Chapter Text
Waking up wasn't an unusual affair at his age, sometimes it seems like Paul is doing more sleeping then not anyway. Sometimes he's surprised he's even woken up. Though, usually when he is waking up it's with John, it isn't to the walls of his 1969 home, or in his '69 bed, OR with his '69 fiance's voice singing along to a song downstairs. Paul's whole body jerks in shock and he smacks his face against the bedside table.
"FUCK," he yells, tumbling straight out of bed. His limbs jerk against the sheets and his foot doesn't even make it to the ground. He's caught in the blankets laying on the floor when he hears the singing stop and music turn down.
"Paul!" Linda's voice calls, "You okay, Sweetheart?"
"M' fine!" He yells back on instinct.
But he was certainly not fine, he was going fucking insane. His late-wife was calling his name from downstairs. He was in a bedroom he hasn't seen in almost 50 years! Paul is used to vivid dreams but this was on a totally different planet. It felt real. Laying on the floor in a pile of blankets, he breathes.
The sun is streaming in through the window the same way he remembers. The soft yellow curtains frame the window just the same. It catches the wrinkles in the blankets just the same. The walls show the same circle pattern they did 50 years ago. One moment he's still blinking himself awake and the next hes got a pile of dog right in his face. Through the licking he sees the puffy fur and it makes his heart stop. He maneuvers his body into a sitting position pushing the dog off his chest and to his lap. Then they stare at each other.
"Martha…" He whispers, awe struck at the sight before him. She tilts her head to the side excitedly and nudges his hand with her nose. She paws at him and the sight of it cuts through the pure confusion clouding Paul's mind. It makes his heart ache and he wraps his arms around her body. He buries his face into the fur of her neck and feels the way his fluff drags on his cheek. He doesn't care about anything else right now, he can give his dog a hug again. He might be dead.
Eventually, she wiggles away and he sits staring as she moves about the room. He tilts his head and the shoes in the closet are the exact same as his old pairs, except now they are clean and shining. Paul pulls himself to his feet with ease he hasn't felt in a very long time and the deep pit in his stomach only grows. Shoving off the blankets in agitation his stumbles towards the vanity, which is also in the exact same spot.
The mirror shows himself staring back, if himself staring back was about 50 years younger. The wrinkles which used to be at the forefront are almost completely gone and instead his beard is back. Blankly, he scans his face and catches sight of the throbbing bruise forming on his forehead. His hands go across his face dragging the skin and watching it go back into place. He finds the bruise and pushes hard. He lets out a hiss. It hurt like hell, but there was just no fucking way.
He stares for an almost daft amount of time before he whirls around. He flies through the room franticly pulling different objects out, throwing clothes across the bed, checking notebooks for something different, but everything is the same as he remembers. From the bedding to the boxes at the back of the closet all the same. He can barely process the image that is forming in his mind. Martha, his dog who has been dead for over 40 years, jumps around him in his frenzy. It knocks him out of the state and when he stops she does as well. Her sitting there staring at him as he loses his mind. There is so much happening his mind is blank. Stinking to the floor, he sits there and sits there.
Until the opening of a door causes him to jump. Paul looks toward the wooden door which has now opened a bit wider, enough so that Martha pushes her way out of the room. From the crack he sees Heather at six years old, looking down at him. Her eyes are round as the moon as she takes in the absolute disaster that is the room.
"Mommy wanted me to come bring you down for breakfast," she says still looking around the room. "You made a big mess."
He looks at her and the room, "I guess I did."
Heather retreats and Paul sits there a little longer before the hears the stomping up the stairs. Moments later the door is pushed open and above him is Linda. He sits in straight shock.
"What in the world is going on here? What happened to your face?" There's Linda, his Linda. She looks the same as he remembers. Her blonde hair is cut the same way, her eyebrows tilt down the same way, her mouth is curved the same way, everything's the same same same and it's almost too much. There's just no way.
"Well?" She asks, eyebrows raised.
"I don't… just, I.." and the heartbreak must show on his face because she softens.
"Oh, what's wrong, honey?" She asks, getting on her knees next to him and grabbing his arm. And, it's real like Martha was. He feels her fingers dig into his clothes and press on his skin. The tips of her fingers graze the bruise next to his temple. He isn't at home anymore with his husband. He's with someone he loved and lost.
He turns his face towards Linda looking her up and down before pulling her into a hug. As Paul leans into her he realizes she smells the same too. They sit there for a while, Paul taking in the warmth of someone he missed for so long. She's wearing one of her favorite sweaters a soft purple one. In the future he doesn't know where its gone but, like Linda, it's before him again. Linda gets anxious eventually and she pulls back.
"What's going on? … is everyone okay?" She asks, searching his face for a hint. Looking into her blue eyes squeezes his chest and he breaks eye contact.
"Everyone's okay Linda," Paul mutters. "I'm sorry." He thinks to say, after remembering the state of the room.
"Okay…" She knows better then to push the topic he's moved on from. "You're going to be late," She frowning as she glances down at him. "That is if you are going to the studio?" Staring down at his pajamas and obvious distress.
Paul jerks, "Yes! I'm going!" He doesn't really know what is happening but he doesn't want to take any chances. Since, just maybe he isn't dead, why would a dead person have to go to the studio, and, on that note, why would Heather be dead? It leaves him with little options. He's onto the extremely accurate hallucination theory or the time travel theory. Neither seem particularly convincing but here he is. He could do something drastic but he doesn't want to take any chances being wrong about it being a hallucination.
"Then you need to get dressed now, and you are picking this." She gestures around, "up after work and telling me what is happening." She finally stands as Paul starts rushing putting on clothes. His emotions have been going up and down so rapidly with how whatever is going on continues to happen he won't be getting anymore stable. He glances at the clock and it was much later then he'd usually be ready to go from the looks of it. On top of being completely wrong he's going to be late. He grabs a shirt he remembers quite liking and hurries to change and everything is exactly as he's remembered.
Linda's already gone downstairs when he stumbles down after her. Shoving food in his mouth. While he's eating he studies Linda and Heather. He takes them in as they chat and smile around him like old times and give no indication that they know anything different then it should be. They shot little glances in his direction every so often and he puts on a smile for them when the only thing he really wants to do is scream into a pillow.
If it's one thing Paul doesn't like it's not knowing what is happening, hes anxious and doesn't know what to do with himself. He wills his hands not to move and his feet not to tap. What Paul wants is to be with his husband, instead he meets the eyes of Linda and guilt consumes him. Quickly, he gives Heather a kiss on the forehead and Linda another hug before he's running out the door to the car.
Fumbling until he finally gets the car on a sets off for the studio. The Studio… Paul takes in the late 60's cars surrounding him. The old way all the signs are written and without a phone in sight. If he's had any doubts they've well and vanished. With the window rolled down he takes in the chilly air around him and the smell of London, another thing that he hasn't smelt in years.
He's getting more and more convinced, he's in the past, or another bloody universe for all he knows, with a women who loves him in a way he can't anymore. He loves her still of course, with all his heart. They braved so many years together and he doesn't know what kind of man he'd be without her. But that's just it, isn't it? She changed him, her death, his whole life after it, changed him. He found John again, he'd married him. Now, all those nights he spent with her talking about their fears and their plans were gone for her, but remained with him. She was his first marriage, the mother of his kids for god sake.
His thoughts stumble, his kids. He grips the stirring wheel tightly. Are his kids gone? Erased from existence? Was he supposed to repeat everything the way he'd done the first time? He didn't want to erase what he had but he couldn't cheat Linda out of years he's already spent. He couldn't be a man he no longer was, could he? Would his kids would be gone if he couldn't lie to Linda for years? Pretend not to know all the secrets she would tell him for the chance?
Paul can't imagine pretending everything is fine when he's been married to John. His other half who knew him inside and out since they'd met. John, who he was going to see in less then thirty minutes, who had no clue that they had spent the greater half of their later years married to each other. Paul felt like throwing up.
Living without John was like living without breathing. He tried and those were the worst years of his life. Was he going to be forced to relive those years? The ones were they fought and fought until they couldn't look each other in the eyes anymore? The thought that Paul could change the future though caused a cold sweat to form on his neck. He also didn't want to risk changing anything without knowing he wouldn't be sent back to the future. What if it had all changed once he got back? If he changed something and John was no longer apart of the future he was might go back to what would he do? Die all over again probably.
He landed on acting normal as he pulled into the studio. At least normal for the time. He was going to be a right ass but with how stressed he was it probably wouldn't be hard and hopefully with how they are fighting at the moment it wouldn't cause too many weird looks. With the looming figure of the studio in front of him he walks in.
He nods to people who he's forgot the names of and people he hasn't seen for decades making his way towards the studio. His skin feels wrong on his own body, it's crawling all over but he has to do this. Before he even gets inside, he sees George Martin and almost loses his composure.
"Hello Paul," George says smiling slightly. He looks impossibly ordinary to Paul and it's only impossible to Paul himself.
"Morning," he squeaks rushing past him. He gets the urge to smack himself, that was not acting normal. He just needs to do something, anything to release the nervous energy that keeps building inside him.
He tries to regain composure as he pushes into the studio, dodging the cameras around. He spots everyone else, looking so young. He's the last one there, George and Ringo already chatting. Mal off to the side, chatting with one of the camera crew. Paul can see Yoko and John out of the corner of his eyes but he can't bring himself to look. The ache of being so far away from him, years apart even though they are feet away, hurts.
"Ello," he mumbles making his way over to his spot. Billy says it back and he paints on a smile. God, he is surrounded by dead people. He's on autopilot as he goes through the motions of setting himself up. His hands shake slightly as he does it. Once he's done almost collapses into the chair, trying to take deep breaths and tapping his foot. He stares at the wall trying to calm down his racing pulse.
"Aye so I suppose we'll be getting to work then?" George prompts from a few feet away when Paul stays quite.
"Yes, yes," Paul says but he realizes he's got no clue what song they are on. They are obviously on Let It Be but song? No clue. He hopes they can't notice the sweat crawling up his neck as he chews on his nail more.
"I've got the anvil all ready when you are," Mal calls from the other side of the room and Paul wants to cry. They were doing Maxwell's sliver hammer. They were doing one of the songs that caused Paul the most amount of stress possible. Paul had a very specific vision for this song and he knew it was good. He didn't want to let that go, the perfection he knew everyone of his band mates could reach. He also knew, now, he was pushing when he'd make them play it over and over again. Paul knew though, that they could do it.
He remembers when George finally yelled at him, years down the line. He'd read the interviews and knew everyone hated it. He had known, of course, that he pushed them. He could see them roll their eyes and could tell they got more and more quiet every time he called another run through but he thought they could make it better. That they could reach the other side but he had been wrong. Being here having to relive it makes him feel sick. He can only hope they see his nervousness as agitation.
"Paul?" Someone calls and so they start. They go at it and Paul easily slips into calling out the bits that don't quite sound like he pictured. He honestly can't tell if he's over doing it when he mentions George's playing for the third time in the next couple hours.
"George, Listen, it was off and we need to do it again," Paul starts gesturing at his hands. George rolls his eyes and glances away. He's prepared for a long winded explanation on the tines details when they are both interrupted.
"Aw, Lay off him, Luv," John jumps in from across the room whit no trace of humor in his voice and dead silence descends upon them, no one says a word. Ringo, George and Yoko's heads slowly turn towards John. George's jaw could be touching the ground for how far it dropped and Ringo's eyes almost left his skull. Yoko was the most surprised he'd ever seen from her where she was beside John. Her eyebrows have risen and her hands grip the fabric of his shirt causing it to wrinkle.
The camera crews has no idea what to do. They didn't say a word as they look at them, waiting for a cue. George Martin and Mal both sat staring at John like he'd been replaced with an alien and Paul find himself hoping maybe they weren't all that wrong.
Paul, for the first time that day, meets John's eyes and stands from his chair, making it scrap across the ground. He stomps over to John, pulls him up by the shirt and halls him out of the room. John doesn't fight back as he is dragged away. Paul finds a random room, pushes John in and slams the door behind them.
He whirls around and points a finger at John, "What the fuck was that about?" He looked at John and let it sink in. Paul let himself hope that the panicked look in John's eyes meant something.
"It's just habit or, no," John starts, stumbling.
"Habit?" Paul asked breathless, he lets the love he feels for John seep into his face.
He doesn't know who went first but they surge forward and meet each other in the middle. He let the familiarity seep into his bones. The way their lips touch as they have a hundred times before in his future. Paul looked into John's eyes and he knew the love he felt was being reflected right back at him. Any of the reservations from before have left John, he holds himself higher and looks at Paul without reservation.
"The past," they both say, pulling away at the same time. Paul is so happy for a moment before reality sunk in.
"We need to make a plan. We can't change anything or else-" He saw John's smile wince. "John…"
"It's a bit late for that."
"John!"
"Paul!"
"This is serious we could be ruining the future right now!" He whisper yells. After all the worrying Paul did, John just went and ruined it all. "Who did you tell?!"
"Oooh, Yoko," he said tapping his chin with non-nonchalance.
"You told fucking Yoko!?" Paul was gripping his hair and staring at John in dismay. Who was starting to become impatient right back at him.
"Yes, I told 'fucking Yoko'," He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Paul.
"But! JOHN! The future???" Paul felt like he was losing his mind. If the future changed who knew what could happen.
"Calm down. We lived those lives and I'm not living it all over again. Yoko deserves better then getting married to someone who knows what will happen! and is waiting to divorce her in 25 years," John says throwing his hands in the air.
"Well what if we've, I don't know John, RUINED THE FUTURE? God! What couldn't go wrong? My children are all gone, They probably won't ever be alive because how are we supposed to have fucking sex at the exact right time again? With my wife, who I know will die by the way! Now, YOUR son won't be alive because YOU WONT GET WITH HIS MOTHER! It's that a bit selfish? Not to mention our songs! My songs! How am I supposed to make the same music? What if I change something?? What if it's worse this time and doesn't connect with people?" Paul has his mouth open to continue before John shoves a finger to Paul's lips.
Frowning angrily, John says, "Well fuck you too. You've worked yourself up to being a bit selfish yourself. Mr. 'What about my songs. What about my kids.' Well, what about your wife?" John mocks his voice.
Paul's eyebrows crease even more as he tries to get more words in before being shushed again, "Ah! Nope because your being stupid as hell. And I'm pulling my Paul McCartney needs to listen up card, got it?" Paul does not think this is the right time to pull this but he closes his mouth while glaring right into John's eyes.
"Fine," Paul forces out, he doesn't stop his foot from tap tap tapping away though. John looks him right in the eye.
"I am not being selfish. I know Yoko, I was married to her for decades, and I know she would want the truth right away." Paul raises his eyebrows and John pulls his finger back for a moment.
"Your don't think Yoko would want to meat her son?" John put the finger right back in place.
"Rude. It's just like you said, the moment we've gone to the past, our kids were gone! I know Yoko was rethinking it before I even told her about the future, with how I was acting. Just like Linda's wondering what sort of nut job she's about to marry after whatever meltdown you had this mornin'. Just because you don't trust your wife doesn't mean I don't trust mine!"
Paul lets it sink in. Knowing there's an ugly truth, one he hasn't wanted to face. Paul feels the fight leave his body replaced with a empty feeling instead. Paul slide his body down the wall until he was sitting with legs splayed out in front of him.
"You really think all our kids are dead?" Paul's voice breaks as he asks the question, looking down at his lap. John slides down next to him.
"No, I think our kids are out there living in a different future from the one we are making now… If the future we are from didn't exist, we wouldn't be here, right?" John said sliding an arm around Paul's waist and Paul slide an arm right back around John's.
"'Suppose not… but, what if your, y'know, wrong. What if we go back to the future and they are all gone?"
"I think you know what it took to take us back here. We aren't going back there." John leaned into him, staring at the same spot on the wall as him. And Paul knows John is right, they aren't going back. As he sits the guilt starts to creep in.
"I'm sorry, John."
"Ya ya I am too."
"Y'know, Martha is back at my place."
"Mrs. Martha?! It's a gift from god that is," John laughs happily and it fills Paul with warmth. He lets that warmth fill his bones and chase the cold out as they take in each other's company.
They are sitting in silence for a bit more before Paul breaks the silence. "What should we do now?" Paul asks.
"Ughhhhhhh."
"We need to make a plan!"
"The plan is we go back to my place," John says winking and rubbing his hand where it's around Paul's waist. Paul rolls his eyes irritably and stands up. John, in response, slides further down the wall until he's laying in the floor.
He looks up at Paul with pleading eyes, "Just to make a plan, my love!"
"Fine then," Paul starts towards the door before whirling around, "No funny business until the plan is set though!"
John stands up and follows Paul out of the the room, slinging his arm around Paul's shoulders. Paul turns to tell him off, there is no way anyone would think this is normal for 1969, but when Paul looks at John he knows John needed it. John had thought he was all alone, just like Paul had and John had never been very good on his own. So he prepares himself for the inevitable and to completely destroy any future familiar to them, when they walk into the studio again.
"Look who's finally back," Ringo calls jokingly before trailing off again. He was obviously going to play off whatever happened before but the arm around Paul's shoulders stopped that. The cameras have focused back on them and so did all the eyes in the room.
Paul jumps in before anything like the silence before could happen, "Sorry everyone but I'm calling it early. We can pick up Maxwell's Hammer another time, ya?" Paul can feel John dramatically shudder against him at the mention of doing it again. Paul elbows him in the stomach. Thankfully the cameras crew got his cue to shut off the filming. Which they all did, looking at at each other to make sure everyone was doing the same.
George looked completely lost, "What the fuck."
"This one's bedtime am I right? I mean with how he's been acting!" John went over to grab their stuff and Yoko, leaving Paul all by himself .
Paul grimaces, "Right, y'know sorry about that earlier."
"Your sorry." George looks like he was staring into another dimension. Paul supposes he was, a different time at least.
"Aye"
George was silent until John came back over. Paul nervously chewing on his nails turned towards him.
"Let's go then ya?"