Paul McCartney wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, as he put the bass back on the stand, and turned. An orchestra of screaming girls surged through the seats in the concert hall. They're screams shook the whole room it seemed. The bassist looked over to George and John next to him, and when they all took a bow, more screams erupted. Paul gave a smile and put his lips to the microphone; every girl visibly swooned.

"Goodnight, thank you for having us-"

"You should be thankin' us you know!" John gave a shout and a shrill laugh. The audience shrieked with delight at his outburst.

The Beatles gave once last bow and left the stage.

Paul, as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off a little, wondered why John teased the audience like that. Even if the girls liked John's cheeky demeanour and witty remarks, Paul didn't want to risk getting any bad reviews if the rhythm guitarist took it too far; it could ruin their reputation.

The four musicians made their way out of the back, into a rather cold, rather dark alley, where the puddles sparkled from the street lights and their breaths took wings in the form of smoke.

"Where's the car?" Paul heard Ringo ask quietly.

"Must be late," George answered. He struck a match and lit everyone a cigarette while they pondered.

Paul gave sigh. "We'll just have to wait inside till it comes then," and made his way to the back door once again.

"Can't we just wait out 'ere?" John moaned.

"Nah, mate, say if some fans find us; we'll be ripped to shreds!" Said the bassist, as he sucked on the cigarette tiredly.

"Well I don't wanna go back in there," John argued back. He shoved a hand in his coat pocket defiantly.

Paul was far too weary to quarrel now. He shrugged, "Suit yourself," and began to walk back to the door, Ringo and George behind him.

"What's the worst that could happen, McCartney!" He laughed and stepped backwards into the darkness, just as the car came speeding down the alley and hit him.

When he heard the screech of tires and the thud of a body hitting the floor, Paul felt his heart stop. He turned and screamed.

"John!"

It was silent for a moment after that. No one knew what had just happened, no one could comprehend. But only for that one second.

The bassist sprinted over to John's limp form sprawled out on the cold ground like a discarded rag doll.

"Oh my God, Johnny. Fuck! What the fuck!" Paul was deaf to his own cries. Ringo had to pull him back when he smothered the rhythm guitarist, as George rushed for a phone to call an ambulance. The driver stood at the door of the car in shock.

"It's your fault, you fucking bastard! You fucking cunt! You hit him!" Paul screamed.

He threw the drummer off him angrily and rolled John onto his back. Not a scratch on him, but he still wouldn't wake up.

"Come on, Johnny, don't fucking die on me. Come on, Lennon!"

Paul took John's face in his hands. He put an ear to the auburn-haired man's chest and listened for a heart beat.

Thump-Thump-Thump.

It was faint, but it was there.

"Oh my God," Paul was weeping now. His body, racked with shakes and sobs, jittered erratically. He felt two pairs of hands restrain him and pull him back. He throttled wild like an animal.

"No! John!"

"Let us get him into the ambulance, son. He's in good hands now." A deep voice said.

Paul watched them lift John into the ambulance quickly.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed, "it's all my fault."

(Next chapter already written and ready to post. Thank you for reading and please leave a review telling me what you thought! Sorry if this first chapter was brief- I thought it would be a good place to end it. Future updates will be longer!)