AN: My first fic, be nice! :D I don't actually believe in PID, but it does make a good idea for a story...

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own the Beatles...

Summary: What if the Paul Is Dead rumors were true?

November 1966

" Fucking hell, STOP! "

Three men stopped playing their instruments for what seemed to be the hundredth time and looked at the man that had shouted without even trying to hide their annoyance. They had been trying to record John's new song, Strawberry Fields Forever, since the beginning of the afternoon. It was now almost 5 o'clock, and so far, no take had been good enough for the witty Beatle. There was always something that bothered him and he wasn't afraid to say it. Paul was even starting to think that it was very unfair that he was always said to be the most bossy and perfectionnist in the studio, when clearly John could give him a run for his money when he wanted to.

"Now, what was wrong with that one, John?" George sighed.

"Yeah, it sounded all right to me!" Ringo said, shrugging.

"It wasn't fucking all right at all!" John shouted. "The bass sounded utterly crap!"

"Thanks John, I really appreciate it!" The bassist replied angrily, hurt by his lover's words.

"Well, I'm sorry but it's true!"

"Well maybe I could manage to record a decent bassline if my hands weren't starting to feel numb because we've been playing the same fucking song for almost five hours!" Paul shouted back, finally cracking.

"You're saying that like we've never spent five hours recording one of your songs before, Macca! You're as bad as me!"

Paul could not deny that, so he just sat down, moodily deposing his bass on the floor. After a few seconds of silence, he stood up and approached John. He put a hand on his shoulder and said in what he hoped was a calm voice:

"Look, luv, that's not the point anyway. Your attitude is just really not helping to get the record done. Just relax, yeah?"

John just snorted and got closer to the mike again.

"Come on let's do this."

"All right."

Paul picked up his bass, managing to send a reassuring smile in John's direction. George sighed and stood up too.

"Okay, on three!" George Martin said from his control booth.

They started playing once more, but barely thirty seconds passed before John let out a frustrated yell again.

"Okay Paul, now I'm really starting to think you're doing it on purpose just to piss me off!"

"Damn it, John!" Paul cried, raising his arms in the air in frustration. "Now you're starting to piss me off, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the way I'm playing!"

"Yes there is, you're playing way too fast"

"Well, George and Ringo sure don't seem to think so, don't they?" Paul spat back. "You know what? If you think I suck that much, why don't you just get another bassist, hey? Maybe he'll do the job since I obviously can't!"

"God, you're such a girl sometimes, Paul!" John laughed as Paul walked away and grabbed his coat. "You're not really gonna leave because of that, are you?"

"Look, I'm sorry if I don't have the heart to be insulted again! I've had enough for today!" Paul said shortly. "Call me tomorrow if you grow up and put a fucking smile on your face."

He turned towards George and Ringo and gave them a small wave. "Bye guys."

"See you Paul." They mumbled.

"Oh, and John? I know we had planned to meet at my place later, but I think it's best if you don't come. "

They exchanged a last look, and Paul finally walked out, just when John began to open his mouth to talk to him. The hurt look in his lover's eyes had been enough to make him feel guilty.

"Well, good job John!" George said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I know, I guess I took it a little too far... " John conceided.

"A little too far? John, you basically told Paul that he sucked!" Ringo exclaimed.

"I know, all right? I was just mad this morning, I had a fight with Cyn, and I guess I just took it out on him, on all of you in fact... I'll call him to apologize later." John sighed, running a head through his hair.

Paul probably hated him right now, which he didn't blame him for. How could he have said that to him? He truly was a git sometimes.

"Well I guess that's it, then. We'd better go too. I'll see you tomorrow." George said with a small smile.

"Yeah"

The three men slowly got up and left Abbey Road too.

Paul was driving, still fuming. Maybe he was overreacting a bit, but John's attitude had been really unpleasant, and he didn't have to endure it. He drove silently, faster than usual, just wanting to get home as soon as possible. Rain was pouring so he had a little bit of trouble seeing the road clearly, and once his car skidded to the right when he took a particularly sharp turn. He had managed to get back on the road safely just in time to avoid a car that was coming on the other side of the road.

"Few, that was close! Better be careful! " Paul thought, suddenly nervous to be driving in such bad conditions. And his troubled mind was not helping him to concentrate either.

One of his wipers was having problems, causing Paul to curse under his breath. Why today of all days? He had to bend over a little bit to the left to try to see in the other half of the windshield, but it was really not the best way to be driving. Paul had to laugh incredulously when a car started to overtake him.

"God is he crazy? Now is so not the time to overtake! I can barely see anything!" Paul thought, shaking his head.

Suddenly he felt himself lose control of the Aston Martin, which was skidding dangerously to the left. Cursing in fright, he stepped madly on the brakes, turning the steering wheel in the other direction. The next thing he knew he was violently crashing into a tree. He yelled as his body was pushed forward and his head hit the steering wheel forcefully. After a minute, Paul managed to sit up with difficulty, his head spinning, and raised a trembling hand to his face. His nose was bleeding madly and he fought really hard not to pass out. He falt a stabbing pain in his legs, which he realised were totally stuck.

"God, you've got to be kidding me!" Paul moaned, groaning in pain. Everything hurt!

As he looked around for a way to get out of the car, his eyes caught something that caused him to panic. The front of the Aston Martin that had hit the tree was slowly catching fire.

"Fucking hell, DAMN IT, I've got to get out of here!" Paul cried in shock.

He tried madly to get his legs to cooperate and to get them out from under the steering wheel, but it was no use. He was truly stuck. Paul tried to lift himself up, using all the energy that was left in his weakening body.

"God, I'm gonna die, I'm really gonna die in this car!" Paul thought in despair, fighting back tears of exhaustion.

Paul kept trying and trying even if he had no energy left, but the fire grew and finally reached the gas tank, making the Aston Martin explode. Paul McCartney was no more.

Oh no poor Paul! :S Please review! Should I continue?