A/N:

Me: Hey John, Paul, George and Ringo! I own you guys!

Them: B-S.

Me: You're right

Thanks to everyone who is reading! R&R pleeease!

Chapter 2: I Saw Her Standing There

Paul's POV

We're gonna have some fun tonight

Have some fun tonight

Everything's all right

Have some fun tonight

Yeah, we'll have some fun

Some fun tonight!

The final chords rang and the audience burst into applause, screaming out our names. God, how I love the cavern. I don't suppose I'll miss it so much if our dreams ever becoming the most famous band in the world come true, but this place is like my home. It's where the four of us learned to perform like an actual band. And the people here, I don't think I'll ever love a crowd like this more. The cavern truly belonged to us now, as we to them. I feel a huge smile plant itself on my face as I bow with the band and exit off stage. Performing is one thing I can never get enough of. I see it now- even if I'm seventy and old, I'll still feel the same thrill rising from somewhere within me as I walk out onto the stage in front of people who came to here me.

Well, not just me, of course. Forgetting the three men around me would be like forgetting my own name: impossible. Ringo, the happy go lucky, there when you need him, always smiling drummer who could make anyone's bad day just a little bit brighter. I remember the time I was teaching Ringo a simple song on the piano that he had wanted to learn to play for some bird. The supposedly short music lesson had turned into hours and hours of sitting in my basement talking about anything and everything that came to mind. He was the one who was right beside my decision to break things off with Jane, and the only one who really understood why. Although he seems like the youngest member in the band, he always has a piece of wise brotherly advice to offer to me, and I will never forget that.

George and I grew up together, and knew each other since we were little children riding the bus to school together. His quiet demeanor immediately drew my attention as I noticed him hardly talking to anyone. That was when we befriended each other, when I sat next to him on the bus for the first time. Playing guitars together late at night, growing up together, and now being in this rising band together makes me appreciate how George has always been a constant throughout my life.

And John. I do not know where to start describing the laughing, guitar holding lad who was bowing next to me. There were too many words, too many ups and downs. John was my brother, and I could never imagine my life without him.

Exiting off the stage, I enter the little dressing room where we hang out after our gigs at the cavern. John plops down on the couch next to me and Ringo and George sit straight across from us. I pull out a cigarette, light it, and take a deep breath. Calm washes over me and I address the band.

"Good show tonight lads, I know we're going somewhere." And I mean it. We have to be going somewhere. Playing the rest of our lives at the cavern would not be the end of the Beatles, and I think that all four of us know it.

"Where are we going, fellows?" John exclaims. We all smile.

"To the top!"

"And where's that?"

"To the toppermost of the poppermost!"

"RIGHT!"

I draw another deep breath from my ciggy and puff out the smoke slowly. Yawning loudly, I start to drift off into space, thinking about Jane. Do I still love her? No. Not after what she did to me. Use me for my rising fame in Liverpool just so that she could be popular in school? I always knew that getting involved with a bird so much younger than me could lead to no good. But the surprising thing was that no one expected that from her. She is- was- such a sweetheart. Or seemingly one. But that night at the gig when I caught her making out with that duffer from her school- Robbie or Ronnie or whatever it was- that was when the whole truth came out. Everything was a lie, and apparently she loved little Ralphie. I laugh inwardly. What does she know about love? She's not even done with her senior year of high school.

But then again, what do I know about love? The closest feeling I ever had to it was a long time ago, and I pushed her away. The closest thing I ever had to it hated me because of the immature eighth grade, thirteen year old Paul McCartney. The closest thing I ever had to it…

was standing right in front of me.

I blink. My mind goes blank. I am dreaming. My ciggy is about the fall out my mouth as I stand up and go behind Ringo. Sighting confirmed. What in the world… It couldn't be her. I was just thinking about her. But, I need to know. I need to find out. When I speak, my voice expresses the amount of shock that I am keeping inside.

"Chapman? Aria Chapman?"

She looks at me, confusion in her eyes. And then concentration. And then her hazel eyes widen with realization.

She utters my name with disgust and disbelief.

I wait for her to make the next move. Her eyes go through the most emotions in one second that I have ever seen. Birds. Never understood them, never will. She's not like the other birds though, and I remember knowing that the first time I laid eyes on her. But almost immediately, her eyes mask anything that she might have felt in the past moments. A cold indifference is replaced, and she goes back to talking to Ringo.

"Yes, so I am here to interview you four! The Liverpool Journal wants to do a front page special on you four and I'm the one assigned to write it." She looks proud as she states the last part. I wonder what the story behind this article is- it must be incredibly important to her if she is going to put up with me for even one second to write it. My mind flashes back to the previous years as I mentally punch myself for being such a two faced arse to her. And now she is back in my life- looking as beautiful as ever I might add. The same brown, untamable hair, the same smile plastered on her face, and the same perfect white teeth. I chuckle to myself. How can I ever forget those teeth?

"We're going to be on the front page of the Liverpool Journal?" George exclaims. "Guys, we must be making some sort of big break after all!"

John ruffles his long hair. "What'd I tell yeh, Georgie, we're going to the toppermost of the poppermost!" Though he says it with the voice of a parent talking to a two year old, I sense that John is excited about the coverage, too. As am I! But right now, I need to do something about the past that just walked right back into my life. What in the world am I supposed to say to her, though? She will never want to hear me speak, unless of course, it's for her article. I smile. Unless, of course, it's for her article.

John's POV

"Chapman? Aria Chapman?"

"Paul McCartney?"

I look up towards a conversation that seems to be getting very, very interesting. Wait, since when was this bird in here? I eye her wearily to see what she's up to, but in about a second, she forgets she was ever addressing my mate and turns back to taking to Ringo. Something about the front page article of the newspaper. I shoot Paul a raised eyebrow in question, but he seems too absorbed in his thoughts. Paul is never one to be absorbed in his thoughts. I chuckle. This bird here must have some history with him.

The bird in herself was not indecent. Pretty damn attractive, if I say so myself. Nice tits, much better than Cyn's atleast. After having Julian, she's been a drag in bed anyways. Her eyes fit nicely on her face, and she has a sort of innocent look about her. Like she has no idea that she's actually a looker. The smile she gives Ringo and George when they express interest in the article matches their goofy enthusiasm for anything fun, except why does she consider writing an article fun? This bird needs to get out more often, I think. Have some fun. Make some mistakes. Live a little, if she was up to it. I wouldn't mind having a go with her, maybe even a bit more. But looking back to the witless wonder Paul over here, who is still staring straight at her after she openly ignored him, I figure it's best to see what the deal is with him and her before getting into anything. Wouldn't want to get his knickers in a twist, especially right after Jane and all that shite went down. Being married does have its benefits when it comes to these kinds of things: no one is ever trying to have a serious relationship just to get something out of me. Not that I would ever let anything get to the serious relationship stage with any of these birds anyways.

"So, shall we get started?" the bird says. Aria, right. That's her name, Paul screamed it out for the whole world to hear not too many moments ago. I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see Paul's frantic face. I sigh.

"Whataya want, Paul?"

"Don't ask why, I'll explain later. I just need you to get this interview moved to tomorrow at the coffee shop. Just do it, mate."

"What in Christ's sake? Why?"

Paul gives me his "please help or I might kill you with your own guitar" look. I huff like the moody child I am trying to be and get ready to politely cause a scene. "You got some explainin' to do, McCartney."

With that, I stand up and walk my way over to the bird. I slip my arm around her tiny waist. "Aria! How nice it is to see you! You see, the thing is right now we are very, very busy, so why don't you just run along home?"

Aria starts sputtering as I ease her towards the door. "What? No, this was the article that's supposed to give me my big break! I need this!"

"Maybe some other time, dear. How bout tomorrow at the coffee shop across the street?"

The bird makes an indignant stand at the door, refusing to be pushed any further. "Excuse me Mr.-"

"John Lennon, how'd you do?"

"Mr. Lennon, I did not come all the way here tonight just to be told that I'm going to have to come here again! This is my job and you've got to respect that, right?"

I pretend to look deep in thought for a moment. "Nope."

A furious look crossed her face as she starts to go off on another tangent. I interrupt immediately, laughing to myself. Though this is completely uncalled for, it was, in it's own way, extremely entertaining. "Tomorrow at 9:30, coffee house! I'll miss you, love!" With that I slam the door in the bird's face.

I walk back over to the couch and light a ciggy. George and Ringo just looked utterly confused. I chuckle loudly as I kick off my sodding shoes. "Now, Mr. McCartney, I believe you have some explaining to do. Just who the fuck is that bird?"