February 1968

Connie Harrison-Lennon hated flying.

They'd not even taken off yet, but there was something about the vibe on a plane that scared her. She usually managed to calm down when they were nearly there, and oddly she didn't mind landing since it meant the ordeal was over, but they were no where near landing yet. Her eyes screwed shut, she had one of her hands tightly clasped around the arm rest of her cramped seat, and the other squeezing onto George's hand, her husband grimacing from her tight grip ever so slightly, not that she noticed or cared. She hated flying, and was pretty sure that she always would and no amount of reassurance from George or calming thoughts about their impending destination could make her feel safe during take off. That didn't stop him trying though, ever the caring partner who hated to see her upset or hurting.

"Just breathe, love," George whispered to her as the plane moved down the runway, careful not to attract the attention of of anyone else on the plane, especially not Connie's cousin, sat the row in front of them.

If there was one thing Connie hated more than flying, it was being teased by John Lennon. You'd think considering that the two had grown up together that she'd gotten used to his jibes, and she had most of the time. Usually she could put up with his teasing, she could deal with him ruffling her hair and mocking her, but when they were on a plane her flight-or-fight mode kicked in and she took no nonsense from him. It didn't help that the first time she ever flew had been to go with the Beatles on their second US tour, and he found it hilarious just how nervous she was. He'd made up some stupid story about how the plane had to go upside down to land whilst they were halfway to America when everyone else was asleep. With no one else conscious to hear John's tale, everyone was rather confused as to why Connie was terrified when it came to landing, and why she practically threw herself at John, trying to punch him until Ringo and Paul pulled her away, all the while John was hysterically laughing.

Flying was a problem, because as much as she loved travelling, the fear of taking off into the air dominated her emotionally to the point she had to fight against having a panic attack. She tried not to let it bother her too much since she loved going abroad, a privilege she still marvelled at since she grew up working class. Knowing that she was so fortunate to be able to go to so many different places across the world, as scared as she was she was excited for the trip, that trip being to India.

Connie and George had visited India before, after the Beatles finished their last ever tour. The two of them had planned for a holiday to celebrate the end of what had become a rather stressful part of both of their lives and to reconnect, treating the trip as a second honeymoon, and both of them fell in love with the country. George became invested in the culture, the music and the spirituality of the place, and Connie loved it all too, mostly because of how happy and content it seemed to make George after the pressures of touring and being in the public eye. It was nice to go to a place where they could just be together and explore who they really were when they weren't being hounded by the press. The two of them came back from that trip different people, both of them becoming more observant to the world around them.

Whilst Connie took up yoga, meditation and vegetarianism, the latter being something her father didn't really understand considering her past affection for steak pies, George became fully engrossed in the spirituality they'd experienced in Kashmir. He took up meditation too, and began to learn how to play the sitar, an instrument that fascinated Connie to the extent she'd sit and watch him play for hours. They returned very much changed, but the life they returned to wasn't as calm as they'd hoped it would be.

Connie seemed to have an ever-growing list of responsibilities at the New Times as the magazine became more and more popular as the decade went on. The firing of Henry Atweed back in 1964 had left room for Connie and Ruby to cover more content themselves, and since both of them had been there for nearly eight years they were being trusted with more editorial roles. Connie in particular had a long contact list she'd built up through her close relationship to the band and her friendship with Brian Epstein, which seemed to pay off for the magazine as she managed to provide exclusive content. It wasn't like she cashed in on her friendships, instead some artists trusted her more with certain stories and details as she wasn't just a journalist but a friend. It was great, and she was thrilled she was finally getting recognised as a writer, but as she was surrounded by work for the magazine she couldn't help but feel as though she was forgetting her true passion. She'd always wanted to be a fiction writer, and she'd always seen the magazine as a way for her to make a name for herself before she went on to write her own novels. It wasn't like she put her own creative work on hold entirely, since Paul had roped her into helping them with their film Magical Mystery Tour, but she still wasn't sure if her work with that project had helped or hindered her in gaining respect as a fiction writer.

George's life as a Beatle, however, seemed to be nothing but chaotic. The band's decision to stop touring had been the right one given the fact they were all exhausted and felt as though they were just a travelling band to be screamed at. Sometimes George would come home from a tour and just sleep for days from exhaustion, hardly able to talk about the madness of it all. Being surrounded by endless mobs of journalists and fans had taken it's toll on all of them, and so they stuck to working in the studios, a decision that resulted in the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band album. It was Connie's personal favourite after A Hard Day's Night, but it seemed to signify the changes in the band. The songs reflected the current times, a perfect sixties album for the summer of love, but it also worried her as to how much things had changed from their first album when they were all still practically kids.

They weren't kids anymore, and that was something that Connie had to regularly remind herself. The last few years had been hard on them all. After losing Brian none of them knew what to do, feeling heartbroken, and Connie knew the way John looked as he was being interviewed, looking like the lost little kid she knew from childhood, would haunt her for a long time. Losing Brian seemed to hit all of them hard, and there were obvious cracks starting to show in the band, both in their careers and in their personal lives. None of them really knew what to do, and they were all rather lost.

That was hopefully what the trip to India was going to fix. Connie and George had found themselves on a trip to India before, maybe the place would have the same effect on the rest of the band, especially since they were going to visit the ashram of the Maharishi in Rishikesh to study Transcendental Meditation. Maybe if they were all going to go together and study meditation, maybe the rifts would be healed and everything would go back to how it once was, back when everything seemed so easy and nice.

"Oi," a voice called from across the aisle, and Connie dared to open her eyes, glancing over to see her childhood best friend Florence looking at her with wide eyes. "Is it supposed to be shaking like this?"

"Fuck off, Florie," Connie hissed, shooting her a glare, and she could hear George holding back a laugh as he squeezed her hand gently. "And you too, Harrison. Don't make me regret inviting you, Blackwell,"

The trip to India was originally going to just be the Beatles and their inner circle, meaning the wives and girlfriends, but after Florence turned up at Kinfauns a week before they were meant to be going, broken-hearted and drunk, Connie decided the only sensible thing to do was to bring her friend along with her. It was a good idea, since the two hadn't seen each other much what with Florence still living in Liverpool, and the trip provided Florence with the perfect distraction from her very recent break up with Rory Storm, the nature of which she had still not told Connie.

Even nursing a broken heart, Florence still found the time to poke fun out of Connie, cracking a grin and letting out a single laugh at her harsh reaction. Connie tried not to see it as a personal attack, knowing it was just her way given the fact she was the only single person on the plane. Everyone else had their partner with them, with John and Cynthia sat next to each other in silence in front of her and George, Paul and Jane sat behind them, and Ringo and Maureen sat in front of Florence. She wasn't part of the Beatles' inner circle and so was probalby feeling out of her depth, even if the band had welcomed her with open arms thanks to her being from home, it just so happened that Connie would have to face the brunt of that.

The plane speeded up and Connie grimaced, feeling her chest tighten in nerves. She took in a deep breath, holding it in as they took off into the air. She counted slowly to ten, trying to remember how calm she felt when meditating, but that was an emotional state she could only dream about at that point, especially as they dipped slightly from turbulence, her stomach flipping. She let out a quiet groan, one that she thought only George noticed.

"You alright?" he asked her quietly, watching her face carefully as it creased into a frown of discomfort.

"I will be," she promised half-heartedly in a whisper, still desperate for her nerves to go unnoticed. She wasn't that lucky though, not as she felt someone poke her arm as she held onto the armrest, and without turning around she snapped, "If you fucking touch me, McCartney, I'll throw you out of this plane myself,"

"Sorry, Lennie," the voice of her old neighbour muttered from behind her. "I thought you got over your fear of flying?"

"Doesn't really look like it, does it?" George spoke up on her behalf, glancing behind him to his bandmate.

"It's not a fear its-" she began to argue back stubbornly but was cut off as Paul laughed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Lennie, its humbling actually," he laughed, poking her arm again. "There was a time the great Connie Lennon was afraid of nothing, it's like seeing a more human side of you,"

"She'll be fine soon once we're up there," George said quickly, knowing that his wife wasn't so scared that she wouldn't try and start a fight with his bandmate.

For a while, she thought George was right and that she'd be fine. As soon as the plane was steady and they were officially on their way, Connie dared to let go of the armrest, clenching and unclenching her fist to stretch out her fingers, letting out a long exhale. She didn't let go of George's hand though, instead loosening her grip ever so slightly, for which he was grateful and let out his own sigh of relief. She tried to distract herself from any remaining nerves and so she lent over to her bag resting by her feet and pulled out her book.

"Little Women again?" George noticed with a small smile as he raised his eyebrow.

"I asked Ruby for some book recommendations and she gave me this massive list but I know what I'm like and I knew I'd get stressed and want to read something I actually like," Connie explained, opening the rather tired looking book to where the bookmark was placed about halfway through. "Besides, this one reminds me of me Mum. She used to read it to me every night when she was still here, and she'd do a different voice for each character except for Marmee, when she'd do her normal voice. I think she used to like the idea of her being that sort of mother that was really kind and charitable but with a wild side, and she used to joke that I was just like Jo,"

The thought of her mother still made her sad, even sixteen years later, and even though she tried to think of her everyday with the sadness just being part of her life, the reminder of that specific part of her childhood seemed to sting even more on that occasion. Connie often tried to forget about the tragic parts about her relationship with her mother, but thinking about how much she loved the story of those four strong little women seemed to resonate with a lot of feelings Connie worked hard to repress. The thought of her mother sharing her favourite story with her, entrusting her with something that meant so much to her because of her maternal love brought everything Connie tried not to think about up to the surface of her mind.

A lot of things did that though. Connie had a lot of thoughts and feelings she tried to bury, but something would always happen in her daily life that would leave her caught up in a whirlwind haze of bad memories and pain. Growing up with the grief of her mother Connie always thought she could deal with any pain of that sort, but the last few months had proved that wrong. Courting and marrying George had instilled the belief within her that nothing was impossible, that while ever he was at her side she could handle anything, but that wasn't true either. If it was, she still wouldn't struggle to sleep every night, haunted by the memories of what could've been hers.

She shut her book, closing her eyes once more as she took in a deep breath. The thoughts were there, taking root into her mind, and she knew from experience that they were now unavoidable. Maybe one day she'd be able to think about what had happened without immediately feeling as if her insides were twisting up, maybe the mediation course they were going on would help her overcome it all, but until she reached that point, she had no choice but to ride it out, take a few deep breaths and try and stay calm.

Staying calm felt impossible though, especially when it came to that topic, so much so that she felt her stomach flip once more. Feeling utterly overwhelmed, she bit her lip, quickly undoing her seat belt and without saying anything to George, she made her way to the back of the plane where the toilet was. Once she was shut in, locking the door behind her, she felt her stomach flip again and before she could stop herself she was leaning over the toilet throwing up.

Once she was done, Connie sat back, leaning against the wall of the toilets. It wasn't necessarily comfortable or hygienic, but it was better than going back out to everyone and having to act like things were normal. She was sick of pretending, and so she let out a long sigh, letting her head fall into her hands. The vomiting was just travel sickness mixed with nerves and anxiety, though she never usually tended to throw up, and she knew thankfully the engines of the plane would have blocked out the noise so no one would really know when she re-emerged.

George would know though, and not just about the throwing up part. He'd know exactly what she'd been thinking about, what had driven her to near a panic attack. He always knew, and though that was a good thing as it meant their pain could exist as an unspoken barrier in their relationship, it was also something that bothered her. It had been a while, and she knew that whilst sometimes George would treat her like normal, other times he would look at her and remember everything they had come so close to having. That was what Connie found so bitterly painful, that everything could have been so different, that they could have been a family but instead they just carried on like usual; Connie and George, except with the echo of what they could've had following them closely.

Connie didn't realise she'd been crying until she stood up, looking in the mirror. She washed her hands, spashing her face with cold water before drying it off with the paper towels, fiddling with the silver locket around her neck as if reminding herself that things were alright even if they felt like they weren't. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile to herself in the mirror, before unlocking the door, making her way back out to the rest of the plane.

Thankfully no one had really noticed her gone, with even Florence not looking up as she returned, far too busy flicking through a design sketchbook. Except George noticed, offering her a kind smile as she sat back down next to him. It wasn't one she reciprocated though, instead distracting herself as she lifted her bag up onto her lap, rummaging through it to find a bottle of water and a pack of chewing gum. She was so focused on washing the taste out of her mouth that she didn't notice George's hand stroking her arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, and when she responded just through a nod he knew exactly what was going on. "Were you thinking about..."

"Yeah, but it's fine, I'm okay," she interrupted quickly, not wanting him to say it because she knew it hurt him just as much. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, as long as you are," he told her, taking hold of her hand, nudging his knee against hers. "I love you, Con,"

"I know," she nodded again, flashing him a half-hearted smile. "I love you too,"

***

Word count: 3134

***