Chapter Text
Maggie freaked out at the idea of them getting arrested, which was probably for the best really, after John nearly got deported in ‘72 and Paul’s arrest in Japan in ‘80. Thus, permits were gotten and deals made with police over how to handle a rooftop concert at the Cavern. It was weird it was still open. A lot of the Hamburg places were gone, some even shut down when they were still there.
They decided on May ‘83, when it wouldn’t be freezing or sweltering. And hopefully not raining either. That was the trouble with outdoor concerts in England, after all.
The Cavern itself was more than accommodating. There was too much Beatles memorabilia all over the walls. Baby faced pictures staring back at them. The roof was better. And more fun.
The concert itself was kept pretty well under wraps until the day before, when everyone arrived in town, staying at their parents’/aunt’s house. There was a big to-do at the McCartney household, singing all the old songs they grew up with, their kids asking them to stop playing oldies and play “Don’t Stop Me Now” and “Go Your Own Way” or anything a bit more modern.
The next day the streets of Liverpool were abuzz with the news that all four Beatles were in town. They managed to sneak into the Cavern unnoticed, waiting for the equipment people to set up for them. They’d gotten together for a bit of practice and felt pretty confident it’d be okay. They didn’t have fancy backing tracks this time so they couldn’t do some of the iconic tracks they did at their real concerts back when “Four to Infinity” came out, still, even just with their usual instruments and an electric piano, they could do a lot of the hits.
They were all in various stages of quitting smoking cigarettes (in late ‘82 George called John on the phone in a panic and told him to stop smoking NOW, and John shrugged and said “okay”) but that was broken today, because nerves were a helluva thing, even for a supposedly low-key event like this.
“You think anyone will show up?” Ringo said.
“Erm, yeah,” Paul replied. “It’s us.”
“Guys!” Maggie called out from the door that led to a ladder to the roof. “It’s all set up!”
“Coming Mags!” Paul called back as they all stubbed their cigarettes out in the ashtray.
They climbed up the ladder and went out the trapdoor onto the roof. Paul first, then John, Ringo, and George.
As soon as Paul walked forward to his bass, a cheer started from the crowd on the street, which grew louder as the others popped their heads out and took their places. They smiled and waved at the hometown crowd in front of them. They picked up their instruments and gave ‘em a little tuning, and Ringo played a riff or two on the drums.
“Hi, Liverpool,” Paul said, taking the mike. A loud whoop was his response, and then the audience quieted down. The assassin bit was quite famous lore now. Good. “We’re back at the Cavern!”
Another cheer.
“It’s a free Beatles concert, yeah,” Paul continued. “Just thought it’d be fun to play more roofs. We would do a great roof tour of Britain but we’re busy people, so you lucky sods got us back for tonight. Alright. Hit it Ringo!”
They played and it was fun and casual. If they messed up a bit they went back and did it again, and the audience laughed and cheered and sang along. It was casual, like the real old days, except they didn’t bring any sandwiches on stage. John jumped around like he did back in the day and they all laughed, and the crowd grew as word spread. They ended on “Hey Jude,” with Paul teaching the crowd the four part harmony. There were news people there now, just pointing cameras at them, taking pictures and video. Maybe it’d be nice to have for posterity.
And at the end, they put their instruments down, Ringo hopped to the front, and they put their arms around each other and took a bow.
“BEATLES FOREVER! BEATLES FOREVER!” The crowd chanted.
“For as long as you’ll have us, baby,” John said into the microphone, and everyone screamed back at him.
~~~
Back inside, they gave each other hugs and kisses on the cheek, and soon enough they were on their way back home.
“We might do another album,” John said to Yoko on the flight back. “Paul and Ringo wanna do some kind of movie, too. What do you think?”
Yoko leaned on his shoulder and smiled at him gently. “I think that’d be beautiful.”
“You do?”
“You love them, very much, and they love you,” Yoko said, a bit too seriously. “They are very fortunate.”
“I love you too.”
“I know. I love you. I’m not jealous. This is what free love is about, yes? We are beautiful together, and so are the Beatles. I think all of us are very fortunate to have you, John. I still think about it sometimes. I have nightmares about you being shot, about your image being stolen and sullied, about the pain and loss. I think about Sean and Julian losing you so young, and George never making up with you. And I think about you. I think about what a tragedy, a senseless tragedy, it would’ve been.”
John wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss. “I’m here, love. I’m here.”
“I know, love.”
~~~
They got together at Christmas up in Scotland again at the end of ‘83. Someone had been tying mistletoe up all over the place, and that’s how John and Paul ended up snogging in a corner they’d wandered off too.
“I’d be a bit more careful if I were you,” George said, and the two of them snapped apart. “You’re lucky it’s us and not the wife.”
“Don’t you remember anything?” John asked snottily. “You are the wife.”
George rolled his eyes and slung an arm around Ringo. “Oh right. The unappreciated wives.”
“Should we whack 'em with a broom?” Ringo asked.
“Eh, it’s Christmas,” George shrugged.
Paul leaned forward and gave each of them a peck with a goofy smile. “Merry Christmas, lads.”
“Merry Christmas, Macca,” Ringo replied.
“God bless us,” John said in a squeaky voice. “Every one.”
There was a Beatle hug under the mistletoe, one with a big squeeze, because they all knew they could’ve been celebrating their third Christmas without John. And they were instead together, celebrating their first Christmas as ex-smokers, with hopefully many more Christmases and birthdays and concerts to come. And hell, maybe another album or two, because it’d been a few years, and the kids were a little bit older, and they were ready to go again, try something new, something different. Paul wanted to actually try to do a rock opera or tell a story through an album again.
But for right now, they didn’t have to do anything. They could just hold each other and say “I love you, happy Christmas,” and feel warm and fuzzy and glad that they were friends again, and even if they weren’t literally together all of the time like back in the touring days, they were still the closest friends in the world.