Will My Guitar Gently Weep?

Chapter 1: A Second Chance

The year was 2001, and in November the world mourned the loss of George Harrison. As the sun dipped below the horizon on a sombre evening, George curiously found himself surrounded by an almost serene, ethereal light. A soft hum filled the air, and a gentle voice echoed through the cosmos, basically echoing off the very star themselves.

"George Harrison," the voice whispered, "your journey is not yet complete. A twist in time awaits you."

Suddenly, he felt a sensation of weightlessness, as if he was being lifted from the ground. Colours swirled around him, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of a familiar building - the first hotel they had stayed in during their tour in America. But that was impossible that was 1964. He looked down and noticed he was no longer the older, wiser George he had become in his final years. Instead, he found himself in the body of his younger self, suit and all.

Confused and disoriented, he blinked in disbelief. "What's happening?" he muttered to himself.

He took a deep breath, feeling the crisp American air. He glanced around, and behind him, he could see his three bandmate leaving the car that had likely brought them here. John, Paul, and Ringo, youthful and full of energy, unaware of the existential dread that George was currently experiencing.

With a mix of astonishment and nostalgia, George waited for the group. As he approached, his heart beat loudly in his ears, there they were young and filled with the familiar banter that they had once shared. He looked at John sadly, remembering his once long deceased friend.

"Hey, George, you're looking a bit spaced out there," John quipped, giving him a playful nudge.

George chuckled nervously, realizing the magnitude of the situation. How could he explain his sudden return without sounding insane? As they entered the studio, he pondered his next move.

As George follows his bandmates into the confines of the hotel, a mix of emotions swirled within him. The memories flooded back - the countless hours spent perfecting melodies, the laughter, the tension, and the end of their union.

John, Paul, and Ringo were engrossed in a discussion about their upcoming appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. George observed them, feeling a sense of displacement. How could he explain his sudden reappearance without causing confusion or disbelief?

Taking a deep breath, George approached his bandmates cautiously. "Hey lads, mind if I join in?" he asked, trying to sound casual despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.

John glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, but you look a bit different today, George. Something's changed?" he remarked, his tone filled childish curiosity.

George chuckled nervously, realizing there was no easy way to broach the subject. "Well, you could say that," he replied vaguely, not wanting to reveal the inexplicable truth just yet.

Paul, always perceptive, studied George intently. "You seem a bit... off. Everything alright?" he inquired, concern evident in his voice.

"Everything's fine, just a bit jet-lagged, maybe," George replied with a forced smile, hoping to divert their attention.

Ringo, ever the peacemaker, shrugged. "Alright, George. Time to go up our rooms, shall we?"

Once they get up to their rooms and settle down. He picked up his guitar, the strings feeling like an old friend beneath his fingertips. Memories of the melodies flooded back, and he played with a mix of nostalgia and renewed vigour.

But amidst the melodies, George couldn't shake the weight of the truth. He had been granted a chance to relive his past, but with it came the responsibility of navigating this delicate balance between altering destiny and preserving the fabric of time, such as being with Liv and Dhani. A wave of sadness passes through him, when he thinks about the fact most people from his future he doesn't have and may never have again.

Amidst the music, he found himself drawn into conversations with his bandmates, relishing the opportunity to connect with them in this unexpected reunion. Paul eventually sidled up to George, his eyes filled with worry. "Seriously, mate, you're acting a bit odd today. Something's definitely up," Paul remarked, his tone gentle but probing.

George hesitated, searching for the right words. How could he explain the inexplicable without raising suspicions? "You know, sometimes things just feel a bit... different. Can't quite put my finger on it, I'm probably just nervous for the show..." he responded vaguely, hoping to deflect the attention from his unusual behaviour. He needed to act normal, in his head he was berating himself.

Paul glanced at him, a knowing expression crossing his face, but he decided not to press further. "Alright, George. Just remember, if you ever need to talk about it, we're all here for you," he said with a reassuring smile.

As the conversation lingered in his mind, George found solace in his guitar. Fingers effortlessly traced the familiar chords, and a soft melody emerged. Unbeknownst to him, it was one of his own songs - I Me Mine.

The gentle strumming caught the attention of Ringo, who had been smoking near the window. He turned his head, a curious glint in his eyes. "Hey, George, what's that tune you're playing? Sounds new," Ringo inquired, his interest piqued.

George paused, momentarily panicked by his own instinctive play, his heartbeat quickening. "Oh, just something that popped into my head," he replied casually, he needed to keep these things secret, and be more aware of the consequences.

As the day wore on and the night grew near, he felt an unusual sensation building at the back of his mind, a dull ache that intensified with each passing moment. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the persistent headache that seemed to cloud his thoughts.

"Are you alright, George?" Ringo asked, noticing his discomfort as they wrapped up the session.

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache. Probably just tired," George replied, trying to dismiss the growing unease within him.

As the group got ready for bed, he found himself increasingly preoccupied with the inexplicable headache that refused to subside. He paced the room, trying to make sense of this sudden physical distress. Was it a side effect of his unexpected journey through time, or was there something else at play?

John noticed George's restlessness. "You seem bothered, mate. Head still pounding?" he asked, somewhat dismissively.

George nodded, trying to mask his growing unease. "Yeah, it's been getting worse. Hopefully, a good night's sleep will sort it out," he replied, hoping it was just fatigue catching up with him.

As the evening slipped into night, George found it difficult to relax. His mind raced with questions, the headache persisting despite his attempts to ignore it. He tossed and turned in bed, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him.

As sleep eluded him, George couldn't help but wonder if his sudden return to 1964 had triggered this inexplicable pain. Was it the clash between the past and the future, or something else entirely?

With the dawn of a new day approaching and the start of the tour looming, George hoped that the headache would dissipate, allowing him to focus on the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead. Yet, as he closed his eyes in an attempt to find solace in sleep, the enigmatic ache persisted, casting a shadow over his thoughts and the uncertainty of what the future held for the Beatles and for him.