"You mother fuckin' piece of shit!" Paul slammed the telephone receiver down.
It was his daughter's birthday and although he hadn't seen her for the past three years, she was turning six and he wanted to tell her happy birthday. George, however, had other plans. Paul was not, under any circumstances, allowed to talk to Caroline.
"She's my daughter! All I want to say is happy birthday. Is tha' too much t' ask for?! I don't think so! But apparently it is!" Paul flopped down on his couch in frustration.
"Paul? Is everything alright?" a soft voice called from the other room. Paul jumped a little. He had forgotten that his wife was still home.
"It's fine, Linda, dear! Just a little disagreement with George!" Paul lied expertly.
"You two are still fighting?"
Paul flinched at that. "Yeah... Fightin'... Tha's all..."
Linda walked in and studied Paul's face. "It wasn't just a little disagreement, was it..."
"No. It wasn't. Linda, we haven't been on good terms since Brian died. You never met Brian but..." Paul stopped talking. He didn't want Linda to know.
"But what?" she pressed gently.
Paul gulped a little. "I... I told him t'... T' kill himself..."
Linda blinked in shock and said nothing. Paul was fighting back his tears as he continued. "George told me t' leave Brian alone but I wouldn't listen. If I had... Brian wouldn't be dead an' I'd be gettin' along with George..."
Linda still didn't say anything. Paul was starting to get worried. He thought that he shouldn't have told her that.
"I wish you had told me sooner," Linda said. "You wouldn't have had to hide this pain, Paul. I love you and I'd do anything for you. Do you want me to talk to George?"
Paul looked up at Linda. "Would you? Oh, Linda, tha'd be amazin'!" He jumped up and hugged her tightly.
Linda sighed and went to call George.
* * * * *
"JOHN! GET TH' PHONE! I'M IN TH' SHOWER!" George yelled to him.
"I KNOW THA', YE DIPSHIT!" John chuckled. "'Ello, this is John Lennon, 'ere. Who's this?"
"John?" Linda asked. John paled and started to sweat. Where ever Linda was, Paul was. Where ever Paul was, trouble was.
"L-Linda! How great t' 'ear yer voice!" John lied nervously.
"Is George there, John?" Linda asked.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll call 'im down. Hang on..." John set the receiver on the table and ran up to the bathroom.
"Dammit, John! Knock before enterin'!" George snapped as he hastily grabbed a towel.
"Sorry, love..." John murmured in George's ear. "I didn't think ye'd be out yet... Th' phone's fer ye, ye know..." John kissed George's cheek.
"M'k... I'll get it. Keep whoever it is busy. I'll be down in a minute," George responded as he kissed John's cheek.
"Ye might wanna answer it soon. It's Linda..."
"Linda?"
"McCartney."
"Why th' hell..." George swore softly as he threw his dressing gown on. "I swear, if she's tryin' t' make amends between me an' Paul... Oh, hi, Linda!"
"Hello, George. Paul said that you two were fighting? I was wondering if I could help smooth things out," Linda explained.
"No, but thank ya for tryin', Linda. What 'appened between me an' Paul was a long time ago, but I can't forgive 'im, or myself, for it. I'm sorry," George said through gritted teeth.
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry for bothering you, George."
"It's fine. I've had a long day. 'm sorry for snappin'."
"It's fine. I'll tell Paul. It was good to talk to you, George."
"An' ya, Linda." George hung up and turned to John.
"George, calm down," John said. George swallowed hard and ran over to John sobbing.
"John, I hate this!" George cried.
"Shhshh... It's okay, sweetheart... It's fine... Johnny's here..." John muttered as he kissed George's head.
George burried his face in John's chest and sobbed more. "I can't take it..."
"Ye 'ave t', fer me, fer Carrie..."