A/N: Shorter chapter, but things are wrapping up. Like I said, have tissues on standby, this story is probably going to be finished either today or tomorrow. Enjoy the chapter.
Chapter Forty Seven:
Ringo and I took a cab to the camera shop where the shop owner was very helpful. He did speak English, like Ringo had said, but I had to help the poor man out a couple times because he had a very thick accent and Ringo was sometimes hard to understand, especially to a Frenchman. We had to wait for the photos to be developed, so we perused some shops nearby. We chatted back and forth, but nothing stressful. Ringo knew how to keep it light and I appreciated it. I browsed through some cheap jewellery, Ringo was quite captivated by all the postcards. It was really nice. When we went back to get the photos, I was actually quite excited to see how they turned out.
"Let's wait until we get to the café, makes it more suspenseful." He suggested, wiggling his eyebrows as the camera shop owner gave him the package of pictures, and we left. I tried to remember all the times I'd had my picture taken by him. At first, I wasn't overly keen on the idea, given the fact that I wasn't even supposed to be in this timeline, but I'd lightened up. Maybe those photos would one day give conclusive proof that I wasn't off my block crazy. I recalled my dream again as we walked and it gave me shivers.
"Are you chilly?" Ringo asked me.
"Um, no. No, I was just thinking." I admitted.
"You have a lot on your mind lately, huh?" I nodded.
"Yeah, you have no idea."
"Well that's what right now is for. To take your mind off everything." He was so sweet.
"Thanks, Ringo." I smiled at him as we approached a café.
"Is this the one?" I asked and he nodded. Walking inside, I was hit with a waft of coffee and fresh baked goods mixed together. It was quite calming.
"Smells amazing in here." I voiced my thought.
"I'll say. Should we sit down?" He suggested. So we did, at a cute little table for two. As I removed my jacket, a waiter came over with a rather funny looking mustache and began asking us in French if we'd like to start off with some drinks. Poor Ringo looked baffled for a moment until I leaned close to him and asked him what he wanted to drink. I ordered both of us coffees in French and thanked the waiter, before he left.
"It's still so weird that you can talk like that." Ringo noted. I smiled and picked up the menu.
"You're telling me they never taught French to you in school?" Ask a stupid question...
"You kidding? It was Liverpool, we basically learned how to spell and add. That was it." I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I laughed anyway. When our coffees were brought over, I ordered our lunch and we were left alone again.
"Should we see the pictures now?" I asked him eagerly.
"Oh right. Yeah, let's have a look." He replied, taking the package out of his jacket pocket. He opened the flap and took the stack out, setting it in the middle of the table. The first ones were the most recent, from the Eiffel Tower only the day before. I liked them, they turned out great. They were black and white, but I didn't care. Back in 2015, black and white was a sought after feature for a lot of pictures.
"Hey, look at us. They turned out good." I smiled, going through few more pictures. They went backwards because there were some from America I'd nearly forgotten about. Some were of all of us, some only had me, some only a few of the lads or one of them at a time, some were of me with one of them. Some I didn't even know my picture was being taken, sort of a candid shot. There was one of me laughing at something George had said and I felt a pang in my heart again. He was so happy.
"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...
"Does this mean I'm leaving sooner?" I worried, regarding myself in the mirror. I looked pale.
Third Person POV:
Ringo was at a loss as to why Ashley had suddenly run off.
"Did the food make her sick?" He wondered. It seemed unlikely, they'd had the same thing and he felt fine. He noticed that she'd been writing in her notebook again. What had upset her? He saw the folded up, slightly crumpled piece of paper on top of the book. Out of curiosity, he picked it up and skimmed what Ashley had written.
Ashley's POV
About five minutes later, I felt okay enough to leave the bathroom. I tried to take a few calming deep breaths and enjoy the rest of the 'date' as everyone else kept calling it. Ringo was still sitting at the table and in my dazed state, I just picked up my notebook and stuffed it in the bag without even realizing the paper on top was missing.
"Are you okay?" I got asked that a lot, but I nodded.
"Yeah, sorry. Um...is there anywhere else you wanted to go?" I asked, trying to be casual.
"Well, I know we have another interview this afternoon, so I guess we should head back, if that's okay with you." Ringo replied. I nodded.
"Sure." So we paid and left. I was still in a little bit of a daze as we walked back down the street and passed the camera shop again. I knew we needed a cab to get back to the hotel too. We walked in silence, which was okay because I was slowly getting a headache, when suddenly behind us we heard.
"Ringo!!" In a high pitched, screaming voice. We both whirled around and about five teenage girls were running towards us.
"Uh... Run?" I suggested.
"Will you be okay to run?" He asked me.
"Yes! Go!" I cried, breaking into a flat out run and dragging Ringo along with me. We ran down the sidewalk, dodging people as we went. It felt good to run, actually, despite how I'd been feeling only minutes prior. I kept looking over my shoulder, but those girls weren't giving up!
"Are they gone?" Ringo panted.
"No. Not yet." I replied, getting breathless as well. We came upon a large alleyway.
"Quick, in here." I told him and we ducked into the alley. I pressed against the wall and he followed suit. I heard the sound of running footsteps pass us and poked my head out.
"Okay, I think we're good." I said after a few minutes.
"Well that was fun." Ringo chuckled as we stepped back onto the street.
"Yeah, well I always have fun with you." I told him. He looked a little taken aback at the comment, but pleased at the same time.
"I have fun with you too. You're definitely one of a kind."
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When we returned to the hotel, I felt better and was a little excited to head out again for another interview. The lads may have hated it, but I had watched all these interviews online. It was awesome to see them in person.
"I'll meet you at you guys' suite, I just have to freshen up." I told Ringo, as I headed for the staircase. I wanted to do something with my hair if we were going out. When I got to my room though, it happened again. It was another bad one, like the one I'd had the night before at the venue.
"Oh no..." I said aloud. I felt my knees buckle and everything went black.
"I was dreaming of the past... and my heart was beating fast..." I knew that song. Where was it coming from? I couldn't see, all around me was pitch black.
"Hello?" I called, trying to sit up. my voice echoed, but no one answered.
"I didn't mean to hurt you... I'm sorry that I made you cry... I didn't want to hurt you... I'm just a jealous guy..." It was John's song. I knew it well, it was from his first solo album.
"Hello!?" I called again, this time louder. Again, no reply.
"Where am I?" I cried.
"You're dreaming. Wake up." I thought. I tried, but nothing was happening.
"Help!" I cried as the song kept playing. I found the floor underneath me and pounded on it with my fists.
"Help me!!"
"Help!" I cried, sitting up straight, like I'd been electrocuted.
"Ashley! Ashley, calm down, it's okay." John was in front of me. I let out a breath.
"Wh-what happened?" I asked, catching my breath. He stood and helped me up as well.
"I came to see how you were. When I got here, your door was open and you were passed out on the floor." He explained, looking worried. I hated having everyone look at me that way, but I guess he was right to worry.
"It uh...happened again. Twice today now." I admitted, looking at my shoes.
"You haven't been with me today." He pointed out. I looked at him and tears stung my eyes.
"I know...I think they're just happening whenever now. I-I think I might be leaving really soon." I stammered, trying not to cry again. He pulled me into a hug and I went willingly.
"I think the others should know." He spoke after a moment. I looked up at him and nodded.
"I think you're right."