'd follow, and the two of them would walk hand-in-hand exploring the ashram as the sun set into night, wandering through the woodlands with only starlight and the moon to light their way. They'd lay by the river bank, listening to the river flow and all the other nature surrounding them, Connie's head on George's chest as he ran his fingers through her hair, occasionally pushing kisses to the top of her head. It was peaceful and serene, neither of them needing to talk but feeling closer than they had done in months.

The last few weeks had been wonderful, but there were a few downers to it all. The first being that her sickness bug hadn't really gone away, and every morning she'd be disturbed out of cuddling with her husband to go throw up. Though George would often sit with her and hold her hair back, she hated the pity-driven attention it got her, not to mention how tired and dizzy it made her feel. She had realised though that the best way to deal with it was to meditate, and George helped her focus on the meditation rather than the bug, and it became just a vague inconvenience to them.

The second downer was John. He'd set out to stubbornly avoid Connie at all costs. It was infuriating and though she wanted to confront him, she was just as stubborn as him. It reminded her of when she first told him she was moving to London, when he stormed out of her kitchen and refused to talk to her out of anger and betrayal. Connie had thought at the time that it was a selfish reaction, and she'd retaliated to it with silence, refusing to even humour him, until he eventually came round. Over time she'd realised it was fair enough for him to react like that and he had every right to be hurt. Before either of them had Paul, before either of them knew George, before either of them had met Ringo, they had each other. They were family, the only constant in each other's turbulent lives, so it was only natural for him to feel betrayed.

His previous protectiveness over her seemed to utterly contradict how he was acting in India though. Ignoring her, drifting away from the group whenever she was there, occasionally making snide remarks under his breath whenever she said anything. It was typical John behaviour, she'd grown up watching him be cutting and brutal, but he'd never directed it towards her, ever. She was his little cousin, and she wasn't used to him acting like she was just some regular person.  It wasn't fair, but Connie was too stubborn to admit she was hurt by it. Her emotions were still all over the place, and she definitely didn't trust herself to not break down upon confronting him knowing that would just make things far worse, so she ecided to stubbornly wait it out, wait until he spoke to her first.

Except she'd been waiting what felt like ages. After confronting them all, she'd made up with Paul and Ringo and things were better than ever with those two. In fact, she'd been waiting that long the days had blurred into one, not really able to separate one from the other since they were all pretty much the same. That didn't mean her silent feud with John was spoiling it all though as she tried to barely think about it, and that afternoon in particular was no different as she was sat out on the grassy verge behind her bungalow, her notebook set out in front of her as she tried planning out her book.

For once, Connie was struggling. She was still feeling a little dizzy from her sickness bug, but for the first time throughout the whole trip writer's block had finally kicked in. Though it was something she was used to given that she wrote for a living, it was different when fiction writing, harder and much more infuriating. That was why she was utterly relieved to see Paul wandering over to her with his guitar. He was wearing his usual friendly smile, and Connie couldn't help but notice the stubbled beard that had started coming through. All four lads had started growing out their facial hair again, and though Connie loved it when George had a beard or moustache, she especially liked the thought of Paul with a beard. It would suit him, and it would amuse her to no end to see the reaction of the fans.

"Alright, Lennie?" he called with a small wave.

"Alreyt, Paulie?" she called back with a grin, gesturing for him to sit down.

"You weren't at breakfast again, you okay?" he asked as soon as he'd sat down across from her.

"Yeah I'm fine, woke up late," she shrugged, deciding not to tell him the truth and change the topic completely as she pointed to his guitar. "You wrote owt new then? George has been writing,"

"Yeah I have," he nodded, winking at her. "Nothing good enough to play yet though,"

"When did you get all secretive?" she rolled her eyes. "I hope you remember how thin the walls were back home and I used to hear you writing songs on the toilet,"

"How could I ever forget," Paul laughed before looking down at her notebook as she tossed her pen down onto the open page. "What're you working on then?"

"I was trying to write a book, a fiction thing for teenagers about growing up working class, I never read stuff like that growing up and maybe if I did I wouldn't have felt like such an imposter when I moved to London," Connie explained with a shrug. "Except I've got writer's block, which you might not be able to relate to given the fact you're a songwriting genius but it's actually a bit of a problem,"

"Oi, don't compare what I write to your stuff it's completely different," Paul pointed out in an attempt to reassure her, knowing from experience how frustrated she could get when writing wasn't going right for her. "What do you normally do with writer's block?"

"Dunno, Ruby and I used to go out for lunch if we were struggling but then other press people started following us about after they realised I was going out with George," Connie told him, rolling her eyes as she thought about all the times she'd had to run back to the office, being chased just because of the man she was courting. "After that we'd just turn the radio up or if I was at home I'd put a record on,"

With that Paul flashed her a grin, adjusting his guitar on his lap as his fingers settled on the strings, playing out a chord that was overly familiar to Connie. If this was his solution to her problem, she was more than happy with it as he began playing her favourite Beatles song.

"In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs, of every head he's had the pleasure to have known, all the people that come and go stop and say hello," he sang, noticing Connie's grin. "On the corner is a banker with a motorcar, the little children laugh at him behind his back, and the banker never wears a mac in the pouring rain, very strange,"

"Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes," Connie sang along with him, memories of childhood and youth flooding back to her. "There benheath the blue suburban skies I sit, and meanwhile back,"

"In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass and in his pocket is a portrait of the queen," Paul continued singing as Connie let out a quiet laugh. "He likes to keep his fire engine clean,"

"It's a clean machine!" she chimed in again, thinking about the particular fireman they were singing about with fondness. "Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, a four of fish and finger pies,"

"In summer, meanwhile back behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout, the pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray," Paul sang, watching Connie carefully, remembering how she reacted the first time she heard that particular verse. "And though she feels as if she's in a play, she is anyway,"

The two of them continued to sing, laughing as if they were still teenagers without a care in the world, and as Paul finished the song with a flourish on the guitar, Connie applauded, letting out a sarcastic whistle. It was never boring hearing any of the boys play, especially when it was spontaneous like that had been. She knew there were countless people who'd see that sort of occasion as such an honour, that there were millions of people who'd happily trade places with her out of deseration to be close enough to any of the Beatles to have private concerts, but to her it was the most casual thing in the world. To her it was just her old neighbour singing a song that just so happened to feature both of her parents; her father the fireman, her mother the nurse.

"Me Dad never lets anyone forget that he's in a Beatles' song," Connie told him with a grin, leaning over to ruffle Paul's hair. "Apparently now whenever he has to drive down Penny Lane his other work mates hate it because he always has to ring the bell, say's he's gotta let people know the actual Clean Machine is there,"

"See, I knew Arthur Jones would take fame from a song so graciously," Paul joked, making Connie snort out a laugh.

"I mean, he took it a lot better than my Mum would've done," she commented, and Paul stopped laughing, watching her carefully once more. "I'm surprised you mentioned the pretty nurse, you never even met my Mum, at least not back in the days where she used to sell poppies,"

"I know, but I'd see her around, y'know when my Mum took me out to Penny Lane, but I obviously just didn't know who was," Paul explained, looking down at the grass. "When I was writing it, I was thinking about all the times I'd sit at the bus stop with John, and it reminded me of all the other times I'd been down there, even as a kid. First time I played it to John he thought it was really funny, that I'd accidentally written a song about your parents,"

"I love it," she told him sincerely, flashing him another grin. "I know I love all your songs, but tht one just feels special, y'know?"

"Remember that first time after I moved in that we went down to Penny Lane?" Paul recalled. "We were both home alone and you were adament you wanted a steak and kidney pie so we had to go to Penny Lane because it had the best chip shop,"

"Well yeah, they are the best," she stated what she thought was the truth, feeling a sudden overwhelming craving for a pie. "I might be a vegetarian now but their pies were still the greatest in all of Liverpool,"

"Yeah, well we got the bus there and the whole way we were just singing rock and roll songs," Paul reminded her adjusting his guitar again, fiddling with the tuning as he grinned. "Little Richard was in the charts then,"

"Back when music was good," Connie remarked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

As the two of them were caught going down memory lane, the pair of them didn't even notice the sound of footsteps behind them. It was only when they heard someone clear their throat that they both turned around and saw Ringo, who wore a smile to greet the two of them but both Connie and Paul could tell there was something wrong based on the small frown ceasing across his forehead.

"Everything alright, Rings?" Connie called to him as he approached, jumping to her feet.

"Yeah... you haven't seen John around have you?" he asked, and Paul immediately set his guitar aside to stand next to Connie. "Cynthia say's she hasn't seen him all day, I thought he'd be with you,"

"We haven't seen him," Paul shook his head, looking between Connie and Ringo. "It's not like he could've gone far, he's probably just meditating,"

Maybe he was just meditating, or maybe he'd wandered off. The ashram was pretty big, but the nearest town was only an hour away so it wouldn't be surprising if he'd gotten a taxi and gone exploring off on his own. At the same time though, Connie didn't really want to shrug it off. It was probably family instinct, but Connie seemed to instantly forget about whatever grudge was occurring between the two of them, and knew she wanted to go off and find her cousin.

Paul and Ringo both seemed to notice the determined look that crossed Connie's face as she folded her arms across her chest. They'd both have to be stupid to have not noticed the way John and Connie had been acting around each other the last few weeks. Except they also knew that Connie was willing to drop any sort of grudge the moment she felt worried over her cousin.

"Right, I'll go and find him," she told both of them, and there was nothing either of them could have said to change he mind as she left them both behind in her search for John.

***

Connie must have been wandering around the ashram for around two hours before she found John. She spotted him sat on the outskirts of the forest, looking up at the trees with his guitar on his lap. He wasn't playing though, sat in silence as he watched the nature of the ashram.

He looked peaceful, even if she was seeing him from behind, and Connie almost felt bad for nearly disturbing him. Part of her wanted to just leave him. She could go back to the others and tell them that he was alright and was just out writing with his guitar, but the temptation to go over and talk to him was overwhelming. When would she next get the chance to talk to him alone? Maybe this was the opportunity she'd been waiting for, so she headed over to him quietly, hoping not to startle him.

John clearly heard her, no matter how quietly she tried to keep her footsteps, and though he didn't fully acknowledge her, he didn't get up and walk away when she sat down next to him. She sat hugging her knees to her chest, looking at the trees for a moment before she glanced over at John, daring to flash him a small smile. He didn't smile back, but he instead pushed his glasses further up his nose and glanced at her, as if trying to figure out what she was doing.

"Everyone was wondering where you were, no one's seen you all day," Connie explained with a small shrug.

"No such thing as peace then, even on the other side of the world," John stated bluntly, and Connie couldn't help but let out a small laugh, even though she knew he wasn't joking.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, I just wanted to come and see how you're doing," she said, hesitating before she added, "I miss you, Johnny,"

Connie immediately regretted adding the last part as soon as John let out a laugh of his own, sounding bitter and almost spiteful. She felt hurt, but she also felt angry, and didn't want to let him get away with making her feel bad yet again. This was her cousin, someone she'd always tried to be there for throughout everything, yet all she could think of was what he'd said the other night to her, and every hurtful thing afterwards.

"Did you really mean it that being George's wife cancels everything else out?" she asked before she could stop herself. When she saw Johns frown she rolled her eyes. "You said it on the roof, that me being your cousin and your mate doesn't matter because I'm now I'm one of the wives,"

"Bloody hell, you're actually bothered by that?" John exclaimed with another laugh.

"Yeah, maybe I am, I'm allowed to be," she said, her careful tone contrasting with his amusement. "And I'd like you to take me seriously for once and not laugh at how I'm feeling,"

John shrugged, and as he glanced over at her once more, his glasses had slipped down his nose slightly and he was looking at her over the small round lenses. he looked almost considerate, and it felt like for the first time in a while he was looking at her properly. It was an expression of almost concern, as if he was finally considering everything she'd said a few weeks ago. For a moment Connie thought he was going to say something, until he shook his head with a practically inaudible sigh, setting his guitar aside as he dug in his trouser pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

John lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag and expelling a long puff of smoke. A few years ago Connie would have asked if she could have one too, and the two of them would sit and smoke together, but she couldn't think of anything worse. Ever since she quit she'd still loved the smell, but on that occasion there was something about the smoke that made her feel sick. She grimaced at the scent and felt her stomach tense up, and before she could stop herself she took the cigarette from his fingers and stubbed it out onto the ground, making sure it was completely put out. She could still smell the nicotine though and so she was so focused on trying not to feel sick that she barely noticed John's reaction.

When she did look over to John apologetically, she realised he looked outraged. She knew he had a right to be, it was quite erratic of her to do something like that and it was his cigarette after all, but he was looking at her open-mouthed in shock, his arms folded across his chest. He stared at her for a moment, like he was challenging her, until he looked off into the distance as if he couldn't bare to look at her anymore.

"What's wrong with you, Constance?" he muttered darkly, his shaggy hair blocking her from seeing him properly. "What's all that about, when'd you turn into such a fucking snob? No smoking, no drinking, then there's all that fuss from the other night, everyone's gotta be looking at you and thinking about you all the time or you're not happy,"

"Fuck off I'm not a snob," she snapped back, her hands clenching into fists out of reflex as she changed her position to face him properly. "There's stuff that's gone on in my life that you have no idea about, John, so don't you dare tell me what I am when you can't even come close to understanding,"

"Oh, so it's just you who has problems then?" he let out a bitter laugh. "You don't know what's going on in my life either, you've no fucking clue-"

"What, that new woman?" she interrupted quickly, raising her eyebrows at him, unable to keep the smirk off her face as she saw his shocked and confused expression.

She wasn't quite sure how her stubbing out his cigarette had escalated to that point at such a speed, but it just seemed to highlight to both of them how out of touch they were. Their tempers and hot-headed natures were not a good mix when directed at each other, and though they'd never really had proper arguments, their disagreements always heightened far too quickly. This occasion, however, seemed to show both of them how badly disconnected they were with each other, especially as an awkward silence extended between them both as they stared at each other, neither one of them sure who should make the next move.

John cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses and flicking his hair back from his eyes. Connie looked away, knowing she'd overstepped the mark by bringing up what Paul had told her, but part of her really didn't care. John did though as he sighed again, looking around them to make sure no one else was in hearing distance. There was no one else around though, it was just the two Lennon's alone with each other and their problems.

"Who told you?" he asked bluntly, his tone still angry but much calmer and somehow that was much more unnerving, not that Connie let it bother her. "Jesus, you haven't told Cyn?"

"No of course I haven't, that's your business telling your wife if you're having an affair," she shrugged, trying to make out that she didn't care. "It's not my business to gossip, but you're my family, and I thought you knew you could tell me anything,"

"If I can tell you anything, then how come there's all this stuff that's gone on with you that I don't have a clue about?" he asked, mocking her previous words. "Come on, don't be expecting me to tell you about Yoko if you won't tell me about your shit,"

He had her there, and she had to admit he had a point. She couldn't really expect John to tell her his secrets when she didn't tell him hers. It was her turn to sigh now, offering him a small, apologetic smile. As much as she wanted to question him on his mention of this new woman, this 'Yoko', she realised it was probably not the right time and he wouldn't respond well to any questions.

"Fine, you tell me what's going on with you, I'll tell you what's going on with me?" she offered in exclamation, but when he gestured for her to carry on, she realised he expected her to talk first. "Well, sure, whatever. I probably can't have kids, even though we were trying for ages, and I didn't wanna tell anyone because I didn't want to make it anyone else's problem or make it a big deal,"

She said it so casually and bluntly, not feeling the overwhelming emotion of it as she had done before when talking to Florence or George. That was probably because she'd been motivated to tell John out of frustration, not to mention she'd been living with it for so long. If he'd not made her feel guilty she wouldn't have told him, and even if she had only told him out of anger it was still a little jarring to see John's reaction. He still looked a little annoyed with her, but she could see he was taken aback, looking almost sorry for her. The sympathy was something she hated, but she was glad she'd told him because at least now he'd understand.

"That's why you went sober?" he asked after another moment of silence, and as she nodded he let out a quiet curse, still annoyed with her as he exclaimed, "Jesus Christ, Con, did you not fancy telling me something that important? Why didn't George say anything?"

"I'm not saying us not talking about it was the right decision, it was just the one we made at the time that escalated," she explained with a shrug, folding her arms across her chest out of nerves. "It is what it is, y'know. I'm fine, we're fine. I just felt really shit about it for a while, rightfully so, but I'm okay now, I just want things to be normal with us, I feel bad for not telling you,"

"I didn't think you even liked kids," John remarked simply, and Connie had to hold back a laugh. "Not to touch a nerve or anything, I just thought Jules was the exception,"

"He's not the exception, I like Ringo's lads," she pointed out, running her hands through her hair as she thought about how best to explain her thoughts to him. "You're right though, I didn't really like kids, but I wanted a family. I know it doesn't make sense, but I thought... a little person who looks like me but acts like George, heaven forbid it be the other way around that poor kid'd be a nightmare, that'd be something really special, and it'd be ours, y'know? Our family, our kid... I mean, not that it really matters, it's not gonna happen any time soon,"

"Well, all the same, Con, I'm sorry," John said, and though he tone was casual she knew he was sincere. "That's really shit for you, I'm sorry,"

The two of them didn't normally deal with emotional stuff and feelings, so this was new territory that neither of them were very comfortable with. The only time they ever really properly talked about their feelings was when their mothers died, but after the initial grieving the two of them repressed whatever was going on. It wasn't healthy, but it was what they thought had worked for them, knowing that no matter what they still had each other's backs and knew what was going on, even if they didn't talk about it. Connie wasn't sure when she'd started feeling more comfortable with her own emotions, but it had clearly not happened with John as he was not only uncomfortable with how to deal with Connie, but with telling her what was going on with him.

"To be honest, Con, I didn't want to bother you lately, you've been acting right odd lately," he began to explain. "Obviously it now makes sense, but I just thought you were just acting different and all, aloof, y'know. I just didn't get what was going on, maybe I've just been mad at you cause I didn't get you and I'm not used to that... I've had a lot going off in me head lately, not to sound daft or owt,"

That was what made her realise that she was just as much at fault. She'd spent the last few months feeling sorry for herself and though she had the right to feel down about her struggles, she'd also failed to notice that John had his own struggles.

"John you're not daft just cause you've got feelings," she reassured him, trying not to sound too serious, knowing that he didn't really like emotional heart-to-hearts. "We're family, I don't give a shit if you think you're being daft, y'know I'm here for you, even if you're an arse sometimes,"

"Takes one to know one, swine," John shrugged, though he flashed her a grin. "You had a right to be mad, sorry for not admitting that and for making you feel like shit,"

"Sorry I've not been there for you either," she told him. "What's going off in your head then?"

"Dunno really, work stuff, life stuff," he said, and Connie knew he was about ready to change the topic until she looked at him with raised eyebrows, encouraging him to carry on. "God, you're not gonna give up 'till I tell you about Yoko are you? You better bloody swear not to mention it to anyone else especially not Cyn,"

"I'm not gonna tell your wife, John, that's for you to do," she rolled her eyes. "I might not always like or agree with your decisions, but you're still me cousin,"

"Well that's good to know," he let out a short laugh. "I think you'll like Yoko. She's an artist, I thought she was a bit mad at first, but she's alright, and I really like her. She'd been following me around for a while, y'know coming to the house, standing outside the studio, but when I actually gave her a chance she's a great woman,"

Instantly Connie had to hold back on her cynicism. John had been going out with Cynthia for nearly ten years and Connie had gotten used to her. She liked her, rightfully classing her as family, yet John was sure this new woman would get her seal of approval so quickly. It might have just been her worrying for him, not to mention how he'd phrased it, but Connie couldn't help but be wary, her protectiveness over John rearing it's head. Still though, Connie offered John a small smile, elbowing him in the side.

He wouldn't appreciate her criticisms, and since she'd not yet met this Yoko, she couldn't really make her mind up completely. Perhaps nothing would come of it, perhaps soon he'd remember he had a family already, and they weren't worth sacrificing for an affair. Either way, she'd save her judgement and try and support John, because that was probably all he needed from her, but she couldn't stop herself from totally withholding her opinion.

"Just... tread carefully, John," she advised. "You're a grown man, you can make your own decisions, and if you decide you do really like this woman enough, remember your family. You've been married to Cyn for a while, so just be kind to her how you go about it, not to mention your son. This'll affect Jules way more than you think, and even if you don't wanna stay with Cyn, you can't abandon him, he'll still need his father,"

"You're right, bloody hell you normally are," John nodded, daring to flash her a small grin. "You always were the smarter Lennon,"

"Glad you can finally admit the truth," she smiled, and before she could stop herself she'd asked, "We all good then?"

"Course we are, you sentimental sod," he laughed, leaning over and ruffling her hair, before he looked almost conflicted, like he wasn't sure whether he should say what he was thinking. "At the end of the day, you are me sister, Con,"

***
Word count: 5356

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