Carry On (A Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter Forty Seven

"Don't. It can't work." I reminded myself. A few more photos, were of John and I. I remembered what was taking place in those ones. We'd just begun opening up to one another and I was so pleased.

"I'll let you browse through them. I'm just gonna go wash up." Ringo suddenly spoke.

"Oh, sure." I smiled, breaking my focus away from the pictures. When he left, my eyes rested on the one of George and I again. I felt tears threatening and pushed them away.

"Stop it. It's history, it's just how things play out for him." I thought. But it wasn't fair! I'd given John a chance. George deserved one too.

"But I can't pinpoint his. It was cancer." I'd gone over that so many times already. But it wasn't any more satisfying. Before I started crying in the middle of the café, I dug out my notebook from my bag and just started writing.

I'm so at war with myself. My time here, I fear is drawing to a close and yet there's so much left I want to do. I know I belong back in 2015 with my family, but it's just going to be really, really hard to say goodbye. Especially to John and George. Though John now has a chance, through a series of unfortunate circumstances provided in part by me, but I still blame myself for placing the burden on him. I feel like I should give George a chance too, but it's much harder to prevent. Cancer is a cruel mistress if I ever saw one and sweet, loving George shouldn't have to succumb to it. November 29, 2001 should not be his last day on this earth, he died much too young. He had so much left to grace the world with. His love of peace, his kind hearted ways, his mindful lyrics. But what can I do? His cancer developed in the late 90s. First in his throat, then it gradually moved to his lungs and finally his brain. It's not like I can cure cancer. I mean, I could try... but really. So that's why I'm at war with myself. I could tell George, but that'd only be warning him of his death and telling him there's nothing anybody can do about it. I'm sure he fought hard when he was undergoing the cancer treatment, but sadly, the disease would win... I stopped writing as Ringo came back.

"What are you writing?" He asked, in a laid back tone. I slapped the book closed and set it on my lap.

"Just my travels." I replied.

"So you can show everyone you know back...you know." He said in a low voice. I nodded.

"Something like that." I replied, remembering my promise to myself to give it to John in parting. I realized then that I couldn't have that entry in it... it explicitly told of George's death.

"I'm gonna have to go through this and make sure it's safe." I thought, slowly reaching and ripping out the last entry I'd just written and folding it in my lap. As our food was brought to us, I let Ringo look over all his pictures and we chatted about what we remembered about each photo. I began to relax again and meant to just stuff my notebook and the piece of paper into my bag, the paper to throw out, but then the room began spinning again.

"Not this again!" I thought, gripping the table, lest I fall off the chair.

"Ashley?" Ringo's voice echoed.

"Ashley, are you okay?" When it stopped, I stood up, setting the notebook and the now crumples piece of paper on the table. My heart was racing, my mouth dry and my palms were clammy. Ringo didn't know about my spells. I wasn't ready to tell him either.

"I-I'll be right back." I said, practically running to the restrooms. When I got there, I leaned over the sink and tried to catch my breath.

"What caused that one?" I thought, wracking my brain. I'd been with Ringo and had just been writing about George. John hadn't even come into the picture. Sure I'd seen a few photos...