I Want to Tell You (A Beatles Fanfic)

Chapter 50-Across the Universe 🕒Saturday, December 21st, 1963🕞

The December night air bit at my hands as I dug them as far down into my pockets as they would go. I was nearing the suspicious address the man had provided me and with every step, I could hear my heart beating erratically and totally out of control. Just around the bend, at the corner of a small suburban street, my mysterious friend stood under a street lamp. Waiting. For me.

My breath hitched in my throat and I nearly turned back when I heard him call out from where he stood.

He was wearing a long, black Sherlock-esque overcoat, a complete contradiction of his earlier attire. There was something compelling about his appearance and this time he looked rather...nice, ruggedly handsome perhaps had this fellow not been a complete stranger and potential creep.

I froze in my tracks as he began sauntering towards me.

"They call it 'gaslight street.' It hasn't changed in 60 years and it's tumbling down."

He paused a few feet in front of me, sticking out his hand swiftly. "I'll cut right to the chase, I owe you that. The name's Flint, Jeffrey Flint. Temporal Agent AF 708. Retired Spaceman. Continuum Angel. You see, all this is your past, but I'm your future."

The minute he had opened his mouth I nearly choked on my own saliva. You'd really think by now I'd have gotten used to these kind of things happening...

"W-what did you just say?"

He shook his head. "I think we'd better sit down. Allow me..."

He motioned with his hand to a large house, reminiscent of the Banks residence.

I stepped back quickly, nearly running into another lamp post.

"No." I said flatly, crossing my arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you prove that you actually know me."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to the heavens in mock exasperation. "This isn't going to be easy." he muttered.

I raised an eyebrow. "What-"

"Very well then, Miss. Your name's Wendy Parker, you were born November 29, 2001, coincidentally the death date of George Harrison? I think not. You have been hopelessly infatuated with the lad for lack of better terms throughout your teenage years while the rest of the world dug Harry Styles and BTS, your mother loved Walt Disney so much she named you after Wendy Darling in Peter Pan, your grandfather died of dementia in 2015 followed by your breakup which drove you into a depression where you didn't leave your house and listened only to Rubber Soul, you have a black cat named Susan and you forgot to feed her the day you left wearing your vintage orange and purple jumpsuit you had packed when you left for college and cried when you stained the sleeve with-"

"OK I'LL COME IN THE HOUSE."

Face white and palms shaking, I followed Jeffrey Flint into his house and slammed the door, leaning against it to catch my breath. Looking up and finally daring to meet his eyes, I let out a long sigh.

"Ok, I'll bite. Who are you?"

"I told you, the name's Jeffrey, you may call me Jeff-"

"No, I mean what are you?" I frowned, suddenly taking in my surroundings. "Do you live here?"

He smiled, walking over to a table and pouring himself a cup of tea. "Yes, yes I do. When I'm in London, that is. I'm rather proud of it...all the love I've put into it over the years." He looked up at me. "Tea?"

"No thank...oh what the heck, sure." I said, thinking better of the situation. Being poisoned or drugged by tea was the least of my worries right now. I'd already witnessed the madness of everything else in my life up to this point and considering this man looked like the type who might just fly out of this house with Marry Poppins and I wouldn't bat an eyelash, I figured I'd take my chances. Handing me a small cup, I took a sip with a nod of thanks. It was warm, and I had to admit, nothing felt better on a cold London night. As an American, I had grown quite accustomed to these Londoners and their tea, drinking it regularly at the Asher's, partly because I had nothing better to do then sit around all day with Mrs. Asher when I wasn't with The Beatles as one has to pass time when visiting a decade they don't belong in, and partly because I liked it.