A/N: Here's chapter 2 to "Tomorrow Never Knows'! Hope it catches your eye, all my lovely readers! :))

...An update to 'Follow the Sun' should hopefully be right around the corner as my initial goal is to get everything update at some point this month! May in New England means new flowers and budding leaves on trees. It's the month of renewal! :)

-Naturelover


"What do you mean, John's gone missing?!" a wide-eyed Mal shakily exclaimed in the face of the unnerving recent revelation brought forth courtesy of Paul. As quickly as he'd found out, the bassist had woken up the other Beatles in all his anxiety-fueled glory and now the three worriedly and fearfully stood before their two managers with the woe-inspired new development on things.

"I-I don't know… he just disappeared," Paul murmured sheepishly, his own voice quavering so much he could hardly get the words out.

"And he managed to get by the security guard?" Eppy asked, borderline incredulity beginning to surface within his inquisitive face.

"Well apparently!" Paul snapped, his voice escalating uncontrollably at the stupid question his manager had unthinkingly thought relevant enough to throw at him, "Do you see him anywhere? Do you see anything indicating otherwise?!"

"There's no sense in yelling, Paul," Mal muttered, visibly perturbed by the news, "I'll put in a call and see if he can be located. He couldn't have gone off that far."

"It's been nearly forty-five minutes!" Paul argued, "You'd be surprised how fast the lazy git can move, especially when driven by internal forces."

"Bloody ridiculous…" Eppy muttered as Mal moved towards the telephone, "I turn my back on you boys for less than ten minutes and this happens! Wasn't the scandal enough of a mood changer for you all?"

"You're asking the wrong Beatles, Eppy!" George countered sharply, "Kindly keep in mind that the rest of us are still here unlike yers truly!"

Brian shook his head not seemingly able to process the lead guitarist's words as fair as they were, "This is just so maddening, I… I don't know what to do!"

"Well it wouldn't hurt much to calm down firstly and allow us time to think!" George responded, softening the edge in his voice finally with the onset of his much-needed, levelheaded reasoning, "Getting yer knickers in a twist isn't going to solve anything."

"Yeah," Ringo contributed, his voice presenting itself with a fresh wave of characteristic optimism, "We'll find 'im, Eppy!"

Brian's face consequently purged all traces of exasperation desperately clinging to it. Still, his body remained rigid; relaxation falling short of it. "I should hope so! And once we do, he'll have his arse handed to him!"

The Beatles drew back in slight surprise at the use of such vulgar language stemming from their usually so poised manager. But no one dared to comment. Brian was beyond miffed and that was uncharted territory that the band didn't want to be caught dead in.

"What good is it if we find 'im, anyroad?" Ringo found himself discreetly whispering to George, "By the looks of it, Eppy may kill 'im!"

George flippantly waved off his words, clearly stating his indifference, "I doubt it, Ring," he whispered back, his voice equally as dismissive as his actions, "This is John we're talking about. And we all know how Eppy feels about him..." He smirked, the action topping of his statement like whipped cream on a sundae.

Ringo couldn't help emitting a quiet but genuine chuckle into the thickening silence that followed. While the spirit of the ongoing private joke flourished, all remaining traces of blossoming lightheartedness that had momentarily managed to brighten the world of the two boys were just as suddenly extinguished beneath the ominous, burdensome, counteracting atmosphere. His laughter trailed off.

For a while to follow, no one spoke; each of them falling subject to his own thoughts and concerns. Where had John gone off to? What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time? What if something had happened to him? Don't be ridiculous. He's fine. McCartney found himself shaking his head violently to clear away the stupid invading thoughts as they'd formed. He was fine. Even if he was daft in his wild and impulsive ways. Even if he sometimes had this uncanny, rather irritating habit in thinking himself invincible. No. Lennon didn't think himself invincible... He was just easily bored. And resultantly, he liked to dabble with danger. Do the opposite of what he was told. All to satisfy his twisted needs. Paul clenched his fists in frustration. Well, he picked a fine time to dabble, the sorry sod. They were in America. Worse, they were in a region of America that currently hated everything they stood for. If any single one of these people got a hold of John... They'd... Paul frowned. The public didn't believe for a second that John was truly sorry for what he'd said. For what he'd implied. Maybe he wasn't... Paul liked to believe that he was... He'd certainly looked the part. But to these people, the possibility wasn't even a possibility. And for the moment, it didn't seem like there was even the smallest bit of room for redemption in their hearts. Not now. Maybe not ever. Still, he was out there. Still, he was at their mercy... The silence, dancing around whatever distant conversation Mal was having on the phone, deepened; enhancing a ragged sigh the bassist had managed to let escape him. He wished Mal would hurry up. Time was crucial.

As if right on cue, the click of the telephone being reattached to its holder, resounded throughout the tense room. One by one all eyes turned towards the person responsible, eagerly in pursuit of receiving good news. When Mal didn't speak right away, Eppy found himself piping up impatiently. "Well?" he hurriedly inquired, unable to stand another moment of not knowing.

"Apparently, they've found him..." Mal murmured after a while, breaking the heavy silence as he returned towards the large group situated in the middle of the sitting room.

Sighs of relief and resulting clamor filled the room.

"So what's the problem, then?" Paul asked, able to see something else in Mal's eyes that the others hadn't picked up on. His words brought silence once again.

"He's been brought to the hospital for temporary observation…" Mal revealed unhappily, "Evidently he wasn't conscious when he was found."

"What happened?" Ringo asked; eyes wide, "Is he all right?"

"They said he seems all right but he doesn't seem to have any recollection of what led to his initial collapse."

"Y'mean like amnesia?" George asked; his voice awestricken. He'd read about such things but had never been presented with it upfront or known of anyone to actually have experienced it firsthand.

"Something like that," Mal responded, his voice soft, "Rather, they think he's repressed whatever's happened."

"Why?" Ringo questioned, eager to learn more.

"Mental trauma maybe..." Mal shrugged, "I don't know... and neither do they."

"Will he remember us then?" George asked.

"Of course!" Mal quickly retorted, "He's only forgotten what's led to his bout of unconsciousness."

"Will he get the memories back?" Paul weakly asked next.

"Maybe... maybe not. Chances are that whatever's happened to him may remain a permanent mystery."

Paul's face fell. He wasn't sure he liked that.

"But don't worry. They say he's fine otherwise. He was treated for some kind of scratch wound, deep enough to break the skin of his left wrist, so it seems he may have been caught in a bit of a scuffle. And there was a bit of blood cleaned off him... Most of which they say wasn't his... But there was no sign of serious injury from what they were able to uncover."

"Sounds like he held his own," Ringo smirked, a trace of admiration breaking the heavy cloud that had been his mood, "Atta boy, Johnny!"

George frowned. "Are we sure he didn't kill someone?" he had meant it as a joke, but no one laughed.

Paul briefly shot him with a disapproving glare before shifting his troubled gaze back to Mal. "Whose blood was it, then? Who attacked him?" he asked, failing to see any good in the situation.

"Does it matter, Paul? They've found him!" Ringo beamed, "And he's all right!"

"Ready for discharge," Mal concluded.

"Well, what are we waiting for? The turn of the century?" Brian asserted, "Let's go collect him at once!"

"Us too?" Paul asked hopefully.

"No." Mal stated sternly, "You're better off here. The last thing I need is to introduce the rest of you to a highly populated area considering everything. Though it's just a hospital, we can't possibly know the intentions of some of its inhabitants."

Eppy nodded his agreement. "And to be safe, I'm ringing Ira for extra security reasons. Additional risks will not be taken nor will they be tolerated."

"House arrest again," George muttered, unhappy with the revelation, "Great. Perhaps I should run away next!"

"Oh shut yer bloody gob, Harrison..." Paul snapped, causing the guitarist to jump in surprise.

"Finally lost that optimism, I see..." George roughly countered, turning to stare at the bassist.

"...Sod off, Harrison..." Paul grumbled resignedly, his tone immediately losing its initial fire. For some unknown reason, he was feeling rather irritated. Frustrated. Helpless... Only it didn't make sense. How could such feelings even be a factor when it seemed everything was at least trying to work itself out for the best? What was causing him apprehension now? Perhaps, it was the uncertainty that still remained on the horizon. They were still being targeted after all. They were still in danger. The attack on John just enhanced that. And because of it, everything seemed a bit more real. A bit more ominous. A bit more sinister. With a heavy sigh, he turned to leave the room, caught beneath a rare moment of ambiguity regarding communication of his feelings.

"It's jus' one of those days, Ritch..." Ringo murmured to himself in the aftermath of the most recent row between his mates, "And considering the way things 'ave been going thus far, it's understandable."

"Which hospital?" Eppy asked as he allowed Mal to slip behind the wheel, "This city is full of hospitals!"

"Emerson, I believe," Mal relayed without hesitation, "It's one of the smaller hospitals around here... or so I've been told."

"Small?" Brian echoed, his voice presenting itself with an uncharacteristic, quavering meekness. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved by such information or troubled. Relief wanted to sink in at the fact that the reduced size of the hospital would mean less traffic and less people but anxiety wanted to combat such feelings due to the fact that a small hospital might lack thoroughness in its work regarding their very own John Lennon... or... worse, unwittingly allow for another attack to take place due to its insufficient amounts of people and a resulting lack of security. "How far?" he asked.

"An hour away at the least..." Mal responded, his tone remaining casual despite the evident concern in Brian's.

"Why so far?" Eppy exclaimed, his eyes widening to match his obvious worries, "Why wasn't he taken to any of the several facilities in our immediate area?"

"Lennon was found quite a ways away, perhaps nearer to Emerson than here..." Mal readily affirmed, "The medics were simply doing what they thought was in his best interest and ours as well."

"Is his room at least heavily guarded?"

Mal nodded. "I made sure to ask."

Brian paled, still all but settled by the most recent revelation. "Well let's hurry. The sooner we collect him and get him back under our own care, the better."

Mal obediently started the car and immediately pulled away from the curb with a growing sense of urgency. "He'll be fine, Brian. They all will be. We all will be." He reached for the radio dial. "How about a bit of music to settle our spirits then?"

Lost in his thoughts, Brian didn't respond.

After staring at him a while in growing wonder, Mal shrugged and went forth with his own suggestion. As far as he knew, silence could easily grow to be their worst enemy. Silence allowed for things to escalate. It allowed for the most harmless of thoughts to grow into raging monsters.

With one click, the radio sprang to life and a jazzy tune characteristic of the region blared subsequently through the speakers. Satisfied, Mal sat back and relaxed; all concerns within his constricted mind easing up instantaneously. It was amazing what music could do for one's sanity. Even Brian didn't seem able to resist tapping his fingers to the rhythmic wail of the commanding saxophone.

"Feeling better, I reckon..." Mal acknowledged, taking his eyes briefly from the road to observe his companion once more.

Brian smiled weakly. "A bit, I suppose."

"Good."

The tune fizzled to an end and another one began in its place, this one heavy in trumpet rather than sax. Brian was just getting into the melody when it cut short, a rather harsh, commanding alarm cutting into it.

"We interrupt this programming to update you on an escalating situation emanating out of Eastern Asia."

Eppy frowned. "What's this?" he questioned aloud.

Furrowing his brow in equal bemusement, Mal automatically moved to turn the volume dial up.

"...As the death toll rises, more seem to be falling ill..."

"Death toll?" Eppy echoed, "What is this escalating from?"

Mal shrugged his own lack of knowledge on the presenting subject, his face remaining twisted in its own display of confusion. He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that he hadn't yet the slightest bit of awareness concerning even the most prevalent of contemporary affairs in the world what with all that had been going on as of late. He couldn't even provide commentary on what was going on in their home country... let alone halfway across the world.

"...This virus is spreading rapidly through hospitals and airports... seemingly through contact with the blood of its victims; more so, through invisible traces of blood expelled into the air through coughing and sneezing. Avoid international air travel if possible. If traveling to and from affected regions, for your safety and the safety of others, keep all open wounds if you have them, closed and if accessible, wear a face mask of some sort to combat the spreading of the virus. Symptoms are mild at first; even flulike at onset, but are known to quickly escalate. A high fever spikes a mere amount of hours following initial infection, followed by the coughing up of blood... and by the time the delirium is allowed to set in, it may be too late. While in said delirious state, victims of the virus may appear zombie like in nature. They may know nothing of their whereabouts. If you suspect you or someone you know might be sick with this offending virus, get them immediately to a healthcare facility where quarantine will be initiated..."

Brian and Mal exchanged startled looks.

"...This is a serious situation... The virus looks to be spreading to other regions of the world and traces of it have already started to arise in parts of Europe with isolated cases as far west as the United States. Again, for your safety and the safety of others, it is advised to avoid international air travel if remotely possible. This has the potential to be something of a worldwide epidemic. Possibly a pandemic. Stay tuned for further details on this developing story."

The ominous broadcast ended abruptly and as though such dark news hadn't freshly been exposed, lighthearted jazzy music once again filled the car.

"Nasty situation, that..." Mal murmured softly as he moved once again to turn the radio down. Suddenly he didn't feel up for music anymore, "Do you suppose it's real?"

"It would be a sick joke if it wasn't..." Eppy muttered quietly.

"Quite barmy, really..." Mal sighed. He looked vaguely troubled by the revelation, a complete depiction of how Eppy himself felt. "Do you suppose we should act accordingly?"

Brian quickly shook his head, impulsively dropping the apprehension that was trying to nestle within his brain. "Not yet, I don't think. I haven't heard even one American utter their concerns regarding this. Why should we?"

"There are cases in Europe!" the roadie exclaimed, "What if this should surface in England? What if it should surface here? Europe is only across the sea, you know," he concluded as though Brian was geographically unaware of where Europe was in relation to America.

"And what if it does? The media always makes things sound much worse than they really are..." Brian spat disdainfully, his mind clearly having drifted back to the current unfortunate situation involving his boys. "It's unfortunate what's going on in Asia... but... frankly I wouldn't make an ordeal of this unless we truly had reason to do so. Our hands are full as they are what with this unraveling scandal and all."

Mal sighed. Epstein was clearly disillusioned with anything and everything media and news related. After all, they'd succeeded in turning the Beatles into malevolent, wicked beings overnight. "Well, for your sake then, I hope we should have nothing more to worry about."

Brian heaved a sigh of his own. 'For the sake of all of us, I'd like nothing more...' he thought distantly.