George woke up sometime later when the doctor was attempting to check on Paul. Jane was still sitting on the other side and John was watching through tired eyes. When he noticed George blink awake and lift his head from the hospital mattress he stood and got George to transfer to the empty chair next to the one he'd been sitting in.
Ringo walked in seconds later, not looking at John but taking his abandoned seat.
"I believe you stole my seat Georgie." John said dryly, a tight smile briefly appearing across his face. George sighed and propped his elbow on his knee, laying his head in the open hand. He blinked tiredly, watching the doctor check over his patient, removing the neck brace and adjusting the respirator.
"How is he?" John asked as Jane reclaimed Paul's hand after the doctor was done.
The doctor, Doctor Malkins, looked up briefly from Paul's chart and sighed.
"He got lucky, the crash could have paralyzed, maybe even killed him, had the car that hit him gone any faster. He has a few fractured bones and some head trauma, but what we're worried about now is monitoring that coma."
"How long could he be under?" George mumbled.
"Who knows?" The doctor shrugged, "Only time will tell." He turned to go.
"I'll be back later." He called before quietly shutting the door.
Ringo sighed tiredly and leaned back in his chair, "Atleast he can't feel the pain." He mumbled. John shot him a dirty look and Jane glanced his way.
"How can none of this phase you?" She asked.
Ringo merely shrugged, "I've been in and out of hospitals me whole life, nuthin' really new here to me."
Jane was watching now, generally interested, "So... you've seen accident victims and coma patients before?"
Ringo nodded, "Most came out allright, so I'm not to scared about Paulie here. I was in a coma meself when I was younger. It only lasted ten days."
Jane and John were both watching Ringo now, George half-listening, half dozing. Sleeping in a chair bent over all night was not very comfortable and surprisingly exhausting.
"He'll be fine Jane, don't worry." Ringo smiled kindly before turning to John, "And I spoke to Brian, he's gonna make some sort of statement for us apparantly."
John leaned back in the chair. That was all fine and dandy with him. He didn't have much patience for the press right now anyway.
"Also, the Asher's called, they want Jane to come home for one night, they're worried your silent vigil isn't healthy on you."
Jane's cheeks colored in anger and she opened her mouth to snap when Ringo interrupted, "Which I agree, even my mother had to go home at some point. One night is all there asking. Come on, I'll drive you, I have to take George home anyway."
"No..." George mumbled, half asleep.
"You're not helpin' Macca by sleepin' 'ere Joj." Ringo said, taking his shoudler gently. George gave a weak protest but Ringo still managed to get him to stand anyway, leading him out the door as George tried weakly to squirm out of his grasp. Jane followed, looking mad and anxious. She turned to John before leaving.
"Watch over him for me will you?"
"Of course." John said, turning to look at Paul as the machines beeped around them. The door closed with a soft click and they were alone.
Paul sighed, leaning back against the kitchen table chair.
"So you've missed me all this time?"
"Without a doubt." Mary said.
Paul bit his lip, he'd missed her too...
"Will it hurt if I go back?"
Mary smiled sadly, "For awhile. But you'll get better. I don't think any permanent damage was done..."
Paul scratched the side of his face, feeling a million little cuts along his cheek with the pads of his fingertips, "Mom... Mom are you aware of things that happened to us even when you were in heaven?"
Mary nodded, her face becoming curious yet serious.
"So you know," Paul could feel the tears building, "When dad told us you were dead... and I blurted out 'What are we going to do without her money'?"
"Sweetheart-"
"I wasn't thinking Mom... and for years I worried that... that if you did know what was going on... that you were hurt by what he said."
Mary was watching her son now as the tears in his doe eyes threatened to spill over onto his cheeks, "Paul..."
"Mom, I always wondered if I'd made you mad or something and... and when I was younger I thought maybe you wouldn't even wanna see me when I went to heaven."
Mary hurried to her son's side, hugging his head to her chest and silencing him as the tears did finally spill over, "Nothing could ever make me not want to see you James Paul Mccartney." She said, "I love you to much for that."
Paul was quiet and still for a moment, then he wrapped his arms around her, "I love you too Mom."
It was quiet, even with the beeps and sighs of the machines. And despite what Ringo had said about Macca being allright, John wasn't so sure.
"You know Ringo thinks you're just gonna wake up and everything'll be allright." He told the bassist, feeling a bit awkward since it was like he was talking to a wall.
"And George is pretty worried, I forgot you too had that brother-like relationship. Ringo had to force him out the door so the poor bloke could get some proper sleep. Same with Jane, she asked me to look after you by the way."
He was just rambling now, the feeling of someone talking taking the edge off John's emotions.
"Beatles wont be the same without you, so Ringo better be right. You better wake up Macca. I don't think we'd attract as many fans without that baby face and birdy-eyes to plaster across the record sleeves."
That sounded a bit mean, especially when the baby faced, birdy eyed bassisst couldn't defend himself so John was quick to move on with his ramblings.
"Also, you know, we'd probably miss you. I know George and Jane would. Ringo too... And writin' wouldn't be all that fun without you. It'd become like actual work I guess."
That still sounded a bit wrong, a bit empty. What if Paul could hear him? Would he be hurt that John only saw him as a distraction from the dull and boring?
"You really scared us... me." John admitted, "That third day when you didn't show up to the studio? I was mad as hell but also a little scared. I worried something mighta happened to you... I mean, something did, but my point is, I started thinking about how much this band means to us... all four of us. I don't think it'd be as great if there were just three. Or we replaced you. I kinda hope we can avoid that when you do wake up. But Brian... oh geez he can be slave driver sometimes can't he Macca?"
Still no reply from the bassisst but John was to comfortable in rambling to let that bother him anymore.
"I don't think I'd let him replace you Macca, even if you died-which you better not! I'm just making a point here. I don't want no tests of friendship or nuthin' right now, I don't think that'd be very nice." John smiled, "I mean it though, I wouldn't let him replace you. I don't want any other bassist Macca. The bassist is supposed to be my best friend."
John sighed, "I must sound like some old bird over her sick grandson..."
There was a muffled mumbling and John frowned, knowing he hadn't made the noise. Excitedly, he looked at Paul, seeing his eyes slowly open maybe a crack.
Paul mumbled something again, but it was muffled by the respirator. Carefully, John pulled it from his friends mouth and asked, "What was that?"
Paul grinned tiredly and croaked, "I said, I can see the gray hair and everything."
John grinned, before taking on a high pitched falsetto, "Oh my darling grandson, all tucked up in his wee bed and-"
"Yeah it wasn't an image I wanted in the first place." Paul laughed.
John took on a pose, "You mean you don't find yer grandmummy fine to look at?"
"I think my grandmother looks rather nice, you on the other hand would be rather terrifying."
"Well," John said in mock offense, standing up and pretending to smooth his skirt, "See if I ever visit you again you selfish bugger."
Paul smiled weakly and John grinned before switching to his normal voice, "I'll go tell the doctor you're awake."
