John looked up at George, half-wondering if he'd misheard him in his sleepy state. "You want what?" he said. "You're daft."
"Please?" George smiled eagerly; it was one of those rare times when he really looked like the youngest. "I've never been to the future before!"
"You don't want to go to the future," John reminded him. "I've told you." He pulled the blankets over his head again and closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep. A second later, George pulled them off again.
John blinked at George in an annoyed, won't-you-ever-let-me-go-back-to-sleep kind of way.
"Why don't you go yourself?"
"I can't," George said, as though it was obvious. "It's your tribute what took you there. I haven't got one."
John wondered if that upset George at all. If it did, George didn't let on, but John almost thought it might.
"Come on," George said. "Won't Paul want to see you again? And Ringo - you didn't see him at all last time."
"I can see them here, George," John reminded him. "They're right in the next room - sleeping," he added pointedly. Then, "And why aren't you bothering them about this?"
"I don't think they'll be able to come," George replied seriously. "Because they already are in the future; they can't have two Pauls and two Ringos running around. But we can go, because in that time we're..." Here he stopped, the last, unspoken word hanging heavily in the air.
John sighed. He had a feeling George wasn't going to give him any peace until he'd agreed to this.
"Come on, Johnny," pleaded George. "Don't you want to hear about the good things that'll be happening to us?"
With a groan, John finally threw the bedcovers back. "All right, all right."
A short while later, the two Beatles were walking through Central Park in the darkness, searching for the place where John had fallen. John was half-hoping they wouldn't be able to find it, but the boys managed it without too much difficulty.
"There," George said. "It must be some kind of - portal or something."
"And how do you expect to get in there?" said John skeptically. "Last time it only worked because I fell into it." He had another thought. "If me tribute is a portal, maybe it only works on me." He tried not to sound as though he was scared the portal would take him and not George, and he'd be all alone again in a time when no one knew him.
George didn't seem worried, and if he knew John was, he didn't let on. "No, it won't. We'll both get in. I'll push you, and you'll fall into it again, and you'll pull me down with you."
"You're daft, George."
In answer, George just grinned and pushed John. John lost his footing and tumbled towards the ground, with just enough presence of mind to reach out and pull George with him. For a second, John was sure this was never going to work and he and George would just wind up on the ground looking very silly, but then they were hitting the ground, and everything went black, and next thing John heard was George's voice saying, "So this is 2014."
John opened his eyes. There were the black-and-white tiles again, and when he looked up, everything seemed indefinably different, even with John's blurry eyesight. He was back.
George helped John to his feet. Once again, it was a different time of day than it had been in '64 - the post-midnight darkness had turned to grey predawn light. There were fewer people around John's tribute, and he and George managed to walk away without being bothered by anyone who thought John didn't have the right to lie on it.
George seemed fascinated, looking at everything around him, sometimes approvingly, sometimes not. He enjoyed the future. Why couldn't the tribute have taken him the first time if it was so important for one of them to come here?
"It's like I told you," George said, when John voiced this thought, "it took you for a warning. You didn't like it here; you know we've got to change something."
"How are we supposed to reckon that one out? All I've found out is that we'll have silly arguments," John replied. If he had been brought here to change the future, he couldn't see how he was supposed to do that.
The two Beatles walked on a little more, and soon John realized they were headed for the place where he'd met Paul the day before. "'Ey, let's stop in and see him."
Finding Paul was even easier than yesterday. Across the street from his concert venue was a café, and sitting at a table on its patio having breakfast was Paul. And he wasn't alone. When he saw John and George coming, he suddenly smiled and pointed them out to his companion, a small man with a big nose and a wide grin. This man had very short hair and a little beard, and he wore sunglasses and an earring. But those differences didn't matter. John and George would have known him anywhere.
And the two older Beatles of 2014 got up and ran towards the two younger Beatles of 1964, and Ringo came at John like he was going to hug him, so John, not wanting to go through all that again, scooped up Ringo and swung him around before setting him down. He could still lift him easily, John noticed, and he and Ringo both laughed, Ringo with an I-can't-believe-this-is-happening look on his face. At least he didn't look like he was going to start crying.
Paul, meanwhile, was subjecting George to the same kind of hug he'd given John yesterday. George was standing there with his arms half-raised like he wasn't sure if he should be hugging Paul back or not, and awkwardly patted him on the back a bit.
"John!" Ringo said happily. "Paul told me he'd seen you yesterday - I didn't know if I should believe him..."
John grinned. "Still as light as you were fifty years ago yesterday," he said, by way of greeting. "'Ey, Ringo - do you still remember our first record?"
Ringo frowned. "The one I played drums on or the one I didn't?"
John turned to George, whom Paul had just released, and grinned at him. "He still remembers that in fifty years? He must have been pretty mad about it..."
The foursome sat down at the table Paul and Ringo had been using. For John and George, this was very ordinary, except that their two best mates were so old. For Paul and Ringo, though, this was a special thing that hadn't happened in decades and decades, something they'd thought could never happen again.
And so the four friends talked. George and John reminisced about things that had happened on their tours, things that had happened so long ago for Paul and Ringo that they'd nearly forgotten about them. Ringo and Paul told John and George all kinds of things. They told them about the success the Ed Sullivan gig would bring them, about a life of worldwide fans and fame, just like they had now, only more so. They told them about something called Sergeant Pepper ("What kind of a name is that for an album, Paul?" "No, just wait, John, it's going to be brilliant") and the hippie look the Beatles would adopt later. It turned out there really were good things ahead - a lot of good things. But there was still no denying that sooner or later they were going to destroy it all.
And so Paul and Ringo went into more detail about that, too, about the ends of the Beatles' tours in 1966 (John and George exchanged horrified looks - that gave them only two years to get all the fun in) and about the differences of opinion that had followed. "It had probably been coming on for a while, but we noticed it just after we'd all got back from India," Paul explained.
"I didn't like it in India," Ringo put in. "I don't care how much you want to go there, George."
George was confused. "I don't want to go to India."
Paul looked confused, then thoughtful. "He hasn't gotten into all of that yet, has he?"
"No," Ringo remembered, "that was after Help!, and I don't think they've done A Hard Day's Night yet..."
"What?" said John and George.
Ringo grinned. "I'm not ruining all the surprises for you. You're going to love it."
"Well, then he can't be into India yet," Paul concluded. "He hasn't even met Pattie."
"Who's this Pattie when she's at home?" George perked up. "Is she pretty?"
Paul and Ringo laughed a little. "Wait for her, George! We're not giving away everything!"
"Yeah, and speaking of girls," John put in, "what about this wife of mine - the one you said broke us up?"
Paul sighed. "She didn't, really, I told you. It was just - you were all obsessed with her, and we didn't understand, and she wanted you to record these daft things with her instead of our music."
"She's not as bad as all that," Ringo spoke up. "She's rather nice, really."
"Yeah," Paul nodded, "she is now, only then..."
"Only what?" John couldn't understand this piece of the puzzle. "How'd I fall for a girl who you could think was splittin' us up?"
"Well, that's what we used to ask ourselves," Paul said.
"Maybe she looked like - Brigitte Bardot or somebody," George suggested.
"Yoko?" Ringo laughed. "I don't think that was it."
The conversation turned to other things then, but John was still thinking. From what he'd heard, most of the things that would break them up later seemed so easily avoided - like getting Brian Epstein to keep a closer eye on his health, for instance. But this whole thing about Yoko puzzled him. He'd heard many interesting things about her, the woman he would apparently someday marry, and they didn't all seem to fit together. And he didn't think it was his mates who could help him understand. They hadn't understood it themselves.
John stood up. "All right, it's been fun," he said, "but me and George have got things to do now."
It was the same as yesterday. "You're leaving?" Paul's eyes got sad.
"Don't start cryin' again, Paul," said John.
"What d'you expect?" Paul demanded. "I haven't seen you in thirty-three years! Can't you two just stay here with us?" he added hopefully.
George frowned. "I don't think we can," he said seriously. "I don't know what'd happen to us if we did that. We'd disappear from '64 and then we might disappear altogether."
"How did you get to know so much about this, George?" demanded John.
"It'll be all them mystic things he likes," Ringo guessed. "You'll see when he gets into that."
"Well, there you are, Paul," John said. "We can't disappear forever and that. And we want to go back to the sixties. Maybe we could take you two with us..."
But he wasn't at all surprised when George shook his head. "We can't," he said. "It's like I told you before, John. We can't have two of them running around the place."
"Can't you at least stay until after we do the Ed Sullivan Show tribute?" asked Ringo hopefully. "It'd be gear, the four of us doin' it together..."
"Wouldn't work, son." John remembered something from his last trip to the future, something which he suddenly realized the meaning of. "We don't show up on camera here. On account that we don't belong here or whatever it is George says."
George looked unsurprised. Ringo and Paul looked very upset.
The foursome exchanged lingering goodbyes. "Cheer up," John told his two much-older mates as he did. "We'll fix things up in our time, and then we'll still be here in yours. That's a promise."
"Please?" George smiled eagerly; it was one of those rare times when he really looked like the youngest. "I've never been to the future before!"
"You don't want to go to the future," John reminded him. "I've told you." He pulled the blankets over his head again and closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep. A second later, George pulled them off again.
John blinked at George in an annoyed, won't-you-ever-let-me-go-back-to-sleep kind of way.
"Why don't you go yourself?"
"I can't," George said, as though it was obvious. "It's your tribute what took you there. I haven't got one."
John wondered if that upset George at all. If it did, George didn't let on, but John almost thought it might.
"Come on," George said. "Won't Paul want to see you again? And Ringo - you didn't see him at all last time."
"I can see them here, George," John reminded him. "They're right in the next room - sleeping," he added pointedly. Then, "And why aren't you bothering them about this?"
"I don't think they'll be able to come," George replied seriously. "Because they already are in the future; they can't have two Pauls and two Ringos running around. But we can go, because in that time we're..." Here he stopped, the last, unspoken word hanging heavily in the air.
John sighed. He had a feeling George wasn't going to give him any peace until he'd agreed to this.
"Come on, Johnny," pleaded George. "Don't you want to hear about the good things that'll be happening to us?"
With a groan, John finally threw the bedcovers back. "All right, all right."
A short while later, the two Beatles were walking through Central Park in the darkness, searching for the place where John had fallen. John was half-hoping they wouldn't be able to find it, but the boys managed it without too much difficulty.
"There," George said. "It must be some kind of - portal or something."
"And how do you expect to get in there?" said John skeptically. "Last time it only worked because I fell into it." He had another thought. "If me tribute is a portal, maybe it only works on me." He tried not to sound as though he was scared the portal would take him and not George, and he'd be all alone again in a time when no one knew him.
George didn't seem worried, and if he knew John was, he didn't let on. "No, it won't. We'll both get in. I'll push you, and you'll fall into it again, and you'll pull me down with you."
"You're daft, George."
In answer, George just grinned and pushed John. John lost his footing and tumbled towards the ground, with just enough presence of mind to reach out and pull George with him. For a second, John was sure this was never going to work and he and George would just wind up on the ground looking very silly, but then they were hitting the ground, and everything went black, and next thing John heard was George's voice saying, "So this is 2014."
John opened his eyes. There were the black-and-white tiles again, and when he looked up, everything seemed indefinably different, even with John's blurry eyesight. He was back.
George helped John to his feet. Once again, it was a different time of day than it had been in '64 - the post-midnight darkness had turned to grey predawn light. There were fewer people around John's tribute, and he and George managed to walk away without being bothered by anyone who thought John didn't have the right to lie on it.
George seemed fascinated, looking at everything around him, sometimes approvingly, sometimes not. He enjoyed the future. Why couldn't the tribute have taken him the first time if it was so important for one of them to come here?
"It's like I told you," George said, when John voiced this thought, "it took you for a warning. You didn't like it here; you know we've got to change something."
"How are we supposed to reckon that one out? All I've found out is that we'll have silly arguments," John replied. If he had been brought here to change the future, he couldn't see how he was supposed to do that.
The two Beatles walked on a little more, and soon John realized they were headed for the place where he'd met Paul the day before. "'Ey, let's stop in and see him."
Finding Paul was even easier than yesterday. Across the street from his concert venue was a café, and sitting at a table on its patio having breakfast was Paul. And he wasn't alone. When he saw John and George coming, he suddenly smiled and pointed them out to his companion, a small man with a big nose and a wide grin. This man had very short hair and a little beard, and he wore sunglasses and an earring. But those differences didn't matter. John and George would have known him anywhere.
And the two older Beatles of 2014 got up and ran towards the two younger Beatles of 1964, and Ringo came at John like he was going to hug him, so John, not wanting to go through all that again, scooped up Ringo and swung him around before setting him down. He could still lift him easily, John noticed, and he and Ringo both laughed, Ringo with an I-can't-believe-this-is-happening look on his face. At least he didn't look like he was going to start crying.
Paul, meanwhile, was subjecting George to the same kind of hug he'd given John yesterday. George was standing there with his arms half-raised like he wasn't sure if he should be hugging Paul back or not, and awkwardly patted him on the back a bit.
"John!" Ringo said happily. "Paul told me he'd seen you yesterday - I didn't know if I should believe him..."
John grinned. "Still as light as you were fifty years ago yesterday," he said, by way of greeting. "'Ey, Ringo - do you still remember our first record?"
Ringo frowned. "The one I played drums on or the one I didn't?"
John turned to George, whom Paul had just released, and grinned at him. "He still remembers that in fifty years? He must have been pretty mad about it..."
The foursome sat down at the table Paul and Ringo had been using. For John and George, this was very ordinary, except that their two best mates were so old. For Paul and Ringo, though, this was a special thing that hadn't happened in decades and decades, something they'd thought could never happen again.
And so the four friends talked. George and John reminisced about things that had happened on their tours, things that had happened so long ago for Paul and Ringo that they'd nearly forgotten about them. Ringo and Paul told John and George all kinds of things. They told them about the success the Ed Sullivan gig would bring them, about a life of worldwide fans and fame, just like they had now, only more so. They told them about something called Sergeant Pepper ("What kind of a name is that for an album, Paul?" "No, just wait, John, it's going to be brilliant") and the hippie look the Beatles would adopt later. It turned out there really were good things ahead - a lot of good things. But there was still no denying that sooner or later they were going to destroy it all.
And so Paul and Ringo went into more detail about that, too, about the ends of the Beatles' tours in 1966 (John and George exchanged horrified looks - that gave them only two years to get all the fun in) and about the differences of opinion that had followed. "It had probably been coming on for a while, but we noticed it just after we'd all got back from India," Paul explained.
"I didn't like it in India," Ringo put in. "I don't care how much you want to go there, George."
George was confused. "I don't want to go to India."
Paul looked confused, then thoughtful. "He hasn't gotten into all of that yet, has he?"
"No," Ringo remembered, "that was after Help!, and I don't think they've done A Hard Day's Night yet..."
"What?" said John and George.
Ringo grinned. "I'm not ruining all the surprises for you. You're going to love it."
"Well, then he can't be into India yet," Paul concluded. "He hasn't even met Pattie."
"Who's this Pattie when she's at home?" George perked up. "Is she pretty?"
Paul and Ringo laughed a little. "Wait for her, George! We're not giving away everything!"
"Yeah, and speaking of girls," John put in, "what about this wife of mine - the one you said broke us up?"
Paul sighed. "She didn't, really, I told you. It was just - you were all obsessed with her, and we didn't understand, and she wanted you to record these daft things with her instead of our music."
"She's not as bad as all that," Ringo spoke up. "She's rather nice, really."
"Yeah," Paul nodded, "she is now, only then..."
"Only what?" John couldn't understand this piece of the puzzle. "How'd I fall for a girl who you could think was splittin' us up?"
"Well, that's what we used to ask ourselves," Paul said.
"Maybe she looked like - Brigitte Bardot or somebody," George suggested.
"Yoko?" Ringo laughed. "I don't think that was it."
The conversation turned to other things then, but John was still thinking. From what he'd heard, most of the things that would break them up later seemed so easily avoided - like getting Brian Epstein to keep a closer eye on his health, for instance. But this whole thing about Yoko puzzled him. He'd heard many interesting things about her, the woman he would apparently someday marry, and they didn't all seem to fit together. And he didn't think it was his mates who could help him understand. They hadn't understood it themselves.
John stood up. "All right, it's been fun," he said, "but me and George have got things to do now."
It was the same as yesterday. "You're leaving?" Paul's eyes got sad.
"Don't start cryin' again, Paul," said John.
"What d'you expect?" Paul demanded. "I haven't seen you in thirty-three years! Can't you two just stay here with us?" he added hopefully.
George frowned. "I don't think we can," he said seriously. "I don't know what'd happen to us if we did that. We'd disappear from '64 and then we might disappear altogether."
"How did you get to know so much about this, George?" demanded John.
"It'll be all them mystic things he likes," Ringo guessed. "You'll see when he gets into that."
"Well, there you are, Paul," John said. "We can't disappear forever and that. And we want to go back to the sixties. Maybe we could take you two with us..."
But he wasn't at all surprised when George shook his head. "We can't," he said. "It's like I told you before, John. We can't have two of them running around the place."
"Can't you at least stay until after we do the Ed Sullivan Show tribute?" asked Ringo hopefully. "It'd be gear, the four of us doin' it together..."
"Wouldn't work, son." John remembered something from his last trip to the future, something which he suddenly realized the meaning of. "We don't show up on camera here. On account that we don't belong here or whatever it is George says."
George looked unsurprised. Ringo and Paul looked very upset.
The foursome exchanged lingering goodbyes. "Cheer up," John told his two much-older mates as he did. "We'll fix things up in our time, and then we'll still be here in yours. That's a promise."
Last night I said these words to my girl
I know you never even try, girl
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
You don't need me to show the way, love
Why do I always have to say "love"
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
I don't wanna sound complaining
But you know there's always rain in my heart (In my heart)
I do all the pleasing with you, it's so hard to reason
With you, whoah yeah, why do you make me blue
Last night I said these words to my girl
I know you never even try, girl
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
(Me) Whoa yeah, like I please you
(Me) Whoa yeah, like I please you
I know you never even try, girl
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
You don't need me to show the way, love
Why do I always have to say "love"
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
I don't wanna sound complaining
But you know there's always rain in my heart (In my heart)
I do all the pleasing with you, it's so hard to reason
With you, whoah yeah, why do you make me blue
Last night I said these words to my girl
I know you never even try, girl
C'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon), c'mon (C'mon)
Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you
(Me) Whoa yeah, like I please you
(Me) Whoa yeah, like I please you