𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧

3 - What're You Doin' Here?

He was staring at her, the solemn expression of being lost instantly recognizable on his face. His lips stayed tightly knit as they observed each other. His eyes flicked to her fingers intertwined with Lewis', a hint of question in his face as he looked back up at her. They were trapped a mile apart, both of them desperately needing to say something but neither knowing where to begin.

At last John scratched the back of his neck. "Ello."

"Ello." It was nothing, a pleasantry, a beyond underwhelming way to greet someone when there was so much more to say. But none of it was coming to her now. There was only John. Looking into his eyes now, she could see how different he looked at her. He'd evolved without her, and the face she saw now was that of a complete stranger.

Her eyes stayed locked on him even after he had snapped out of it, his voice a blur in her ear as he turned away and nodded around to his bandmates. "Pint for all of us, then?"

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19 December, 1960

The ship came in later that week. And the boys, who'd had no choice but to leave their instruments and amps behind in Germany, were beyond ecstatic to have their gear back. Not even a blizzard could stop them – though it certainly put up a fair fight.

Around noon they'd driven out to the docks in Lewis' car, braving both the snow that pelted them in the face and the dirty sea breeze that blew so loud it made it hard to hear each other. The sky was dark with heavy overcast, the sea a green mirror of the blankness above. The boat, a bright body of white, was impossible to miss – the boys hungrily watched it getting closer, all of them too eager to be musicians again. After John had come round, they'd all agreed to start playing gigs again – and now they'd have their equipment back, they finally could. This boat was bringing their lives back.

Presently Paul and George were loading the final amp into Lewis' tiny trunk, while Meg brushed the snow from Paul's hair and eyelashes. John had run to grab one more thing, and Fiona and Lewis lingered by the car to help squash everything in. They'd made good work of it; there would still be room for the six of them if they crammed.

Fiona shivered in her London trench, watching the snow melting on the water that lapped against the docks. John's muffled voice faded in and out of earshot behind her as he went back and forth from the car, then someone else's footsteps were rapidly approaching, crunching the snow behind her.

"Lookin' to catch your death?" Lewis teased, wrapping a puffy arm around her shoulders. He was nothing but a cute little boy with his pink nose, snowflakes balancing perfectly on top of his freckles.

"It's a lovely day," she smiled with mischief. "Enjoyin' the weather."

Lewis chuckled, guiding her away back toward the car. "Get inside, you loon."

The layout in the car was slightly interesting. George had already climbed in the back beside Paul and Meg, the three of them bickering over who would have to squeeze in the middle.

Already sitting halfway down the front bench, to her surprise, was John, who was at present turned around, trying his best to win the back middle seat for George. Fiona climbed in through the driver's side door, shutting it quickly as Lewis came around to close the trunk.

Without really thinking about it, Fiona nudged John's side. "Budge up, you." He turned to her, almost in surprise. Nudging him, touching him, suggested a sort intimacy that was out of place between them.

"Ta." She at last said after a breath, sliding into the middle, brushing the snow from the lap of her coat. She tugged off her gloves and then glanced back up at him, realizing he was still watching her. For a second she had the instinct to reach up and ruffle his hair. But then she heard the door open, felt the wall of cold air on her back, and there was Lewis sliding in next to her, shutting the door again and starting the car. John dropped his gaze to the floor as Lewis, unaware of anything that had transpired, greeted them warmly.