REVIVAL
by Kelonzi

Kara started awake, instantly hit with the sinking feeling of extreme guilt over leaving John on his own. He probably kept himself entertained... TV... magazines... But still. She reeked of being lousy company. A quick glance at her watch didn't make the guilt go away either. It was 4:30 in the morning. She seemed to remember the clock reading something like 2am prior her impromptu nap.

"Feelin' better?" John queried, shooting her an amused glance from behind his reading material.

"What's so funny?"

He bit his lip and pointed to her chin, fighting off a fit of laughter.

Kara swiped the sleeve of her fleece across her face, flustered.

"Very discreet." John gave up the containment, letting his laughter escape. "Minimal drool."

"Regular comedian." Kara mumbled as she reached for her shoulder bag, searching it quickly for her hand mirror. "Just tell me I didn't snore."

John opted to keep his mouth sealed on that one. Kara rolled her eyes. They sat in silence for a bit, John reading, Kara flipping through the TV channels. After scrolling by what felt like the dozenth infomercial, a small yawn managed to escape Kara's mouth. John glanced up from his reading briefly.

"What? Like you're not tired."

"Actually, Ah'm not."

"Oh right. Hamburg nights were good training, huh? Do you have a stash of Preludin sitting around here that I don't know about?"

John didn't answer. Gee. Didn't mean for that to be a stumper. She anxiously returned to the remote. Maybe she did want that singing Cuckoo Clock after all---

"Very good. Ya read about that too?" He spoke after a long moment.

Kara jumped a bit. "What? I haven't read anything the whole time we've been here---" She reached once more into her bag. The same one she had been unsuccessful in retrieving the mirror from before. "In fact, the only book I have is..." She stopped. "Where is it? I know I brought it with me."

"Brought what?" John clapped his book shut in a flash.

"You know... 'the' book."

He looked at her and mouthed 'The Bible'?

"No! The other one! The one you... you know... appeared out of. I know I brought it with me." Kara continued her search, moving on to the carpeted floor under her chair now.

John glanced down into his lap and read the letters on the cover of his book with disdain. 'Lennon'... as if the bastard knew a thing about me... Did manage ta get all that post-mortem stuff down, though. He set his jaw angrily. "Every last bit of it."

Kara sat up, almost conking her head on the coffee table. "What?"

* * * * *

Good tile. Evenly spaced. Grouted well. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that... Oh for Christ's sake. It's linoleum, you boob. Jess sighed and sat back in her chair. A testament to her boredom level. She'd spent the last ten minutes wrapping her mind around the craftsmanship of the hospital architects. Geeze. You need to get a boyfriend. Or at least a halfway decent hobby.

Paul had been in that room for a while. She shook her head when she remembered that she'd actually thought he had wanted her to accompany him into the room. No, he'd just needed her to keep watch. Gave her a brief story to tell if any inquiring minds approached the door. When she'd asked why he didn't just have Ben or one his paid workers sit watch, Paul had said something about her being prettier than any of them.

Schmoozer. She sighed. And what's worse? You fell for it. Now what are you doing? Sitting and staring at the floor. Well, I'm not standing for this anymore! No more sitting around and staring at the floor! Jess glanced up. Yep. Time to focus on the lighting fixtures for a bit.

"Hate to break up your Fun Fest, but Ah'm assumin' you're Jessica Shaw?" A voice called her back from her internal monologue.

Jess sighed, prepared with Paul's story, and looked up. "Who's ask--- Hey there." Her voice squeaked with surprise.

"Paul thought maybe ya wanted ta come in, now."

Surprised and at a loss for words, Jess nodded numbly and followed.

* * * * *

John smirked. "S'nice ta 'ear what 'appens after a bloke is dead. Ah read about the goin's on of the world, but not---" He held up Kara's book and she felt her blood run cold.

Just what had he read? "John, I didn't mean for you to see that. I knew it would be--"

"What? Shockin'? Painful?" John stood up, gesturing wildly with his arms. "That in my 'fragile' and 'emotional' state Ah wouldn't be able ta 'andle readin' 'bout the behavior of people after I died?!"

Okay. This would be a step backwards. Definitely the wrong way. "John.." Kara tried to speak, only to find herself still fumbling for the right words.

"The AUCTIONIN' OFF of my every last possession down to the soddin' Kleenex I used ta wipe my ass with?!"

Kara got to her feet, half expecting the waiting room door to fly open at any moment to reveal a panicked nurse. This was getting out of hand.

"How there are people who WORSHIP me?! Fuckin' me! Ah'm not a god!"

"I know..."

He closed his eyes and placed a hand across them, as if that would make the world go away. "An' ta think that Ah almost wanted back inta this crazed world! People wouldn't see me as a guy anymore. NO! They'd see it as the resurrection of Christ!" For a man who never cried in public if it could be avoided, John appeared to be on the verge of a serious case of the water works.

"Listen..."

"No! You listen!... An' answer me this: Does the message even come across? The love an' peace? Or is it all like hymns played at bloody church?"

She stared down at her hands. If you'd only let me get in more than two words, I'd try to explain--- But he wasn't talking now. Kara glanced up again. He was sitting once more. Not crying. Not dry eyed either. "People can be idiots, John. But there are those who hear." A thought hit her suddenly. Well, if he won't listen to my words, maybe I could at least show him something. "Come with me."

"Where---?"

"Central Park. It's nearly sunrise. So we should be alright. Just... cover your face with something."

"So my adorin' fans don't think they've seen a ghost?"

Kara rolled her eyes. "Just come on. Please."

* * * * *

Jess walked out of the room, eyes wide as saucers. Paul was close behind when they saw John and Kara approaching. "Hey you two! We wanted to show you something."

"Later." John spat, annoyed at being stopped. Wherever they were going, he wanted to get it over with and now. It seemed like a dumb idea anyway, so no use in prolonging this idiocy.

Paul seemed to sense something was wrong immediately. He'd been around John so long that he just knew. He also knew he wasn't going to get a word out of the brooding guitarist, so he turned to Kara for an explanation.

"We're going out. Short trip. We'll be careful." Kara supplied.

Ah don't like this. Not one bit. 'Aven't even gotten ta say 'alf of what Ah want ta John an' they're already packin' up. Not ta mention--- His thoughts briefly touched on the people waiting back in the conference lounge. "Alright. But take someone with ya. Ben or Kyle." He pointed to two men sitting near a nursing station nearby, trying to blend in with the scenery, but secretly eyeing the conversation very carefully.

"Fine. Whatever." John walked out the door. "Ah'll get us a cab, Kar!" He called over the swoosh of the automatic door.

Kara gave them both an apologetic look. "Give us an hour or so. He needs the freedom. Cooped up too long and.. and other things." She handed her 'Lennon' book over to Jess with a sad look on her face.

"Oh God. Kara, you didn't---"

"I didn't. He did." Kara wrapped a scarf around her neck and walked off.

* * * * *

They caught a bus. Not only was it murder to try and grab a taxi so close to the hospital, but then there would be the questions of where a young eighteen year old and a guy old enough to be her grandfather, both clearly not related, were going together. Emerging from the city's excuse for mass transportation, Kara and John found themselves smack in the middle of the park. It was sunrise, casting everything in a red-orange tint.

Beautiful. Kara sighed and started walking forward to the place she had been several times throughout her life.

John, however, was clearly not enjoying the excursion. The second he stepped from the bus, he stepped straight in--- "Aw crap!"

Kara turned and walked back over. Examining John's foot, she nodded, "Yep. Looks like it to me."

"Stop bein' funny an' 'elp me clean this off." Kara brought him over to a relatively clean patch of grass and he dragged his foot around for a bit. "So where is this place you were prattlin' about the whole bleedin' way down 'ere?"

"We're close. Promise."

John jammed his hands into his pockets and walked along after her. They didn't say much. John's choice. However, as minutes stretched on, John slowly found himself taking in the scenery around him. No matter how much he had convinced himself that this trip was making him miserable, he had to admit---- it was nice. Same place that it had been before he died, but with a bit more to it. It might have just been the time of day, but... "It's nice." He said quietly.

Kara thought she would go into shock. John had actually spoken. "So, does this mean you're done brooding?"
He glared. "Don't ruin the mood, eh?" But he wasn't mad anymore. Curious was more like it. "Ah kinda missed this place. Used ta walk it all the time."

"Bet you never saw this, though." Kara stopped in the middle of the road after a moment.

"What 'this'?"

Kara pointed to the ground below their feet.

Glancing down, John instantly was plunged into memories.

"No, John. Come now. You're finished. Time to rest."

Hopping off his bike, he dropped it to the ground with a crash. "Okay, mum." He felt sad as he left the broken toy behind, but shrugged it off. Julia Lennon's arms were warm and inviting, and he ran to her like child. She enfolded him in her arms.

"Oh baby... it's been hard... but I promise you, it's over now." She let him go for a moment and began laying out their picnic lunch.

As if he could now control what was in his mind, he pulled aside the picnic cloth to see what was under it.

"Mum? What's this?" He pointed to a stone mosaic under their blanket.

Julia smiled that wonderful, comforting smile of her's. "Honey, this is Strawberry----"

"--- Fields." John stared down at the simple one-word salute. 'IMAGINE'. "God." He looked up.

Playing historian for a brief moment, Kara explained. "They made this after you died. Dedicated it on March 21st, 1984."

"Alter to a fallen God?" John couldn't help but act a tad cynical. He didn't feel bitter, really.... but it was hard to accept all of this right off. Staying skeptical would keep him from being disappointed later.

"Memorial..... Memorial, John." Kara corrected. "You said yourself the message was what mattered... that no one ever forgot what you tried to do. That's what's here.. not a statue to some moptop slave of touring..."

John's eyes flitted to the ground again. Someone had left flowers and a folded piece of notepaper. He opened it with a sly grin. "Secret admirer, this."

Kara chuckled. "As you so adamantly point out time and again.... they think you're dead. Would have to be one strange girl...."

"Groovy." A smile spread across John's face.

"So who is this mystery girl?"

He handed the paper over for her to read. Kara, expecting a litany of sweet nothings, cocked her head with confusion as she read:

Hey Boogie Dood --
Thanks for the peace of mind to love my feesh-bowl.
Standing Underall,
Less Honorable Captain Jockey Shorts

"Okay. Yeah. This is definitely one of the things that you would like." Kara rolled her eyes. "Now you're going to tell me that there's some hidden meaning in that, right?"

"Actually.. it's rather clever." John replied, pulling a pen from his pocket and settling down on the ground. As he wrote a few notes around the scrawled handwriting, Kara stood back and shook her head.

"What's wrong now?"

"Nothing wrong. Just considering what a sight this is. John Lennon sitting atop his own memorial. I should have a camera."

"No, you bloody well shouldn't." He glanced up from his work.

"Fine. Fine."

"Anyroad, come look at this." He pointed to the writing. "Peace.... love.... Standin' Under... flip it an' it's Understandin'." John smiled triumphantly. "Peace, love an' understandin'!"

Kara smiled. She saw it. Thought it was a little odd, but it made sense. "And here I was thinking whoever wrote that was just a major turd. Thought he was being cute or whatever."

John laughed. Hard. "Major Turd? Now there's a name that begs ta 'ave a song written about it." He flipped the paper and began scrawling a song down, right on the spot, about Third Turd Major Willie May Wander.

"You're sick." Kara grinned. "Do I get creative credit?"

* * * * *

The two returned to the hospital, out of breath and windblown. Jess was standing in wait with Paul when they returned. "Geeze... didn't move from that spot for two hours? I have to hand it to you guys. Don't your legs hurt?"

Jess rolled her eyes. "Right. Standing here. No moving. Like I had nothing better to do with my time---"

"That's sad. Ya know, ya should get a hobby." John said as he rushed over to the nearest chair and began writing in earnest. He wanted to get every last bit of his song down before he forgot any of it.

"What's gotten inta you, then?" Paul asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Song, Paulie. Ya remember when we used ta write 'em, doncha?"

Paul nodded slowly. Why can't Ah warm up ta 'im? Carry on like best mates again? The thought randomly flitted across his mind. While John had been away, he'd had time to think about it. They talked, sure. But he hadn't had time to work things through. He also figured it would just take time to warm up to the idea of John being alive again. An' 'avin' ta carry on like 'e's still dead until we can figure out 'ow ta break it ta the public. He cleared his throat. "We 'ave guests waitin'. You two ready now?"

"Alright." John sighed and pocketed his paper and pen. "Guess this bit about the Turd Major an' 'is first mate Jocky Shorts will just 'aveta wait then." He breezed by, leaving Paul to scratch his head.

"Turd Maj---" Paul mused for a moment before realizing where John was heading. "Wait up! Let me go in first." He overtook John and slid through the door just in front of him.

John looked amused by this. "Good Ol' Paulie. Always 'ad ta be the first for everythin'. Even gettin' laid."

Jess shook her head. "Have you ever been PC once in your life?"

"Not so as I can remember."

The remaining group of three walked in, the door closing quickly behind them. The lights were dim, a situation quickly rectified by Paul, who was leaning against the wall nearest the door. As the lights came up, Kara and John's jaws dropped.

Kara could have sworn her heart stopped. There, sitting in the middle of the room were both George Harrison and Ringo Starr. She was absolutely speechless.

John, however, wasn't. "SHIT!"

* * * * *

"Is this yer surprise, Paul?!" George asked, never once taking his eyes off of the impossible that was, nonetheless, standing right in front of him. "Ah was expectin' a T-Shirt from the tour... or even yer fiancé.. not..."

"Good ta see you too, Geo." John decided he was almost enjoying this in a bizarre way. He'd seen so many different reactions to his new lease on life, that he could have kept an expression scrapbook. Would have been good for a laugh. "An' yes, Ah'm Paul's fiancé.

"Always wondered about you two." Ringo mumbled in shock, still making a half stab at a joke.

"But yer---" George began.

"Dead?" John supplied. "Crikey. That's all anyone says to me anymore. Here. Let's make this simple. That there's Kara--" John pointed to the redhead sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner with Jess, "Her pal Andrea did this spell. It brought me back. End of story."

George looked troubled. "Magic."

"Look, Ah'm not gonna question. Ah'm 'ere, aren't Ah?"

"Yes, ya are at that, but---" George began. How young is this kid who's messin' with dark powers anyway? Whoever she was, she needed help. He'd met people dabbling with the darkest magic they could. It was usually for one of two reasons: one, they just liked the feeling it gave them-- being drunk with power-- or two, they were hurting and reaching out for anything that made them feel important again.

"But what? Look, it's time for me ta ask the questions." John brushed George's dwelling on Andrea aside. "What are you two doin' in town?"

"Originally ta see Paul windin' down 'is tour." Ringo took the lead when he realized George was too lost in thought to answer. "Congratulate 'im. But when a maniac with a gun showed up an' we 'ad no idea who'd been shot---"

"All we were able ta find out was that Paul was 'ere in the hospital." George closed his eyes briefly, reliving those terrifying minutes when they didn't even know that. For a while it was looking as if fate had reared it's head and claimed a second of his friends in the same cruel way it had before. "John. Even if it's been twenty one years, ya don't forgot what we went through that December. The worst was the waitin'. We weren't all 'ere in New York when ya died. It took a few days ta get inta town. Ringo an' Ah weren't gonna go through it again. We wanted ta be right 'ere just in case, ya know?"

John nodded his head. Whew. This was awkward as hell.

"Not knowin' what ta think we came 'ere an'---" Ringo motioned at the door, then at John, then back at the door, clearly trying to come up with the proper words for what he had experienced. "Ah think Ah need ta sit down."

"Ah think we all do." Paul motioned to the lounge chairs. "Now that everythin's somewhat normal again, we can talk without fear of---"

The room telephone buzzed. Jess, being closest, picked it up. "Hello?.... God.... Alright. Thanks, Renee. We'll be right there." She motioned for Kara to get her things together.

Four sets of eyes turned in the girls' direction. Each held the same question.

"It's Andrea. She's not doing so well." Jess turned back to the phone, making a show of putting it back. No matter how hard she was trying to cover, though, everyone knew she was trying not to break down.

Ah tried that myself. Paul's heart went out to the girls. It felt wrong, celebrating a reunion with his mates while those girls were going through hell. "Maybe Ah should go along." He started to say, but Kara and Jess were out the door before he could complete the thought.

* * * * *

Two nurses smiled kindly to Renee as they checked Andrea's vitals. "You're family?"

Renee thought about that. "Virtually. Friends for a long time."

"Ah." The woman-- Ms. Gallop, according to the name tag-- placed a hand on Renee's shoulder. It felt odd. A person she didn't know trying to offer comfort. It was a sweet gesture, but it struck Renee that these women probably spent all day going through this sort of thing. Another day on the job, isn't it? She sighed. Add one more item to the 'Reasons I Don't Want to Be a Nurse' list. I'd probably feel overwhelmed. All the time.

A knock came at the door. Renee finished off the paragraph she was on in the most recent issue of Rolling Stone and looked up. "Hey guys."

The three girls met in a long embrace. It was going to be a long day. They had so much to talk about.

* * * * *

The four men had so much to talk about. Twenty years of backlogged stories, anecdotes, and more. They sat in a circle around one of the hospital's coffee tables outside the cafeteria. John kept his back to the main hallway to avoid questioning, but they were definitely the object of some attention.

"Ah don't think Ah've felt this closed in since the tourin' America." George shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Eh, s'not so bad." Paul shrugged.

"Well, ta you Mr. Drivin' USA---" John chuckled. "This must be old hat. Why do ya still do this to yerself? Run around, 'avin' people throwin' things at ya? Screamin' yer name."

Paul smiled, putting a faux-posh air in his voice. "The fans, Johnny darlin'. My public just can't get enough." All four laughed. "But that's a good point. Ya know they still throw the skivvies--"

"Right." Ringo rolled his eyes. "Only they aren't panties anymore... they're Depends."

"'Ey!" Paul tossed a crumpled up napkin at Ringo, who swatted it away quickly.

Conversation stayed fairly light for quite some time. There were heavier issues to talk over, but no one wanted to be the guy to bring it up. At least, until...

"Aren't you Paul McCartney?" A girl cocked her head as she exited the cafeteria. Her eyes lit up. "And Ringo Starr! My god!"

"Split." Paul muttered under his breath. "But take it slow or we'll just attract more attention."

This was all too familiar to the other three, nodding that they understood. Casually gathering up their things, Paul led everyone carefully down the hallway. Almost... there.... He hazarded a look over his shoulder. "Oh bloody hell!"

* * * * *

"Your parents are worried..."

"Guessed as much. But I told them Jess and I were going to hang out in the city over Spring Break."

Renee nodded. "And that probably would have worked too, if you guys hadn't made the 11:00 news."

"WHAT?!"

"That's why I came down here as quick as I could." She turned to Jess first. "Your parents were watching when the news broke that there had been a shooting at the Paul McCartney concert. They called Kara's place. Then her parents called my parents and, well---"

"Not what I needed to hear." Kara sighed. "We wanted to bring John back into the world slowly, not in a big media circus. At least tell me the cameras missed him."

"I think so. Or, at least, if anyone did see something, it hasn't made national headlines like I'd think it would have by now."

Jess wandered over to Andrea's bed, a troubled look on her face. "And Dree?"

"Good and bad." Renee offered her chair to Kara, who took it hesitantly. "The good news is that her vitals are normal. In fact, the only problem was a slight case of anemia, but that was just from the loss of blood. She should be fine. Awake and talking to us, even telling us we're idiots for following her here."

Kara took Andrea's pale hand, squeezing slightly, praying that she would feel something back. Nothing. Not even a flutter of the eyelids. "And therein lies the bad news, right?"

"Yeah. She should be awake. But she's not. It's like she's given up." Renee pushed her blonde hair back, tucking it behind her ears. "If only there was a way of talking to her. Getting inside her head."

Jess and Renee made eye contact at the exact same time. They were thinking the exact same thing. George.

"Alright. I'm out of the loop again. Come on, guys. What's up?"

"George could try to get through to her."

"George?"

"Harrison."

Renee looked at both of them as if they had lost their minds. "And he would be where?"

At that moment, the four Beatles ran by the room at a dead sprint.

"Right about there."

* * * * *

Paul slammed the door hard as George rushed through. "That was too bloody close."

"They never stop. An' Ah'm not as fit as Ah used ta be." Ringo doubled over to take a few deep breaths.

George leaned up against the wall. "What is it? 'Bring Your Teen to the Intensive Care Ward' day?"

John laughed. For his part, he had actually enjoyed that. "Stop complainin' you lot. Ah liked takin' a brisk jog."

"That would make one of us." Righting himself again, Ringo looked relatively annoyed.

"Ah'll get on the line an' see if Ben can explain what that was." Paul pulled out his cellphone and his the speed dial.

"Well, aren't you all set there? Must be nice ta 'ave servants at yer every beck an' call."

Paul glared before returning his attention to the cellphone. "Ben... it's Paul. Ah don't know where ya are, but Ah need ta find out what's up. The boys an' Ah just got chased 'alfway across the hospital by a bunch of kids. Call me back when ya get the chance." He hung up and turned to John. "Where do ya get off talkin' like that? Ah just saved yer life."

"Aw it was never in danger." John settled himself down on a countertop. "What's the worst that could 'appen? Sign a few autographs. By comparison with the old days, that was nothin'."

"Like hell it was." Ringo shook his head. "Ah know ya've been under for a while, mate, but that never 'appens anymore. Teens like ta chase after the new boy bands--- those Backstreet Boys and N*SYNC---"

"In sync?" John's eyes went wide. "No wonder thah music these days sucks. Who calls their band that?"

"'Ow would you know 'bout today's music?"

"Kara's house. She 'as a radio. Ah was curious. Can ya blame a bloke?" John patted his pocket, desperately wishing he'd remembered to pick up a pack of ciggies before leaving Central Park.

"Ya 'aven't changed a bit." Paul bristled. "Ya really couldn't care less that we almost got run down?"

John shrugged. "Ah'd rather not dwell on it like you do..... Like ya always do."

"Pardon?"

"Dwell on things. Obsess! Take all the fun outta everythin'!" John smashed his hand down on the countertop. "It was always that... or wantin' ta control everythin'!"

"Ah do not control everythin'!"

"Christ! Can't ya admit yer wrong? Just once?"

Ringo broke in the middle, waving the preverbial white flag. "Blokes! Where is this comin' from? Ah thought the old hatchet was buried a while back!"

"Never was, Richie." George stepped in to offer himself as a physical barrier. "Might 'ave glossed over the stuff, but we never sorted it out." He shook his head. "An' maybe it would 'ave mattered back a decade or so ago." His eyes moved from John to Paul. "You two are incredible. Still can't give it up. We 'ave a second chance 'ere... d'ya wanna give it up again? Throw it away until another one of us is dead? And only then feel sorry?

"John. Ah've been workin' up the courage ta say this all day long." George addressed him. "An' seein' as Ah'll never figure out 'ow ta say it just right, Ah'm gonna come out an' tell it as it comes ta me. The last time Ah talked ta ya, we fought. We didn't mean 'alf of what we said, Ah know. But we lost the chance ta make up. Next Ah 'eard of ya was a phone call in the dead of night sayin' yer funeral was gonna be in a few days." A tear slid down George's cheek, which he rubbed away awkwardly. "Ah made my peace years ago, but Ah always regretted never gettin' ta say it ta yer face. So 'ere Ah go.... Ah'm sorry, John. Can we be mates again?"

It sounded stupid, but John was strangely moved by George's words. "We never stopped, Geo." He turned to Ringo and Paul. "Same thing goes for you two, ya know."

Paul didn't stir from his spot as the other two shook hands with John. The mix of joy and discomfort he had felt since waking up on the floor of Radio City Music Hall had come to a head. Seeing John standing over him had come as a shock to the system as he thought for a brief moment that he had just kicked the big one and was now waiting to be taken off to that great fluorescent bulb in the sky. The very idea had made him mad inexplicably mad, actually. He wasn't ready to go and was prepared to fight it. And to have John, that smug son of a bitch standing over him-- the man who had dragged both of their names through the mud so publicly in the 70's... the Melody Maker letter... that damn 'How Do You Sleep?'-- prepared to carry him off to the pearly gates was more than he could handle. He'd hoped it might have been his mother. Or at least Linda. He figured while fluttering up there plucking on his harp, he might drop in on John, but certainly not be guided---

"Well, Macca?" John's voice once more pervaded his thoughts.

Sighing loudly, Paul realized too that the past was something you hung in the back of your mind like a warning sign. It kept you from screwing up in the same way again. But... but ya don't spend all yer days starin' at that sign either. Ya go mad, ya do that. With this piece of wisdom in mind, he realized too that he couldn't deny how much he'd missed his old partner. Hell, he paid tribute to the man every night onstage! So what's all this ambivalent crap, then? Paul smiled. "What're we waitin' for?" The smile broadened. "A'course, mate. We were doin' alright before ya left us like that. Just 'adn't worked everythin' out yet. Now we can be all "won't ya be my neighbor", right?"

John nodded and took Paul's hand, intent at first at merely shaking on it, but pulling him into a hug at the last second. "Ya know, Ah think Ah kinda love ya..."

"'Ey now! Ah said Ah forgive ya, but Ah don't swing that way!"

"Well, yer not yet married." John teased.

Paul just rolled his eyes and headed for the door. He tried the handle. Tried it again. "Uh, lads? Ah think we're stuck..."