All My Loving (On Hold)

Chapter 4: The Letter

The plane ride was unbearable. John got sick, Paul snored, George complained, Brian tried to deal with all of this and Ringo was stoned on his sadness.

Why does he hate me... Ringo thought bitterly as he glanced at Brian. I never did anything wrong...did I?

Finally the plane landed and the band was able to go home. They hailed a taxi.

Sadly, their taxi dropped them off in the wrong place. The band trudged home in the freezing rain.

"Dammit...I'm fuckin' freezin'!" John shouted.

"Were those guys the Beatles?!" a girl's voice called. The four whipped around. There stood about five girls all squealing with delight despite the bitter cold.

"Oh shit!" Paul yelped as he took off. The other three followed in suit.

"Why th' fuck does this always 'appen?!" George cried. 

After what seemed like an eternity, they reach their shared home.

"I hate bein' famous..." Ringo muttered.

"Agreed, Rings," Paul chimed up. 

John sighed and flopped down on the couch. "I'm gonna sleep all day. Hell! I'll sleep all tomorrow too!"

Paul chuckled and sat down next to John. "You always sleep, Johnny..."

George pulled a disgusted face and looked at Ringo. The drummer laughed and sat down in a chair. George sat down in the other chair.

Within three minutes, they were all asleep. Except Ringo. He sat there thinking and thinking and thinking.

Suddenly he heard something from the entryway.

"What the hell was tha'...?" he mumbled as he got up to investigate.

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. What 'ave we 'ere?" Ringo picked up an envelope. He eagerly ripped it open. The letter inside read:
Please whoever lives here. I can't take care of my daughter. Please watch over her and protect her.

"What the bloody hell?" Ringo muttered. He threw open the door and saw a child of about six months  wrapped in a blanket lying in a cardboard box.

Ringo gaped in shock. He cautiously picked the baby up. Her pale pink skin was wet and cold.

Oh fuck...what if she's dead? Ringo thought.

He took her inside, cooing gently and hoping she would wake up.

"John? Paul? George? Uh...I need help 'ere!" Ringo called softly.

"What is it now, Ringo?" Paul grumbled. "What's that you have there?"

"Ringo! Did ya steal some bird's kid or somethin'?" George exclaimed.

John gasped. "Ringo! Get rid of it! What if Brian see tha'? He'll 'ave yer head!"

A bout of protectiveness took over Ringo. "No! I won't get rid of her! Someone already did! She needs someone, Johnny...I wanna be tha' someone..."

George nervously walked over. "She's so cold...ya hafta warm her up, Rings...an' feed her..."

Ringo nodded. He held the baby closer. John wrinkled his nose but went to the kitchen. Paul looked around for a blanket. Ringo sat down again and hummed softly to the child. George went out to the box to see if there was anything important in it still.

John came back out with a cup of warm milk. "I couldn't find anythin' t' put this in, sorry..."

"Here." George handed a bottle to John. "It was in th' box outside."

Within a few minutes, the baby was warmed up and fed.

"How are we going to take care of her?" Paul asked. "Eppy will kill us!"

Ringo said nothing. He just sat there holding this child. 

"Paul. We won't do anythin'. We'll keep her even if Brian doesn't want t'. Clearly Ritchie loves th' kid. Let's leave it at tha', m'k?" John said as he put his arm around Paul's shoulders.

Paul nodded. "A kid is a huge responsibility though. Especially a baby." Ringo shrugged. He was lost in the child's sleeping features.

"She almost looks like ye, Paul...dark hair and all..." Ringo mumbled. Paul went red in the face.

"I, uh...have to take a shower..." Paul muttered.

John gave him a suspicious look. "What's 'is problem...?" he wondered aloud.

"Ignore it," George chided gently. "He's bein' Paul." John chuckled and agreed. 

"I think she's lovely," Ringo said suddenly. The other two murmured in agreement and went off to bed. Ringo sat in the chair and drifted to sleep, his newly acquired daughter in his lap.