My Love, My Drug, My Release

Early March, 1969- Later That Day

Despite having just formally announced their engagement, Paul and Linda seemed utterly vexed when we returned to St. John's Wood after a short, lackluster rehearsal. Paul's cussword-filled rant about Jackson went on for the entire car ride home and continued after we'd arrived; it eventually began to sound like white noise. My brother hadn't come back yet, obviously; I expected he'd get pissed, screw around a bit, then stumble home closer to sun-up than sun-down, and everything would go back to normal.

Poking around the kitchen, I could see evidence that Jack had been correct in his assumption that Linda was with child. A jar of dill pickles, challah bread, peach yogurt, premade mushroom ravioli, a container of blueberries, peppermint candies, canned artichokes, and lots and lots of salt and vinegar crisps, all recently purchased.

I grabbed a bag of crisps off the shelf and plopped down in front of the TV, determined to wait up until Jack returned home so I could help smooth over the rift between my brother and our guardians, Linda in particular. She may not be related by blood, but she raised us, cared for us, and no matter what front he might put up, he loved her. 

When the final station signed off for the night, I flicked on the light and pulled out the copy of Animal Farm Dad sent me for some missed holiday, the one Jack discovered in the linen closet. I stayed up till dawn, not tiring, though it did become harder and harder to read clearly, the words blurring into inky blobs. Eventually, I set the book aside, opening the curtains to watch the sunrise, closing them only when fans starting waving at me, holding up signs asking for Paul.

"You alright, Buttercup?" Linda asked at around ten the next day- a Sunday.

"Jack didn't come back last night," I said flatly.

She shrugged, drifting into the kitchen. "After what happened yesterday, it's probably best he take some time to cool off."

I followed her, watching as she cracked eggs into a skillet, mouth gaping in disbelief. "Something bad could've happened- he could be hurt, or worse- and you don't even care." She didn't respond, whisking the eggs aggressively. "Ever since we started living with Paul, you've been different, you've treated Jack differently."

Linda turned on the burner with an aggressive flick of her wrist. "I thought you were happy for us. Are you on our side, or his?"

Before I could even begin to answer that ridiculous question, she bent over the sink and spat up bile, just a bit, and then dry-heaved for another minute, before wiping her mouth and turning to face me bashfully. "Guess you haven't had a stomach bug for the past two months, huh?"

"It's getting better." She always avoided answering my questions directly. "Morning sickness typically ends after four months, so the wedding will need to be soon."

"Why lie to us?"

"I didn't lie!" She turned the burner off on her eggs, dumping them onto a plate. "I simply delayed informing you about my pregnancy until Paul and I decided how we were going to handle it."

I rolled my eyes at her poor attempt at reframing, pouring myself a glass of orange juice and grabbing another bag of crisps. Not exactly a wholesome breakfast, but my waistline didn't seem very important in light of the current situation. Sitting down at the table, I turned to face Linda, folding my arms. "If you don't love Jackson, I don't see any reason why you'd love me."

"Of course I love you, sweetheart, and I love your brother; why would you say something like that?"

"Maybe Paul wants us out of the way so he can focus on his family-"

"You are my family." I whipped my head around to see the bassist leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs, a bathrobe cinched around his waist. He walked up to me, kneeling so we were eye to eye, the way Dad did when he told me he was marrying Linda, but that she could never replace my mom. "You'll be my daughter, and that baby will be your sister- and Jack's too, okay?"

His face and words rang with such sincerity, I almost believed him, but I'd wait and hear what Jack had to say. Except he didn't come back. Days passed and he didn't so much as phone home. Paul and Linda were busy preparing for their wedding(with her baby bump starting to show, the countdown had begun), but eventually they couldn't ignore his absence anymore and contacted the authorities. I stuck around while a cop interviewed them, making sure they told him Jack never stayed out for more than two days at a time. He was only sixteen after all- where would he go?

"We'll circulate a recent photo of his, and keep an eye out, but at so close to eighteen, and with a history of sneaking out, I can't, in good conscience, dedicate as much manpower to his absence as we do for most missing children."

"Why not?" I demanded. "He's still a kid!"

"Miss, be honest with me. Is it more likely that your brother's been kidnapped or that he ran away?" I didn't respond, folding my arms, hating that I looked like a petulant child. The policeman nodded knowingly. "I'll be sure to keep you updated on anything we find."

Linda walked him to the door, and I flopped down onto the loveseat. It'd been over a month since my feet laid perfectly flat on the floor, and my pediatrician said I still had a few inches ahead of me. Most of my jeans didn't fit anymore, but I didn't mind; if I couldn't have boobs and hips, at least my height might make me look older, old enough to marry Brandon.

With a sigh, Paul sat down beside me, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders, tugging gently on a lock of my hair. "Sorry about this, kiddo."

"Are you really?"

His brows pinched together. "How can you even ask me that?"

Teardrops collected in my waterline, spilling over and running down my cheeks before I could stop them. "I just can't help but think that- that you'd be happier with just your baby. And if you want him gone at the first sign of trouble, what will you do when I do something- when I eventually-"

"Shhhh, darling no, no, no." He pulled me into a warm hug, rubbing soothing circles on my back as my tears left dark splotches on his grey t-shirt. "You're my daughter, you'll always be my daughter, and I love you."

I cried so hard my chest hurt, till I could scarcely breathe. Linda came back and then slowly backed out, leaving me alone with Paul. I'm sure they thought this was a beautiful bonding moment between a man and his future step-daughter, but my tears were sad ones, devastated ones. Because when I let for Bordeaux with Brandon, I'd be less than Jackson, less than a boy they never loved, who was always a burden, bailing out before the wedding. I'd be the quiet, polite daughter they could happily pose with running off like a slut. I'd be a traitor.

I don't want to overwhelm you guys with Author's Notes, but I wanted to let you know that I'm prewriting a George fanfiction that I think you guys will love! I'm not going to publish it until I finish this story or until I have at least thirty chapters prewritten. I'm also writing a Rolling Stones story, but I'll be staggering the books as well as bulking up the prewritten chapters so I don't spread myself too thin. Thank you guys so much for your continued support; all your votes, comments, and adds mean the world to me!