I, Macca Evans, was sitting at my computer typing my latest FanFiction when I was taken back in time by my favorite person in the whole world.

I was writing about The Beatles and some of their fun times that came into my mind while I was lying in bed that morning when George Harrison, the quiet Beatle, just appeared in my kitchen.

I was startled by him, but he told me not to be frightened and to take his hand. Who in their right mind would deny George Harrison when he told you to take his hand?

I sure wasn't gonna be that person, so I took his hand and then POP, I was standing in the middle of Abbey Road . I was too stunned to move and I didn't realize I was no longer with George until there was a loud screech of tires. I looked at the car and saw that it was George, in his red psychedelically painted Mini. He got out of his car and I was expecting him to start screaming at me from the expression his face, but instead he took my hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, "I didn't see you. I didn't hit you did I?" I stared at him and shook my head slowly.

It hadn't been two seconds after George stopped that a speeding car came tearing down the road and running a red light. George looked at me with idea eyes.

"You save my bloody life!" he said. I looked at him and the street where the driver had managed to crash into a telephone poll and not George's car that would have been in the middle of his path as he crossed the intersection.

"Um, OK," I said, unsure of what to say to my idol.

"What can I do to repay you?" he asked pulling my over to his car.

"You don't have to do anything," I said, already smacking myself in the face.

"No!" he protested, "I must do something! You clearly know who I am, and you know what the rest of the world would have done if anything happened to me. I have to repay you in some way."

"No, Mr. Harrison, you don't have to really." I said, "I didn't know that was going to happen and I just stopped in the middle of the road because I was thinking about something I was planning on writing about." I bit my lip. What I said wasn't really a lie. I did plan on writing about this.

"So you're a writer?" George asked shoving me into his car. He walked around to the driver seat and started down the road again.

"Um, Yes I suppose you could call them that," I said. I never thought I was good enough to be a professional writer.

"What do you write about?" George asked as he turned down a road that led to a row of nice office buildings.

"Well I write about different things," I said vaguely.

"What's one of them?" George pried. I sighed and tried to think of something other than The Beatles to tell him about.

"Have you ever seen Doctor Who?" I asked hoping I wasn't too far into the future with this.

George nodded, "Yep, me and Ringo watched it just yesterday," he said, "Fab show." I giggled and looked at my lap.

I never thought George Harrison was one for Doctor Who. He glanced over at me and chuckled.

"What's so funny over there?" he asked poking my hip. I laughed again and covered the spot absently.

"Nothing, I just never thought you liked Doctor Who." I said looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

"Well do you write about it in like, news papers and magazines?" he asked, going back to talking about my writing.

I shook my head, "No, I write about the Doctor and companions that I make up." I said, "I like to think of it as writing the future series." And I did. I wrote my own doctor sometimes. I made my own companions and aliens to fight.

George nodded, "That sounds fascinating," he said looking over at me as we stopped in front of a tall building, "I'd like to read one sometime." He said smiling before he waved for me to follow him.

I took a deep breath and got out of his car. He took my hand and pulled me into the nice business-y building. I felt a bit nervous, not because we were in a nice place and I might embarrass myself, but because George Harrisonwas holding my hand.

He pulled me up to the front desk and asked for someone's room I didn't recognize for a moment. The woman behind the counter didn't even look twice at George as she told him where to go.

"Third Floor, take a left, and then it's the Seventh door on the right." She said sounding bored. George nodded and thanked her by name before he pulled me toward the lift.

We entered and stood there, still holding hands as we slowly made our way to the third floor.

I found I couldn't stop staring at him. How in the World did I end up here? Oh yeah, George brought me here. Speaking of which why didn't he know me?

I bit my lip and figured I'd wait to ask him about it as the lift opened and he tugged me out into the long hallway. We took a left and then George counted the doors until he reach Seven. He knocked on the Seventh and bit his lip as he waited.

The door opened and I was standing face to face with Mal Evans. I remembered that was the name George gave the receptionist, but I for some reason didn't recognize him.

"Who's the bird?" Mal asked nodding to me. George looked blank for a second before he responded.

"Um, She's called…" he looked at me helplessly and I smirked.

"Macca," I said nodding. Mal laughed before he gave me a look of humor.

"You can't be serious," he said, "You're actually called Macca?"

I made a face at him, "Well my name's McKenzie, but everyone I know calls me Macca." I said looking over at George, who shrugged and seemed a bit love struck.

"Well come on in then," Mal said moving out of the way to let us in. We walked in and I had a hard time not flipping out.

Paul McCartney was sitting on a couch against the wall across the room playing a guitar and singing Blackbird, one of my favorites.

I think I squeaked because Paul looked up at me and George was stifling laughter. Ringo Starr had been sitting in an arm chair reading a new paper before I interrupted. He looked at me too.

"Who's the bird, Harri?" John Lennon asked as he walked out of another room. He was only looking at me as he walked up.

"She's called Macca," George said, squeezing my hand as John got closer. I looked at him, wondering if he felt a bit protective over me.

"No kidding," John said with a smirk, "Paul, some one stole your name!"

Paul strolled up to us and gave me a charming smile, "Well how'd she do that then?" he asked giving me a wink.

"She's called Macca," John said. Paul rolled his eyes at John before waltzing up to me and holding out his hand.

"Paul McCartney." He said with another wink. I shook his hand shyly and he kissed the top of it.

"Oh let her alone, McCartney," Ringo said walking up. I looked at him and gave him a grateful smile as he extended his hand.

"Ringo Starr." He said, "Nice to meet you love." I nodded and George cleared his throat and squeezed my hand again. I looked over at him and he innocently smiled back at me.

"Now, leave her alone," Mal said, "She's George's girl now all of you back off." George and I both blushed madly as John only moved closer to me.

"She can change her mind can't she?" he asked reaching his arm around. I didn't see where it went and I didn't know what he was going to do either. He never got chance to however because George jerked me to the side away from him. He gave me an apologetic look before he looked at John with an annoyed look.

"Leave 'er alone," George hissed. I gave his hand a squeeze this time and he looked at me.

"Anyroad," Mal said, "Are we ready to go then?"

"Go?" I asked looking at George. He gave me a sheepish smile.

"She speaks!" John exclaimed pointing at me. George rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him," Paul said still putting on the charming act. I knew better with him though.

"I was planning on it," I said before I looked back at George, "Where're we going?"

"We're going to have a concert." George said, "And then we're coming back here to spend the rest of the night."

"And where's here exactly?" I asked biting my lip. George smirked.

"This is Mal's place," he said swinging our hands as we walked toward the door, "We come here whenever because all the fans don't know about it." I nodded my understanding as we all walked to the lift.

George and I were the first ones in and we were crammed into the corner. I was pressed back against George with my hand pinned with his against my back. I could feel his breath on my neck and it made me shiver.

I was extremely thankful when the lift opened again and everyone filed out.

George led me to a big van and he let me in first. I climbed into the back seat and he sat next to me with Paul next to George in the back. John and Ringo sat in the next row and then Mal was driving.

George grabbed my hand again and I watched his hand as his thumb stroked over the top of my hand. I looked at him and I suddenly realized I had no idea what year it was.

I looked at George and noticed he had long hair and a mustache. So not my favorite Beatle era, but I'd live.

"Mr. Harrison," I whispered, "Where's this concert at?"

George chuckled, "You can call me George you know," he said. Paul looked at me like he actually had a chance to snag me, "But it's on the EMI rooftop."

"It's not until later though," Ringo said turning in his seat to look at us, "We're finishing up our last album before we go up."

I was suddenly sad, my favorite band in the whole world were about to split up. But I was going to go to their last concert!

I was silent the rest of the trip, and I could tell that George wondered what was wrong. Once we pulled up to the EMI building and everyone got out of the car, he pulled me back a bit.

Mal parked the car in the parking lot and George and I got out once he was inside the building. George looked at me for a second before he tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Are you alright, McKenzie?" he asked gently. My heart fluttered when he called me by my real name.

"Erm," I squeaked. I cleared my throat and looked away from him as I felt heat rising to my face, "I mean, Yep! I'm just dandy!"

George laughed lightly, "Have we met somewhere before?" he asked stepping closer to me. I took in a sharp breath, and me at my computer with George popped into my head. How would he forget that? I forced myself to shake my head. If I'd learned anything from Doctor Who it was not to mess with the timeline of important people. George Harrison was a very important person.

"Are you sure?" he asked as his arm sliding around my waist. I was staring into his dark brown eyes and I couldn't breathe, "I know I've met you before. Your hand fits so well with mine."

I gasped when he leaned closer to me and closed his eyes. His lips just barely brushed mine before I jumped back. He looked at me with a hurt expression.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I'm- I mean I- I just can't and I'm sorry." I said as a pretty blonde woman walked up and wrapped her arms around George like I wasn't even there. He kissed her cheek before he looked at the woman and greeted her.

"And then there's her," I mumbled feeling a bit hurt. I walked away and over to the entrance. I reached my hand up to open the door when I realized I had something in my hand. Had I been holding that the whole time?

I looked at it and cocked my head to the side with a slight frown. I had a note in my hand with it.

This only works once, love so use it wisely.
Love,
George H. XXX

I giggled to myself and realized George had given me a way to go home. I really wanted to see The Beatles perform but as George and Pattie Boyd walked over to the door, holding hands; I made up my mind and pushed the little red button on the small metal thing in my hand. I closed my eyes and held my breath.