A/N- Well, here goes nothing. I hope Beatle Lover 19- 20- 1-18 isn't too pissed at me about my portrayal of her character, or using Anesia as a name... oh well. Without further musing from the slightly insane author, here is the story!

Disclaimer: It's called FANFICTION for a reason!

Dateline November 13, 1968

I sighed at my twin Kris, who currently was ranting- about John and Yoko. She never would shut up about them, and it was pissing me off. Even when we were at a family dinner (like now,) she would go on about "that bitch" and how "she's preventing me from meeting my John!" I was nearing the end of my rope.

Kris looked at me with annoyance. "Of course, Colleen isn't doing as you told her, mother," she simpered. "She's writing editorials instead of reporting." She, of course, failed to note that some of my editorials were very obviously pro- John and Yoko, which is why she mentioned it in the first place.

My mother turned her disapproving gaze on me, the effect made all the more annoying by the fact that her ice-blue eyes were the same as Kris's. "Why do editorials, Colleen? Your sister knows best, and she's a reporter!"

Well that did it. I was sick of being told that my sister knew what was best. In fact, my earliest memory was of picking strawberries while Kris chose an apple, only to be handed an apple by my mother who said, "Your sister knows best, Colleen!" Ever since then I had been forced to follow almost exactly in my sister's footsteps. Needless to say, I despised it, but I was too scared to do anything. Now, it was time to stage a small act of rebellion.

"If reporting is a better way to go, then why did I get a pass to the Beatles's press conference when Kris didn't?" I asked in a sarcastically polite tone.

My family fell into a shocked silence. Apparently, nobody had a good answer, until Kris suggested, "You must be in a relationship with the head of the paper to have conned him into giving you the pass."

I raised an eyebrow. "Dare I remind you," I began dryly, "that he is fifty-something years old... and married?"

Kris flipped her hand back-and-forth in the air. "I don't think you should go. And since there will be an extra pass, you should give it to me." Mother, father, and Kris looked at me expectantly.

"No," I stated.

My father scowled. "Colleen Lockheart, you will give that pass to your sister," he ordered.

Again I stated, "No."

My mother looked positively murderous. "Either you give that pass to your sister or you will be leaving this house," she threatened.

"Well," I said, "I'm not giving my pass to Kris."

"Then get out," mother demanded. "Just remember, though- your sister knows best."

I calmly stood up, grabbed my coat, and left my parent's house. Fortunately, there was nothing in there that I wanted to take anyways. I had been living in a flat with my friend Annabelle (who goes by Anesia) for the past three years. I had few to no positive memories of my parents' house either.

I hailed a taxi and told the driver my address. As we went along, my mind wandered back to my younger, pre-freedom years.

I suppose with a mother and father like my own, there is precious little good to remember from the first twenty years of my life. From a very young age, I had always been in the shadow of Kris (actually Kristen, but she hates that name.)

We were called the ideal set of twins- Kris, the older one of us by five minutes, was the 'dominant' twin, and I was the 'recessive' one. That means that basically Kris was headstrong, bold, and rather arrogant while I was unsure of myself, shy, and tended to blend in with the shadows. The truth of the matter was that I had been brainwashed into thinking that Kris was God and I was to do everything she said. That is no longer the case, thanks to Anesia and her friend (mine too now) Jean.

They met me when I was going into secondary. Well, they met Kris first, decided she was an asshole, ditched her and then met me. That was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

Anesia (or Annabelle if you want to piss her off) is extremely obsessed with wolves and rabbits. She reads fantasy a lot and would like to be famous by either being an author, an artist, a photographer, or a peace activist. She has billions of shawls and scarves all over the place- each one is different. Anesia has a twin too- her name is Kathleen, but she goes by Kase. She's younger by only a minute, but her calm personality was easily dominated by Kase's rambunctious one. Kase is best friends with Kris, so I would know.

Jean (or Jenny or Jennifer) loves dogs in a major way. She also reads fantasy, but more of the mythological aspect. She wants to be an adult romance writer, a peace activist (her and everyone else), or a musician. Jean has piles of stuffed dogs all over her place. She is the middle of three children. She's more act-first-think-later, but with Anesia and I around we balance out.

Lastly, there's me. I, obviously, am Colleen Lockheart. I almost obsessively will write my opinion on things. I already have minor fame via my editorials in the London Times, but I also write poetry sometimes (I think it's shit, but Anesia and Jenny disagree.) I think being famous would be a drag, so I don't plan on ever becoming a public servant. I love hats and I leave them in random places around the flat. I, obviously, have a twin named Kris.

The taxi showed up at my apartment, and I exited after paying the driver. I ran up five flights of stairs after that, and finally flung myself into the flat I share with Anesia.

"Honey I'm home!" I cry out, then promptly duck as a stuffed wolf is chucked at my head. Anesia hates it when I do that. I blame the fact that Mr. Next-Door does that every day and I have a tendency to mock people.

"Why must you do that?" Anesia asks me.

"Because it pisses you off!" I say cheerfully. Then I noticed she was wearing all black- not a good sign.

"What happened?" I inquire.

Anesia sighed and murmured, "Dave dumped me for some weird chick who lives in

San Francisco."

I make a sad face then state, "What an ass." Bear in mind the fact we live in bloody London.

Anesia nods and the two of us sit in contemplative silence for a moment. I never have much luck with dating, but Anesia always takes it very seriously, and breakups get her down too.

To distract her from her misery, I get up and start dancing around the main room. "What're you so happy about?" Anesia questions.

"Press conference! Press conference!" I cheered repeatedly. Eventually Anesia got up and began cheering with me.

This was a major, major deal in the press world (not to mention the regular one.) The Beatles had stopped giving large, group press conferences in 1966, and only after an enormous amount of pressure from multiple sides did they consent to this one. It was considered a great honor to even be a candidate to go, and an even greater honor to be allowed in. I was there because I was writing an editorial about the way certain people (i.e. the public's obsession, John and

Yoko) behaved in such a professional setting and how I felt about it. Anesia was going because she was the best photographer employed by The London Times. Jean staffed the building that was hosting the deal so she got in by default. My sister and Kase didn't have passes (yet) so they weren't going, but I would bet the universe they would get in somehow.

"I can't believe it's almost here!" Anesia cried. "It's almost tomorrow and that's the day!"

"I know!" I replied. "Which scarf are you wearing?"

"I have no idea," she admitted sheepishly. "What hat are you wearing?"

"The one that says 'EDITOR' in big huge letters on the front," I answered. "More importantly than that, what the hell are you wearing tomorrow?"

"Oh SHIT!" she exclaimed. "I never even thought of that!" Instantly, she began rushing around, picking up random articles of clothing and flinging them away just as quickly.

I watched her do that for quite some time, laughing my ass off while she ran around like a crazy person. After that, we arranged everything we would bring to the conference- believe you me, there was a lot- and went instantly to sleep, despite our growing excitement.

If we knew the amount of trouble that press conference would cause, we would've stayed at home.