Chapter 3: Nightmares and Late Night Adventures

Five gunshots. Five bullets leaving the cold metal weapon lodged sharply in a madman's hands. Four hitting him straight on, three piercing him all the way through. Two wounds more fatal than the others. Screams reverberating through the night air, consuming him as he staggered up those few steps that, at the time, seemed to stretch on forever. The sound of an armful of cassettes he placed so much time and effort on scattering against the pavement hit his ears as the world went black.

John jerked awake, gasping for breath. A startled scream left his lips as he pulled himself into a sitting position. The sweat drenched sheets that had once protected him from the cold were now horrible restraints that he hastily peeled off of his shaking body. That dream seemed far too real for his liking. But it had been real once, had it not? He ran a hand along his chest to verify that there were no bleeding wounds and that it was, indeed, just a nightmare.

"John, what's wrong?" Mimi demanded frantically, flicking the lights on in his room.

"I-I had a bad dream," he replied weakly.

Mimi ran a hand through his sweaty hair trying to soothe him. He leaned into her touch. "You haven't had a nightmare since your uncle and I convinced you there were no monsters in your closet back when you were younger. What was it?"

He shook his head and stood. "It was nothing."

"It obviously wasn't 'nothing' or you wouldn't have screamed, waking the entire house up."

"I need to go for a walk," he suddenly declared in an exasperated voice.

She stopped him from leaving the room. "You can't go out at this time of night! Why don't you just tell me what it was, hmm?"

"Mimi, please."

The desperation in his voice almost killed her but she remained adamant. "Tell me."

He hesitated, fingering a loose thread on his shirt. Finally, he said in a low murmur, "You wouldn't understand."

She crossed her arms and raised her nose at that. She wouldn't understand? What could there possibly be to understand? It was just a nightmare. But as her eyes studied her nephew in the dimly lit room, she had come to the conclusion that whatever it was had certainly spooked him dearly. He was covered in perspiration as well as trembling ever so slightly. She also noticed he would not keep his eyes closed for too long, probably in fear of seeing whatever was most likely etched onto his eyelids.

"Don't be long," she said at last.

He nodded his thanks, slipped on a pair of shoes and jacket, and left.

He wasn't sure where he was going, all he knew was he needed out. If he went back to sleep, he'd just see himself being murdered again. That wasn't a very appealing image, which is why he decided to step outside. The fresh air would hopefully clear his head.

As he meandered about the darkened streets of Liverpool, he considered the situation he was in. In twenty years, he had died. That certainly was a strange thing to think about. He would lose his life, his family, his friends, and his career. Everything would be gone if he didn't find a way to prevent it. But how was he to do that? There was so much time between then and now. Lucy told him there were other parts of his life he must change. Together, would those aid him in survival?

He slowed his pace, suddenly wondering what exactly needed to be fixed this time around. For a moment he thought he could save his mother, Julia. But the timing was off. It was over a year since she died. His heart clenched uncomfortably. Why couldn't he have had another chance to see her?

Because it was meant to be, a voice in his mind told him. Her passing was written in the stars.

He scoffed at that. It was unfair and he knew whoever came up with that was aware of it. Julia may not have been the greatest mother to him but she did not deserve to die, writing in the stars be damned. Then another wonderful idea hit him. If he could not thwart the death of his mother, perhaps he could help Stu!

A memory of the horrible day he found out his friend died came to mind. He remembered the pained look Astrid tried so hard to hide and the way grief took a hold of him, choking him off from any happiness. No one knew for sure why he died the way he did, by a brain hemorrhage. There are theories, of course, theories of which he should look in to as to find a probable cause for Stu's problem. There was no way he was going to let his friend die, especially if there was something he could do to stop it.

As he looked to the sky, he was almost certain the twinkling stars overhead were smiling down at him.

So now that he was obstinate in his plot to save Stu, what else was there for him to do? He supposed that was obvious. Keeping on good terms with his friends was a given. The John of the future would also insist on him becoming a better man. Seeing as how he was forty year old John in his nineteen year old body, the task shouldn't be too hard. He knew he would have to be much kinder to Cynthia, as well as be the father he never was to Julian. His family would be different this time around. But if he changed things with Cynthia, would Yoko ever come into the picture, and therefore Sean? He sighed and kicked at a rock on the ground. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.

He hadn't realized his tired body carried him to the deserted docks. There was a certain energy pulsating in the air that attracted him to that spot. He walked a bit further until he found a bench and collapsed on it. He turned his head to the side and nearly jumped when he discovered he was not alone.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked.

Lucy pushed a lock of hair away from her face but did not answer right away. There was a hard look in her eyes, something resembling misery lingering there as she stared out at the water. He had always seen her look so cheerful; he didn't like this new appearance.

"The same reason you're here," she finally said. "I couldn't sleep."

"How'd you know I couldn't sleep?"

"Why else would you be out here at the docks at three in the morning?"

He nodded, seeing the truth in her answer. They sat in companionable silence for what seemed like hours, simply listening to the water lap against the shoreline. After a while, he murmured,

"I saw me dying. It scared me pretty bad."

She watched him with sad eyes. "For a while, you'll be plagued with the memory of it. It's not a nice thing and I do apologize, even though it's not my fault. Had your passing been a bit…friendlier, it wouldn't be as bad."

"Do you dream about your death?" he questioned, ignoring the news that he would probably see his murder many more times. "You did die, right? To be where you are I assume it had to happen…"

"I haven't done this in a while," she said in a subdued voice.

"What?" That wasn't what he expected to hear.

"Living," she explained. "I haven't done it in a while. I've been up there for as long as I can remember. So to be able to dream again, it's…it's all I can see. My death, I mean." Her voice faltered towards the end and he reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Now's not the time. Maybe one day."

He didn't question her further, seeing it best not to provoke her. Silence reigned once more as they sat there, hand in hand. Suddenly, she turned to him, sitting cross-legged on the bench. She held both of his hands in front of her and surveyed him in the glimmering darkness.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

He watched her warily. "Why?"

"Just do it!"

He reluctantly obliged. After a minute of nothing happening, he poked open an eye and found her sitting in a trance-like state.

"I thought I told you to close your eyes, hmm?" she said, startling him.

"Yes ma'am."

An out of place breezed ruffled his hair, swirling about his person. Warmth spread through his body and suddenly, he wasn't afraid anymore. Quite the opposite, actually. He slowly opened his eyes and gasped in shock at his surroundings. He was back in his In-Between, the place of his dreams.

"Why are we here?" he asked frantically. "I'm not dead, am I?"

"No," she answered simply as she stood from the strange colored grass. She strolled across to the bridge and stood on it, looking down at him. "Aren't you coming?"

He quickly ambled over to her and stared at the orange liquid below them. "Why are we here?"

"This place comforts you. I thought it would be nice to take you back. You're not dead. It's more of a dream than anything, really."

"So I'm sleeping?"

"Sort of. We're still on the bench by the docks."

"Weird."

"I like it."

John leaned against the side of the bridge, his thoughts catching up to him, sans the fear. It was all a sort of calm pondering that revolved around this bizarre second life he was given. He glanced at himself in the water, trying to take in the leather jacket acting as a barrier against the chill in the air and the slightly messy yet coiffed hair with the tip curled just so. He chuckled at his appearance, the sound piercing the quiet atmosphere. Lucy watched him from the corner of her eye but said nothing.

He desperately wanted to know what he was supposed to do with himself now. What was he supposed to change, apart from saving Stu? If he did a certain thing, a chain reaction would occur, possibly changing everything he once knew. But was that not the purpose of this? Things must change in order to spare his life down the road. The fear began to manifest in tiny seeds of doubt. What if he couldn't save himself? What if he didn't do the right thing? What if he never had Julian? What if he never became a successful artist? What if he never met Yoko and had Sean?

"John?" Lucy called tentatively.

He turned towards her, seeing nothing but concern etched onto her face. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

He considered lying, saying he was fine. But she would know. He wasn't sure how but she would know he wasn't being honest. "Lucy, I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"What if I don't do the right thing? What if all of this goes in vain and I do die? What if the Beatles never come into play? What if Stu dies as well? What if my children never exist? What if I never marry Yoko? What if—"

He stopped midsentence as she placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"John, listen to me. Are you listening?" She waited until he nodded shakily. "You will make the right choices. Anything you decide will lead you down a path you will be fine with. I will not lie to you and say everything will happen as it did before because things will change. I can't guarantee any of the things you mentioned will be a sure thing but you'll be fine. I know because I've seen it all before." She smiled and he grinned back.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

"Can I ask you a question, though?"

She seemed wary but she could not say no. She nodded.

"If…Let's say I make sure my relationship with Cynthia goes better than before. Or I decide to end it because I know it won't end well. Would I ever have Julian or would I ever meet Yoko?"

Lucy hesitated, gnawing her lip. "I…I can't tell you that, John. You know I can't. You have to trust yourself to make the right decision and be okay with whatever consequence it has. I can tell you one thing, though."

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"When the time comes and you pass a certain point in your life this time, you won't remember the way it happened before."

"I won't?"

She shook her head. "The Man of the Sky feels if you remember it, you may go on living a miserable existence because you'll be plagued by thoughts of what had happened had you done it a different way or the same way it was before."

"I suppose that makes sense," he admitted slowly. "So if I go on living with Cynthia, I won't remember Yoko?"

"It's a possibility."

He visibly blanched. "That sounds horrible."

"Which is why you won't remember it."

"Can I consult you with my decisions? Get a little feedback on if they're good enough?"

"If you feel the need to. Chances I'll be able to tell you, though, are pretty slim."

"I figured as much."

John crossed the bridge and seated himself on the grass under a shady tree. He patted the spot beside him, indicating Lucy should sit. She crossed her legs underneath her and spread the skirt of her dress around her. The pair sat that way for what seemed like hours, discussing trivial things such as the weather or why the colors in this magical world were so bizarre or even what you would get if you crossed a penguin and a poodle. John confessed his desire of wanting a guitar and to his surprise, one manifested leaning against the tree. He strummed away at it, making up a ridiculous song on the spot about the majestic rocking horse people galloping like mad on the other side of the river which caused Lucy to laugh.

He smiled to himself, suddenly feeling light and airy. He imagined himself flying through the sky painted in swirls of pink and orange and yellow. He was as free as a bird. Lucy leaned back, watching him contentedly. She knew their fun must end shortly, however. John's eyes fluttered closed in a moment of pure bliss. When he opened them, he was lying in his bed again with his aunt watching him worriedly.