A/N: Hey there everyone! I have to say that I am 10000000 % flabbergasted at how much you guys like this story. I have never been so inspired to write a story before and I have never written one so fast before! I have all of your awesome reviews to thank! :D Anyway…. Here is the much-awaited (I hope it was) chapter four!

Disclaimer: If I owned anything this valuable, then I'd be sitting in a mansion now, wouldn't I?

…

In My Life….Stuff Happens: Chapter 4: A Mission of Sorts

I stood there in the second level of the record store, blinking like a stupid person as Knox waited for me to answer. I tried using my voice but only a rusted squeak escaped and I shut my mouth before it could turn into a scream. The words that Knox had just said repeated through my mind.

"You've been given the chance to save John Lennon."

I controlled my breathing and grabbed onto the nearest shelf for support. If I didn't get it together fast, I'd land myself in a 1965 mental hospital. I took a few deep breaths for my own benefit and slowly looked up into Knox's eyes. I noticed just then that one was bright blue and the other was as dark as coal. It was a tad bit unnerving to look at.

"What do you mean?" I finally said, looking at him but avoiding his eyes.

Knox picked up a 45 from a nearby basket and turned it around in his fingers. "It means simply what I said. You were brought back here to try and save John Lennon." His tone of voice made it sound like he was describing a walk in the park and I felt the sudden need to smack him.

I didn't, obviously.

"Ok- but- I don't understand," I said, gesturing wildly with my hands- hey it's an Italian thing, leave me alone. "You brought me here?"

Knox nodded.

"To- save John Lennon?"

He nodded again.

"Ok- but as in save him, save him? Like- as in stop him from getting shot and dying?"

He nodded for the third time. I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. I was beginning to get a bit annoyed now.

"Listen, Knox," I said, not bothering to hide the annoyance from my voice. "You brought me to 1965. John Lennon doesn't die until 1980. What did you want me to do, hang out for 15 years?"

Knox was as quick as lighting and before I could react, he had me against the wall, his face merely a few inches from mine. I swallowed a gasp. I didn't want him to know that he had scared me. I didn't move as he spoke; I had to strain to hear his whisper of a voice.

"Listen, girl," he whispered in a deadly tone. "I brought you back here for a reason and it was not to have you be insubordinate or make stupid remarks. This is serious, do you understand?"

I gulped and nodded, barely whispering, "Yes."

"Good." He let me go after a few more seconds and was back in his position near the basket of 45s before I could blink. What, was he some sort of vampire or something?

"What- what exactly do I do?" I asked tentatively. I chose my words carefully now-didn't want to do anything to piss this guy off. Knox motioned for me to sit on a nearby crate and I did. After a few seconds of pacing before me, he began.

"Some people believe that everything happens for a reason," Knox started. His voice was lilting and for the first time, I thought I could detect a faint Irish accent. "John Lennon was senselessly killed outside his home in 1980. This- some believe- was not meant to happen. Ever since his death, it was wondered why someone couldn't just go back and change it. That's when we came."

"We came?" I asked. I didn't want to interrupt but my curiosity got the better of me. I hoped he'd answer and not slam me against the wall again because- ow, not fun.

"The elite order of the 'Taistealaithe Am'," Knox explained. For my benefit he added, "It means the time travelers. We are a group who- only when needed- send people back in time. Either to fix or stop something that wasn't supposed to happen."

"So- what you're saying is that John Lennon was never supposed to die?"

Knox nodded. "For all intent and purposes- yes. But- that's not to say that if you fail, anything bad will happen. Usually when something horrible such as this happens, we step in. If the person fails at stopping the event then it was truly supposed to happen."

"Wait, wait," I said, shaking my head. This was all beginning to be too much for me. I never signed on for this. "I was brought her to stop John from getting killed but- if I don't stop it then- it's fine?"

"I know it seems a bit much to process-"

"Understatement!" I snapped, unable to hold myself back this time. "That's not fair. It's not fair to John or to me. I don't- I don't want to fail at this."

"If you do, in fact, fail then his death was truly meant to be," Knox explained, his voice still in a hushed whisper. "All you can do now is wait."

I looked up. "Wait for what?"

"The right time," Knox replied. He was beginning to inch towards the window. "For now, you must remain here in 1965. Get to know John and the others. And when the time is right, the mission will come into effect."

I stood up quickly, ready to make my way towards him. My head was spinning and I had so many questions. But before I could even take a half-step forward, there was a sudden burst of light. When the light faded, I realized that I was the only one standing in the room now.

Knox was gone.

….

I must be insane. I think I've actually gone stark-raving mad. I'm probably locked up in an institution somewhere and all these events are part of my loony-toon hallucinations. I mean honestly- how else do you explain time traveling to 1965 and hanging out with the Beatles and Knox? I couldn't explain it any other way. I was insane.

I realized I was over-reacting. I couldn't actually be insane because I had seen too much to prove the time-traveling theory. And I honestly don't think that anyone in their right mind could create Knox- least of all me. I sighed as I walked down the street. It was literally pouring buckets of rain and the flimsy umbrella I bought at the dollar store wasn't giving me much cover. At least it wasn't thundering and lightning anymore.

"Hey- Quinn!"

I spun around at the mention of my name. I smiled when I heard the familiar Liverpulian accent and I walked forward to meet the two figures who were heading towards me. I almost burst out laughing when I saw what they were wearing. As far as disguises went, these were some of the weirdest I've ever seen.

"Hey George, Ringo," I said, stifling a laugh. When Ringo asked me why I was grinning, I burst into loud laugher. A few people on the sidewalk even stopped to stare so we moved into a nearby pub.

The pub was small and almost everything was made out of dark, mahogany wood. I followed George and Ringo to the back and we sat in a booth with red leather seats. The place was pretty much empty since it was only the afternoon and most people- save for the regular drunks- were at work.

"What's so funny?" George asked. I had stopped laughing loudly but there were still a few occasional snickers that escaped my lips as we sat in the booth.

George and Ringo sat across from me, both looking at each other and probably concluding I had gone mad. It was really hard not to, considering their piss-poor excuses for disguises. It was getting harder to look at them without laughing and I was on the verge of tears, I was laughing so much. George was wearing grey plaid pants- almost like a golfers- and a powder blue t-shirt. He had a blonde wig that went to his shoulders and huge black glasses. Ringo was wearing a pair of black pants, a white t-shirt and a black suit jacket. He also wore a grey wig and a grey fake beard. I almost spit out the drink I just ordered.

"I'm so sorry," I said, finally able to look at them without laughing. "Its just- you- you both look so ridiculous!"

George smiled. "We have to disguise ourselves or they'll be a bunch of girls chasing us!"

"Yeah," Ringo agreed, nodding. "And I'm tired."

I shook my head. These two were awesome. I never actually spent that much time with George or Ringo since I'd been here. It was either just with John or John and Paul. I welcomed this little excursion and I was kind of happy they bumped into me on the street. Not to mention the fact that I was still shaken up from my encounter with Knox- it was an understatement to say that I was glad for the distraction.

"Are you okay, luv?" Ringo asked.

"Of course, Ringo, I'm fine," I answered with a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Ringo just shrugged and sipped at his beer. "We didn't expect to run into you like that. What'cha doing out anyway? Is John or Paul with you?"

"Nope," I answered, downing the rest of my coke. "I got a little pissed off at John and I didn't want to stay in the house anymore. So I just left and got on a bus and ended up here." And thank God I ran into you guys or I'd be screwed.

George chuckled and I suppressed one a squeal. I thought I wasn't gonna squeal anymore….? He looked so cute when he laughed. "What did John do this time?"

Jeez it's like it was expected of John to be an ass. Well….

"He was being an idiot," I said but no angrily. "I had this Beatles book in my bag and he went and started flipping through it and he found out… stuff." I took a swig from my second Coke and sighed. "And! He's a fucking man-whore!"

It must have been the wrong time to say it because George and Ringo were in the middle of drinking and after I made the 'man-whore' comment, they simultaneously spit their beer across the table. Thankfully, it didn't hit me. Now it was their turn to laugh hysterically. I guess the word 'man-whore' didn't exist in 1965or at least wasn't used a lot yet. George looked so cute when he laughed. Oh great, am I attracted to George now too? That's just a love triangle waiting to happen.

"What?" I asked, laughing myself now. After a few more seconds of hysterical laughter, they sobered up a bit.

"That's no surprise," Ringo said with a shrug. "John's always been like that. Sleeping around with women, not really caring too much about them."

"Wait a second though," I said, a sudden realization popping into my head. "Isn't he married by now? With a kid? You know, Julian?"

"How do you know that?" George asked, a quizzical look on his face. He smiled after the realization. "Oh yeah- the future, right?"

I nodded. "Obviously."

"Marriage doesn't stop John," Ringo explained, answering my previous question. "He's still a cheating- what do you call it- man whore!"

"Oh come on," I said with my eye-brows raised. "You guys can't attack him by saying that. I know you all cheat, have cheated and will cheat. Hello- I know your freakin' life histories!" They looked a little down and guilty at this so for their sake I added, "But it's common knowledge that John is the worst one."

"But you don't care?" George asked.

I sighed. It was a really difficult question. On one hand, it didn't really matter all that much when I was in the future. John was dead by then and it didn't really matter. Besides it was the rock star way of life wasn't it? But now actually knowing him and seeing how sweet he could be sometimes, it did bother me. That's what I told George and Ringo and they understood.

"Besides," I said, "its not like I'm actually going to get with the guy, you know? For one thing, he's technically fifty years older than me and- well, like it's been said a few time, he's a man-whore. And he's married and has a child. It's just- creepy in so many different ways. And yet-"

"You still like him," Ringo finished and I nodded. It couldn't be denied.

For me, John Lennon= drop dead gorgeous. And there was no way of getting around it. I just hoped he wouldn't find out how much I actually liked him or else he'd be an asshole and make fun of me for it. The bastard.

"So-," I said. I had finished my second Coke and I knew I really didn't a third. I sat back and sighed. "Are we gonna do something? Go back home or- what?"

George and Ringo shared a secret glance and I smiled. I wanted to be let in on their little secret too!

"It's Paul's birthday tomorrow," George explained. Oh yeah that's right. June 18th. "And we're looking for something to buy him. It's from the three of us. John agreed to stay home so it didn't look weird."

Aww that was so sweet! They bought birthday gifts for each other!

"What are you buying him?" I asked. "And hey, I want to get him a gift too!"

Ringo cocked his head to the side a moment, thinking. "Well- we wanted to get him a fab new bass guitar. We could say it's from you too if you wanted."

I nodded, my heart singing because it felt so nice to be included. Man, I loved the Beatles. And Ringo was so cute…. Okay, stop it. No more attraction!

"We're going right now to the music store," George announced, throwing a few coins on the table. "The music shop is just down the street. You coming?"

"Sure," I said, standing and stretching. A burp escaped my lips before I could stop it and I looked up to the boys' matching gazes of amusement. I smiled sheepishly at them. "Sorry. Coke does that to me."

Neither George nor Ringo answered and I followed them out. As I stepped out from the pub, I was assaulted with a beam of bright sunlight. I guessed that during the half hour we spent in the pub, the rain had cleared away and the sun came back out. I was happy about it because by this point, I was really sick of getting rained on.

"Come on," George said, he and Ringo grabbed my hand and pulled me along. "It's right over here."

I let them both pull me across the crowded street and into the quaint little music shop. I stopped at the door, taking in my surroundings as they went about their business looking for Paul's guitar. The shop was very small, yes but it was way beyond amazing. Hanging on each wall were a row of guitars, all shiny and new; gleaming in the sunlight and just waiting to be bought. Straight in the back where Ringo stood, was a gleaming white piano and then around the rest of the store were a bunch of other instruments, each one carefully placed. It was simply breathtaking.

"Ringo, this one is great!"

"I don't know, George, I seem to fancy this one here."

"Oh come on Ringo, this one is perfect!"

I shook my head and ran over to the boys. I wanted to stop them before they got into another roll-on-the-floor fight. I stepped between them and studied the guitars each were holding. I had to admit, I liked both of them and I was sure Paul would too. It was just a matter of picking now. I didn't want to disappoint each of them by choosing one over the other so I had to think fast.

"All right," I said, placing on hand on each of their shoulders. "I'm going to think of a number from one to ten and you have to guess it. The one who either gets it or is the closest wins. "

George and Ringo looked at each other sceptically for a moment but then smiled and looked at me. I laughed inside. I was playing a children's game with two of the Beatles!

"Ten," George said.

Ringo was thinking for a few moments. "Umm…. Eleven."

I chuckled and George smacked Ringo upside the head.

"One to ten, Ringo!" George said. Ringo smiled sheepishly.

"Oh…. Sorry, luv…. Ok then- how about four?"

I nodded and added it up in my head. My number had been eight. I sighed before saying,

"George wins. My number was eight. He was the closest."

George did a little dance of celebration that almost forced me into hysterics again and Ringo put his choice of guitar away, a little sad expression on his face. After we had - or the boy's had- paid for the guitar and had it pleasantly gift wrapped, we headed back for the house.

Ahh…. What a day!

…

"Where the hell were you guys?"

Upon walking into the small house, we were greeted with a semi-angry John Lennon. He ran into the foyer from upstairs after we walked in the door. He must have just gotten out of the shower or something because he was dripping wet and had a towel wrapped around his waist.

I died just a little bit more inside.

I couldn't help myself and I didn't mind this time. Seeing John stand two feet in front of me in a towel made me that much more attracted to him and at that moment, the knowledge that he was a man-whore seemed to slip my mind. Once he noticed the look on my face, any anger he had in him disappeared and replaced it self with one of those priceless Lennon grins. I hoped I wouldn't faint.

"We just got back," George said. "And we got Paul's guitar!"

"Oh did you?" John asked, intrigued. He turned his gaze from me to George. "Paul is in his room, working on a song so go hide it in the basement or something!"

George nodded eagerly and ran towards the basement with Ringo in tow. I felt myself panic a little. I was alone with John. And he was in a towel! Ok so I already made that known but I was in a state of half-shock.

John Lennon. Towel. Kill me now.

"Hi there John," I said, leaning against the doorframe and trying to sound all casual. He saw right through me.

Of course, he had to be his typical asshole self about it.

Purposely, he came right up to me. I moved until my back hit the wall. I was pretty much trapped by a shirtless - and gorgeous- John.

"Like what you see, luv?"

I smirked. "Oh come on, John. Go put some clothes on, will you?"

He moved in closer. "You wouldn't like that would you?"

I had no choice. I put my hands on his bare chest and pushed. Of course, he only budged half a step. So now there I stood, my hands on his chest and him smiling down knowingly at me. Uggh, he was beginning to piss me off again.

"John…."

"What?" he asked, making a suggestive face down at me. It was all I could do not to blush.

"I will admit that you are my favourite Beatle. And that for all intent and purposes, you are my hero."

He grin was threatening to make me swoon. "And?"

"And…. John Lennon…. I'm not above kneeing you in the balls."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, John, really."

John didn't move for a few seconds and I began lifting my leg to show him how serious I was. He just laughed and stepped back. Quickly, before he ran up the stairs, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"I'd like to see you do something else with those."

I stared after him, my mouth agape. Did he really just suggest what I thought he did?

What a fucking pig!

I was actually considering telling Knox that I wasn't up for the mission of saving John but that would be horrible. Sure so I was mad at his man-whore-ness and his pig-like behaviour but I still had the utmost respect for him. I knew he may have been a bastard now, in this time, but I also knew how screwed up he was inside and how much he would change as he got older.

I took a breath and went into the living room. I sat on the couch, starting up at the ceiling. I heard the distant noises of George and Ringo play-fighting again and I felt a smile creep up on my face. All right, so I had over-reacted a little bit. John may be a bastard but he was still John Lennon.

I sighed and continued staring at the ceiling. This was just the beginning of a long mission.

I just hoped I was up for it.

…

A/N: All righty then. Another chapter done! I cannot believe it! I am just very inspired for this story! Ok maybe it's the shirtless John Lennon…. Anyway…. Please review! - Addie