REVIVAL
by Kelonzi

John watched the backstage monitor with interest. He and the girls had adopted better disguises-- matching blue raincoats with STAFF ID tags hanging around their necks. Only Jess' tag was the real deal, but at least now if they were eyeballed it wouldn't be because they looked horribly out of place. While Paul was onstage, there was very little chance of them being stopped anyway, since moving sets for the next number, tuning instruments, and other odd jobs were occupying everyone's time. Still, had an inquisitive person stopped long enough to examine their 3 X 5 inch pieces of plastic, he would have found that Kara was a 40 year old black man named Butch, and John was a blonde hairdresser with braces called Jillian.

Slowly, John became lost in his own world as he watched his old mate blasting away onstage. After all the years, Paul still had it -- that spark of indominable performance spirit. It was the same energy that had caused the screaming teenage groupies to swoon, the magazine photographers to seek him out in a fashion akin to the Holy Grail... John smiled a bit at the memories. He'd hated it at the time, but hindsight was 20/20. That rose-colored glasses thing he had heard so much about. It was nice to see some things hadn't changed while he was six feet under.

"John?" Kara whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Jess thinks she spotted Andrea. We're going to go check it out. Think you'll be okay here?"

"Ah'll manage." He replied, adding sarcastically, "but thanks for askin' me, mum."

Kara rolled her eyes. He could be both sweet and infuriating all in the same moment. "See you in a few, then, son. Stay out of trouble."

John blew a raspberry at her retreating form, then chuckled. He appreciated someone who would fire back. Not just sit there and take the barbs he threw. It was his way of seeing what someone was made of-- ballsy or crybaby?

"Boy, that guy's really something ain't 'e, pardner?" A man with a distinctive southern drawl sidled up next to John.

"Always was." John said more to himself than to the man.

* * * * *

Kara and Jess threaded through the crowd, gaining passage only by virtue of a quick ID tag flash. The Music Hall had never looked so crowded... people were up out of their seats, dancing in the aisles, pressing toward the stage... Without their tags, Jess was certain, they wouldn't have gotten one foot in front of the other. "Venue security!" Jess mumbled to a couple as she pushed by. She blushed moments later when she realized that the two had been right in the middle of a heated, passionate kiss.

"Sheesh. Get your tongue rings linked together, suck-faces?" Kara felt a bit of John's devil-may-care attitude rubbing off.

Jess had to resist the urge to slap Kara. "What's gotten into you?"

"They do that in public, they deserve it." Kara's eyes scanned the crowd for another opening.

"You could have been more diplomatic."

"Yeah... but where would the fun have been in that?" Kara brusquely added. "You stick to diplomacy, and I'll keep looking for Andrea."

Almost on cue, Jess and Kara broke through to a side pocket where a group of teens were sitting on the floor, "discretely" passing around a joint.

"Oh fun." Jess sighed.

A not-at-all-surprised Kara spotted Andrea among the group. "There!"

"Where?"

"Right between that kid with too much facial hair and--- is he a werewolf?"

"Not helping..."

Kara shrugged and pointed.

Andrea glanced up. "Ooo. Hey guys! Didn't know you were fans..."

"We've come to take you home, Dree." Jess said gently, realizing how violent a group of stoners could turn if they sensed she had come to break things up. "We... miss you at home."

"Don't wanna go." Dree mumbled as she looked around for something. Spotting what she desired, she pointed her finger and floated the marijuana joint over to her waiting hands. "Keith said he would show everyone something cool." She took a drag, letting it out slowly.

Both Jess and Kara exchanged a "look". She's spaced. Now how do we get her out of here without causing a scene?

"I'm sure he could show you some other time." Kara's patience was growing mighty thin. They'd already been through hell to get to her. Delaying the retreat was not something she looked forward to.

"Nope. Said tonight was the only time he could do it."

An older man, who Jess took to be this 'Keith' guy made his way through the throng of people to Andrea's side. He pulled a lumpy paper bag from his coat as he stroked her cheek. She shivered with pleasure as a spark of blue energy leapt from his hand to her chest. As Andrea reeled happily about like some strung out junkie, Keith crinkled aside the brown paper surrounding his surprise. There, in his cracked and calloused palm sat---

"Whoa. Nice piece." Andrea smiled, her two friends being the complete opposite, and drawing far back. Keith's smile was wicked... dangerous...

In two shakey, tobacco-stained hands, sat a gun.

* * * * *

"How the hell did that get past security sweeps?!" Jess hissed under her breath, more to herself than to Kara.
The redhead shrugged her shoulders, eyes wild with alarm. "This is bad bad."

Keith passed his pride and joy over to Andrea for a moment. She took it with the same hazy smile she had been wearing for a while now. Slowly, she traced her fingers over the entire weapon, chrome to handle. "I like it."

"Want to practice aiming? Pick something that looks pretty."

"We have to stop this." Jess tensed and bent down slowly. "Dree? Hand me the gun." She could feel her heart carrying on like a bass drum. "You don't want to hurt someone by accident."

Dree cocked her head. "Won't hurt. Just want to play with it a little. Keith said I could."

The man, who Jess could only assume was a warlock, if he had such a command of magic, turned his head with an icy glare.

The words weren't spoken aloud, but Kara could hear them in her mind. You see? She just wants to have some fun. I wouldn't get in the way. That thing's loaded with a full round. Just in case a few bullets manage to go astray. How much experience does she have with a firearm, anyway?

You make me sick. Kara 'thought' at him, assuming their link was a two-way deal. Get out of my mind, and get out of her's.

You can't stop it. He'll die. Keith cut off his thoughts from her with a nod of his head.

Jess stared at Kara with a question mark written across her face.
"He's controlling her." Kara said in a whisper to answer Jess' unspoken question. "That spark must have been to numb her senses. He wants to use that gun and set Dree up as the scapegoat." She watched the two practicing with the gun. No one had noticed yet, but if it was up to Kara, they would soon. Andrea had hooked up with another one of her 'questionable' friends. Only this one only wanted her to commit murder for him. But who did he want dead? 'He'll die'. She could still hear his voice in her mind, even if they were no longer linked. The target was a man. She scanned the crowd with her eyes briefly. This is like a needle in a haystack.

Jess nodded that she understood what Kara said, but continued to focus on Andrea. Get the gun out of her hands... get the gun out of her hands... her brain ran over and over like a mantra. "What if it accidentally goes off?" She raised her voice so that Andrea would hear.

Dree wavered a bit. Keith furrowed his brow.

Noting the change, Kara joined in quickly. This will hurt, but it's for your own good, Dree. "What if you shoot some innocent person in the crowd?" She swallowed hard. "Someone who doesn't deserve to die."

Andrea was seriously unstable now. Her eyes moistened, the blank automaton stare gone. "I..."

Keith could feel he was loosing her. "Remember what we said? This world is an awful place. People are forever maiming, destroying, burning---"

The quaver vanished as Keith spoke. She spun on him in rage. "And I'm not going to continue the cycle." Andrea's eyes turned black as midnight as she spoke. "Get out. Out of my mind. Out of my sight. Out of my life." She shook for a moment as Keith backed off into another group of people. When he was out of view, she collapsed in a sweaty, teary mess.

"You did it. It's over now." Jess gathered Dree up in a hug.

Kara bent down and rubbed Dree's heaving back.

Onstage, Paul's band had struck up the encore-- a medley of tunes the Beatles had originally recorded on the Abbey Road album. Fortunately, no one onstage had noticed what had nearly happened in the audience. "Once there was a way... to get back homeward... once there was a way to get back home... sleep, pretty darling... do not cry..."

* * * * *

John hadn't moved from his solitary location since the girls had left him what felt like an hour ago. He was enjoying himself, but also thinking hard....

"After I'm gone, I don't care what happens." John seemed to remember saying once. But was that really true? He remembered what it was like to be dead and no longer a part of the physical world. He had been at rest, but he still checked up on his friends- cheering their triumphs and crying for their heartbreaks. Yes, he cared.

Now that he was among the living, he was an active participant once more. The time for sitting and watching the game play out below him was over. Frankly, the more he considered things, the more he realized he wanted to get in the swing of things again. He felt the disembodied voice that had originally driven him from the safety of Kara's shed and into public was pulling him again. So that was yer plan. Goad me inta it again. He shook his head. Alright. Ya win. Ya got me wantin' it now. Time to deal with the fractured pieces of the past left behind, and reclaim his friends. Startin' with that man out there.

"Unique situation, this. Not like there's a support group out there Ah can talk to 'bout post mortem relations." He joked with himself as he watched Macca wrap up his curtain call. Soon Paul would be offstage, and John resolved to be waiting for him in the wings. Right 'ere.

Paul hefted his guitar over his head in traditional fashion. "Good night, New York!!"

Perhaps Ah'd best meet 'im in 'is dressin' room-- John amended his previous thought as he anxiously shifted his weight. Paul drew closer, now halfway across the stage. Or.. even in the parkin' garage.. Macca was three quarters of the way to John's side of the stage. Perhaps a letter in the mail...

* * * * *

So many people, so few bullets.

Kara heard the voice in her head and her eyes grew wide in shock.

Keith's eyes darted from the redhead's back, to the other girl, to Andrea herself, to several people in the crowd, to Paul McCartney... So many people.. hope they don't get in the way...

* * * * *

Before John could change his mind for a fourth time, a sound rang out through the theater. His brain exploded in a thousand images of that cold December night. His back spasmed slightly in a phantom pain. He knew that sound anywhere.

Without taking a moment to consider his own safety, John tossed his hat and jacket aside, leaping for the people onstage. "GET DOWN!!" He bellowed as a second bullet whipped through the air. He collided with Paul, dragging him to the stage floor in a heap.

* * * * *

In the VIP guest booth, tour roadies were in motion the moment they heard a gun go off. Each had an assignment in a contingency plan they had hoped they'd never have to use. Some were phoning security, others getting in place to evacuate the facility, and even more simply set on standby in case there was more than one lunatic in the audience. After September 11th, they needed spare people at large venues like this one. They seemed pointless, but at a moment's notice, a free person could be pulled to help most anywhere---

"Where's Paul?" One of the operators suddenly exclaimed with panic.

Two heads whipped around as they heard the question. The two men, silent until now, turned to one another. They were positioned in the very back of the room, moved to a more secure location by officers"Ya don't think---"

"Paulie made it. Shit, he had to! There's no way this could 'appen again." The second man answered the first's question, pausing only long enough to tie his hair shoulder-length gray hair back before flying into motion. "Keep yer 'ead, Geo."

* * * * *

Jess felt a ripple of panic spread rapidly through the crowd. As the bullets flew overhead, she heard a blood-curdling scream tear through the air, far louder than any other noise in the room. And it was close by---

"DAMNIT! WHO'S BEEN SHOT?!" Kara readjusted her hold on Andrea.

* * * * *

Pushing on through the crowd, Andrea slung between them, Jess and Kara eventually made it backstage. Neither had medical training, but they could tell that she had been grazed by the bullet. She was bleeding profusely from the side of her head when they laid her gently on the ground.

"Oh God." Kara gulped, looking more than a little pale.

Jess shook her head emphatically. "Don't even tell me you get queasy at the sight of blood."

"Okay, I won't tell you, but---"

"Just watch her while I go get Joe." Jess indicated a frantic man nearby with a similarly colored ID badge. "He's my supervisor. He'll call an ambulance."

"God.. this isn't happening..." Kara took several shaky breaths.

"Maybe you should sit down too." Jess noted her friend's appearance. Kara nodded weakly. "Good. Now just sit there until I get back---"

"DAMN!" Kara exploded again suddenly.

"What now?"

"John. Where's John?!"

Jess felt her anxiety level spike, but she knew better than to let her emotions take over, instead trying to figure things out logically. "He's fine. He wasn't onstage when the gun went off."

"W-what if that bullet--"

"Kar, don't even think like that!"

Kara wasn't listening by that point, however. "What if we brought him back into this world just to get him killed all over again... and in the same way?!!"

Frustrated, Jess reached out and grabbed her friend by the arms. "Get a grip!" She shook her, hands dug in firmly. "Getting hysterical isn't going to help." Jess knew how to bait Kara out of her irrational behavior. "I thought you were stronger than this, huh?! Big front just a cover for being a baby?"

"Never!!" The redhead yelled back. Licking her lips, Kara paused. "Alright. Okay. Go. Find some help. I just... I couldn't help..."

"I know, buddy. I know." Jess headed over to Joe. This is the worst day of my life.

* * * * *

John waited what felt like an eternity before stirring from his shielding position over Paul's body. His eyes went immediately to three bullet holes in the backdrop directly behind them. "Shit that was close." John panted, realizing that the shots must have sailed right over their heads.

The lights onstage had been killed by the roadies, something John was unspeakably grateful for. He could get Paul offstage without being noticed. Paul was the one who needed the attention right now, not him.

"'Old on, Paulie." John shouldered his pal's bulk and carried him off, waving off other roadies with a flash of his ID badge. Let's see if they still do things thah same way. "Personal security!" He barked. "One side, please."

* * * * *

"C'mon mate. Wake up." A voice echoed down from somewhere above Paul's head.

Reaching his hand up, Paul gingerly touched a bump rapidly growing on his skull. "Me 'ead.."

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Ah guess that archway hung a good deal lower than I thought it would." A man, who Paul took to be one of the many stagehands, chuckled. "But it adds character. Rough an' tumble.. stuff like that." He sighed. "But at least yer in one piece still. Things were a bit dodgy there for a moment or two.

Paul's vision was blurry, thoughts mostly on the soreness of his skull. He rubbed his eyes to clear them, slowly adjusting to the dim lights. Trying to regain his feet, Paul was grateful that the stagehand had stayed with him. "Thanks. Remind me ta raise yer pay, eh?"

The man only laughed at this. "Yer gonna start payin' me, Macca?"

That voice. It can't be-- not twice in one day--- Paul struggled to his feet, pushing up and off the pavement.

"Whoa. Ease up a bit, there. No rushin'." The man guided Paul over to a side room. "Come 'ead." He sat Paul down in the first chair he saw. A hand dropped in front of Paul's face, which he was about to brush away when the voice insisted:

"'Ow many fingers?"

"Four." Paul felt a bit uneasy. That voice...

The light bulb-surrounded mirror illuminated suddenly. "Good. At least yer brain didn't get squashed any."

Paul was still once more trying to adjust to the even brighter lighting when he sensed the man had settled down in the chair next to him. Through blurry eyes, he could see that they were in front of the mirror. Squinting, Paul could make out bits of his rescuer... graying hair... glasses... Now Ah'm really imaginin' things. "Who-- Who are you?"

The man turned his chair to the side, his face now in profile in the mirror. Out of the corner of his eye, Paul caught the man sliding his wire-rimmed glasses down his nose.

"It's only me."

Blinking once... twice... Paul found his breath was gone. "John?" He touched his friend's hand, half expecting to pass straight through it as he might a cloud, or a fading mirage in the morning light. "It can't... But Ah'd know you anywhere..." He fumbled for words.

John felt his own pulse increase. Having Paul look at him now... and truly recognize him... all that nervous energy had come straight back to him. But he wasn't going to betray his true feelings. Staying aloof, he gave Paul a crooked smile. "Ah'll give ya a little more time ta figure out whether yer gonna believe me or not. Want a coffee? Ah passed this nice little spot down the road a ways---"

"No. It 'as ta be you." Paul's words choked up in his throat so it was almost painful to speak. "Only you could save a guy's life an' still manage," he smiled for the first time, "ta look like the smuggest bastard on the face of the Earth."

"Gee, thanks Macca." John rolled his eyes. "Make a dead guy feel right at 'ome."

"Dead? Are ya a ghost or somethin'?"

"Recoverin', Ah suppose ya could say." John amended with a goonish grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He placed a hand on his heart as if saying the pledge, "Hello. My name is John Lennon, an' Ah'm a recoverin' cadaver."

Paul shook his head. "If Ah 'ad any doubts 'bout ya bein' who ya say ya are, they're gone now. Still 'ave that morbid sense of humor, I see."

"Never been without it." John smirked. "Anyroad, we should get goin' ta---"

"John." Paul said, still trying to get everything to make sense in his head. "But you were dead. They brought you to the coroner's. Ah was at the funeral an' Ah saw--- 'Ow is this possible?"

"Now that is an interestin' tale."

* * * * *

The waiting room smelled of coffee and cigarettes, and rather strongly at that. Jess made a face, turning from the window to reveal her scrunched-up nose to Kara. "It smells like a bong in here. Or like something died."

"Could be worse. Could smell like something died in a bong." Kara replied.

Jess sighed and flopped down in a chair. "Ha. Ha."

"At least the two of ya are keepin' yer spirits up, Ah see." John's voice was instantly recognizable to Kara. She shot straight up out her chair, overcome with relief.

"Thank God you're alright." Kara's heart raced as she embraced him in an awkward hug. "I thought--"

"What? That Ah 'adn't learned from the first time an' would be fool enough to let myself get shot a twice?" John chortled. "Not bloody likely."

Another voice came from the doorway. "Naw, Johnny's just too quick for 'em." Paul unwound the long woolen scarf from around his head that he had used to for a disguise. His face was flushed, and, Jess noticed, he seemed mentally, to be only partly there.

Probably still in shock. Give him time to get over it and he should be alright.

"Paul McCartney!" Kara said in surprise. "I didn't expect to see... what I mean is, I... see, I assumed..."

"She always this articulate, mate?" Paul joked.

"What, this? Pff. Nothin'. Shoulda seen thah look on 'er face when Ah popped inta 'er garage outta thin air."

Kara shot him a warning look.

Paul picked up on her discomfort and quickly explained that John had told him everything. The magic, the runaway that necessitated a road trip, "It's not yer fault." He concluded.

"So everyone keeps telling me."

* * * * *

Jess had sat back for a bit, feeling rather like a Smith at a Brown family reunion. After a bit, she decided to let them have some privacy and stepped out into the hallway to wait for the doctor to send word on Andrea. Kara was the one who had been through everything with John. She had more right to talk with the guys. Jess knew she had just been in the right place at the right time.

To pass the time, she began examining the floor, ceiling, walls.. not to mention scoping out which hot male interns looked particularly good in hospital scrubs. She'd done a rather thorough job of loosing track of time when Paul walked up beside her.

"Any news?" He cocked his head and waved his hand in front of her face when she didn't respond. "'Ello in there?"

Jess started with a surprise.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"That that Jeremy intern guy has got to call me." Jess spoke dreamily before realizing exactly what she had said. "I..! I mean.."

Paul laughed heartily. "What? You don't 'ave a boyfriend already?" After a pause, he added, "Or girlfriend, if that's your thing."

Jess glared at him.

"Okay, okay. Just checkin'. All Ah was thinkin' was that a pretty girl like you---"

"-- has been interning here in the city for the past few months." Jess explained. "Hense, time for guys has been at a premium. Not to mention my friends, my volunteer work... and our band..."

"You 'ave a band?"

"Kara, Andrea, our mutual pal Renee and I. Nothing really special." Jess smiled as her mind traveled back a year. "Actually began our 'performing' career at a string of Karaoke bars in middle school."

Settling down on a bench lining the hallway, Paul motioned for Jess to join him. "When did ya figure ya could actually play together?"

"Backup tracks on the Karaoke machine quit one night and a bunch of drunks still wanted to sing. Kara and I had brought our guitars along... and the rest is history."

Paul shared in a laugh as Jess explained a little bit more about their band's "Full Scale Touring Schedule" which included a Bah Mitzvah, two birthday parties, and the delivery room-- the last one being for the day Jess' mother had given birth to her baby brother, now two years old, named Jackson. They'd played the baby out, to the delight of the doctor and nurses in the room. For her part, Jess was rather embarrassed by the memory. "I want to be a real band, though. Not just strumming on someone's patio singing 'Happy Birthday' or perched on a bar stool having some lonely drunk drool on my arm."

"At least ya keep yerselves busy. Nothin' ta be ashamed of. Ya should 'ear some of the places the Quarrymen used ta play--- " He smiled and was about to launch into his stories of the pre-Beatle days, when a hospital staffer approached. Jess figured the man to be a fan who had discovered the undercover Beatle and now hoped for an autograph-- an assumption which seemed supported by the pad and pen he carried with him. However, when Paul didn't wave the man off, and instead excused himself to take the "fan" aside, Jess was genuinely confused.

It took several minutes of heated discussion before Paul dismissed the man and returned to Jess' side on the bench.

"I heard you were good with your fans, but that was--" Jess began.

"-- my personal security officer."

Her eyes went wide with surprise. "Whoa. Wouldn't have guessed. You aren't with the MIB, by any chance, are you?"

Paul smiled. "It's a Beatle family secret. Ever since John died-- well, the first time--"

Jess laughed. That joke's never going to get old...

He gave her a strange look before continuing. "Anyroad. On the day John was killed, everyone who was close to John was assigned a small group of disguised security guards. They blend in with the environment, but are in watch just in case another--"

"-- person with a gun.." Jess trailed off quietly. She felt odd suddenly. Prying into sensitive ground wasn't usually her style. Still, she had to ask, "All three of you?"

"Yep." Paul sighed. "An' now that Ah've told ya all this..."

"You have to zap me with your little pen device so I'll forget it all?"

More laughter. He pulled out a ball-point and wagged it at her. "How did you know what Ah was doin'?! Must erase everythin' right now---"

Jess waved her hand in the fashion of a surrender flag, laughing until she was nearly breathless. "Not a peep. I swear!"

"Good. Ah didn't want ta 'ave ta get rough." Paul buffed the pen on his shirt and tucked it away once more.

Rolling her eyes, Jess stifled her laughter and shook her head.

Growing serious once more, Paul explained, "Someone's lookin' for me, Ah've been told. Two somebody's actually." Indicating the man he had just spoken with, he continued. "Ben over there wants to show me inta a visitor's room. Said my quick exit tonight really worried these blokes."

"Fans?"

"Certainly not." Paul proclaimed quickly, then, remembering something, amended, "Or, at least Ah doubt it. The rare fan makes it past the security boys. Let alone sets up a private meetin'."

"So, who, then?"

"That's what Ah was 'opin' ya could 'elp me figure out, bird." He offered his arm to Jess, which she took with a slight blush.

You're really acting like an idiot now... She chuckled. Stop it with the, 'Ooo! Paul McCartney's holding my arm!' He's-- Paul glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and gave her a mischievous grin. Pretty damn sexy for a 60 year old almost married man. No wonder Heather fell for him... She began to muse as they headed for a door marked:

HIGH SECURITY. NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT PERMIT.

So who are we going to see, anyway?