I'm super sorry for it being so long since I've updated. This story sort of drifted away from my interests for long while and I have this issue where if I'm not obsessing over something, I don't have any interest any it. It's like a light switch, on or off, not a dimmer knob. Please. Just read and be happy. It's probably not up to the usual par and there's probably grammarical mistakes, but I just wanted to get it uploaded as soon as possible. Just read it. Read it now.


Chapter 12
Love You To

Sandra was home now and had been for days with nothing to do. She had already gone out to look for a new place to work, but couldn't find any quality places that were hiring that she actually qualified for. She was afraid that if nothing came up soon she would have to resort to menial tasks like waitressing or being some sort of secretary at an office building. That was really all the jobs she had a knack for though. She didn't feel she had that many talents at least none that would do her good in the work force. She knew she would have to cope with whatever sort of work was available, unless she could spit out a well written book within a month, which she was sure that she couldn't. It would be two weeks before anymore bills arrive that required payment. She had that long to find herself another job or to go beg to get her old one back.

Begging was the last thing wanted to end up doing though. She had made a stand against that place, at least in her own mind, and she wasn't about to return to it. Finding the courage to quit was one of the bravest things she had done in a long time. Sandra didn't want to loose that.

The young woman felt that she needed to turn in at an early hour. She had another big day walking around London in search of employment tomorrow. She laid in bed for the longest time awake, tossing and turning back and forth. Sleep didn't come easily even though she strongly wished it would. Her body was heavy but her mind was racing with completely random thoughts. Nothing pertained to anything so there was a point that she thought she was dreaming, but her ability to quickly open her eyes with no resistance proved that wrong. She stared at the walls and then the ceiling, only seeing darkness that was the same as when her eyes were closed.

The complete silence was getting to her. The only noise that could occasionally be hear would come from a vehicle passing on the road outside. Sandra knew that after at least an hour had passed she was accomplishing by lying there. Sandra got up and walked out of her room, wandering past the bathroom, through the kitchen, and into the living room. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at each piece of furniture individually and almost studying them for every detail before moving onto the next. She found it to be very empty, for lack of a better word. Maybe not physically, but metaphorically. It was just her and her things in this apartment.

She instantly felt lonely.

She was missing her family and friends in her empty home. No, home wasn't the right word. A home had both family and friends. A home didn't qualify as just wherever you lived. She wished that Marian wasn't gone away leading her own life so that they she could liven up the flat. She wished for the impossible of living in a huge mansion with the Beatles and herself all under one roof. Hell, it might have just been the tiredness talking, but at this moment Sandra would have been okay with her mother being here or her being back home. Yep, she told herself, it's definitely the sleep talking.

Getting out of her head, Sandra took a seat on the chair she was intently staring at. She pulled the phone close to her and rummage through a basket of knickknacks to find the address book that was in it. She wanted to talk to someone. No, she needed to talk to someone. She wanted human contact and to rant about what was going on in her life to a person and not just a notebook that couldn't talk back or give her advice. She took a breath and closed her eyes. She would let fate or whatever divine being out there decide who she received this help from. She opened the small, brown book to a random page and pressed her finger down into it.

Eyes gazed down onto the crisp page that held a printed letter 'S' at the top. Beneath were several light blue lines with names written in black ink or slightly smudged pencil lead. Underneath an Anna Salter and a Verbena Sparrow sat Sandra's finger, pointing out an all too familiar Richard Starkey. She couldn't help but give a little smile at reading his name. But that smile gradually vanished as she picked up the phone to dial the number (she had received a personal one from all of the boys at an early occasion) and having it ring to many times to count before she gave up on it.

Some voice in her head told her to try again, and not feeling she had anything to loose from it, she did. The book was once more closed. Sandra took a second to look up at the ceiling and then open the book again. She unknowingly grinned when reading the first name on the page, George Harrison. Something made her feel like that she would not have been able to call him of all people if it was just out of the blue instead of this system she had came up with. She was beginning to question herself about the idea already. She argued with herself, What if it's too late to be calling? No, it's half past nine, most people are awake still. What if he doesn't want to talk to me? Then he'll excuse himself politely. What if he's not even there to answer? Then you won't have to worry about him not wanting to talk to you.

It seemed that the second voice had won. Sandra dialed the number on her red rotary dial and fiddled with the cord nervously while it ringed. She hated how she was feeling so nervous about talking to George while calling Ringo seemed to be so simple. Maybe it was that she knew that in person Ringo was the easiest to talk to, while George was also when talking to him she wanted him to do the talking. He was intriguing and always surprised her with his humorous comments that were more expected to come out of John. She wished to know more about him rather than spilling her problems onto him. He had answered yet. She still had a chance to hang up before she got herself into anything.

"Hello?" questioned the droll voice on the other end.

As expected, Paul picked Sandra up around four in the evening the next day. Paul told her about how he, Ringo, George, and John had all been able to buy their own homes with some help from their accountant. He also told her about how Brain had wanted them all to have houses across from each other and one for himself near by but the four went with the homes they felt comfortable with. While John, George, and Ringo's were all roughly close to each other, Paul's was the farthest away, but also closest to Sandra.

They drove out of the packed city and into the suburbs.

When the car finally pulled into the gravel driveway, Sandra could see the clean new house and the flourishing, green yard that surrounded it. The house was long and bungalow style. It was made of whites and tans, with a walkway of cement surrounding it almost like a moat.

Sandra stepped out of the vehicle, breathing in the air that was much better quality than the city air she was now accustomed to breathing. She could already see the figures that were standing beside the wall nearest the door. Pulling her glasses out of the purse she brought with her and putting them on, she could see much better, even if there was a smudge in the upper right hand corner of one of the lenses.

John stood beside Cynthia, whom Sandra recognized from the concert, talking to George who was leaning with his back against the wall. Ringo was standing beside them as well with his arm around the shoulders of an almost black haired girl. Cynthia was holding a small child in her arms, who Sandra could only assume was her and John's son, Julian. The group turned around to face Paul and Sandra when the two began walking up to the house, the crackling sounds of gravel moving every time they each took a step.

There was a small breeze around the house and in the trees causing Sandra's hair to be pushed in the wrong direction, all in front of her face. She pushed it out of her eyes, keeping her hand at her forehead pretending to be blocking out the sun. The bright, hot weather was unusual. Sandra was wearing shorts for the first time all year. Normally, she would have just worn a slightly shorter dress or skirt but she knew that she would be working today.

Paul reached the group before Sandra, and when he did he took Julian out of his mother's arms. Both of the boys' faces lit up. Paul entertained the child with silly faces and smiles where Julian replied with no words but with laughs and dark eyes that were identical to his father glowing with happiness. Sandra observed with interest, not getting in the middle of it though. There was no way could top Paul's cute performance. She figure that she would end up holding or not playing with Julian correctly if she tried. She really didn't want to go upsetting John or Cynthia. And besides, Paul looked overjoyed and she didn't want to spoil that for him.

"Hello," Ringo greeted the two, turning with his arm still draped over the dark haired girl. She was quite young looking and wore a lot of dark makeup around her eyes. Ringo introduced, "This is Maureen."

"You can call me Mo."

"And that's," he gestured to the only blond, "is Cyn."

"Yeah, I've met Cynthia once before," said Sandra, smiling over at her female friend. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mo." Sandra went on to introduce herself and carry on with random talk. Maureen reminded Sandra of Marian. Maureen had some of the same physical attributes and was also the more talkative one. Cyn held a sophistication about her while Mo acted more like the boy's, growing up in the not so well mannered neighborhoods. Mo kept the conversation between the women going, whether there was something to say or not. She would dote on Ringo in and out as well when there was nothing else to be said.

"Are you and Ringo together?" Sandra spit out, just to make sure. She didn't want to go assuming things, even if it wasn't her business.

"Yep," said Maureen, being confident but blushing like a school girl. "And you and Paul?"

"Oh no," replied Sandra, shaking her head, "he just happened to be close enough to hitch a ride with." She laughed. "If it weren't for him I'd still be standing on the side of the road with my thumb up in the air."

"Ready to get messy, ladies?" Paul spoke up from the group of men. He still held Julian, supporting the child's back with his hand.

"As ready as we'll ever be," said Sandra after seeing the other girls nod in approval. She clapped her hands together in front of her, though it made very little noise, and looked to George. "Where should we start?"

The first thing that George wanted done was to add some greenery to the home. Shovels began to break the soft ground with hardly any effort. Piles of the damp dirt grew beside the neatly arranged holes. Slowly but surely the plants were removed from their plastic pots and were buried in the specific places that were excavated just for them. The women arranged dainty flowers of all colors and the men lifted the makings of bushes and trees into their spots. The home was furnished with all manner of foliage that it had never seen before and all the workers were covered in a layer of dirk that they were unfamiliar with.

Though it felt like forever, planting had only taken a few hours off the day. The rest would be left to less physical yet more time consuming job of painting. A break in the middle was taken for lunch, which Paul fixed and odd combination of jam sandwiches and small salads with Cynthia's help.

George was thoroughly prepared for every task at hand that day, Sandra noted. He had several large buckets of eggshell colored paint and multiple cans of paints of random colors of the rainbow. He had several rollers to do the main coat and then many smaller, handheld brushes.

John appointed himself supervisor after his work with planting, letting Paul and George tackled the sides of the house, arms moving up and down, guiding the rollers. Sandra couldn't help glancing out of the corner of her eye at them in between painting the shutters. She saw their bodies like she wasn't used to seeing them, in thin t-shirts and fitting jeans, not covering up every inch like the suits would. Her eyes continued to linger to George's arms, seeing the muscles tense up with every move. His chest rose and fell at a quickened pace.

Unexpectedly, the winds began to pick up and the sky faded to a shade of grey. Large clouds were no hesitant about rolling in and covering up the sun. Everyone put a halt on their work, knowing that an uncalled for storm was quickly approaching. They rushed to bring all of the paints and tools inside so that they would not get ruined by the rain. Lightning flashed brightly on the horizon and muffled thunder could be heard by all in the distance.

"We best be off," said Maureen to Ringo. Everyone had made there way in doors and were now sitting around the living room, the sky outside mimicking night. Ringo agreed, they said their goodbye's, and left for their car. John and Cynthia decided to follow a few minutes later when the rain began to drizzle but then turned to pouring when they stepped outside. Sandra could see the small family running to their vehicle and getting drenched in the process.

"Do you need any help indoors?" Sandra asked George, trying to be of any service that she could before having to leave. She was seated on an oddly textured chair off to the side of the living room. George sat on the end of the couch near her while Paul was stepping out of the kitchen, finishing off a drink he had poured for himself.

"The outside was the only thing really," said George, looking to Sandra. His gaze lingered longer than the young woman expected and the right corner of his lips seemed to naturally curl up. Even though he had given a short answer, Sandra could see that he still had words to say and things on his mind from the furrowed brows he gave. He eventually looked to Paul, but then back to Sandra, saying, "Thank you, both."

"It's all I can do to help a friend," replied Paul with a smile, to which Sandra nodded in agreement. He put his glass on the counter and strode out into the middle of the living room. He spoke up, "Now, Sandra my dear, we should probably get going too. I've got to stop by Brian's house on the way back and ask him a thing or two, hope you don't mind." Before Sandra had the chance to reply, George cut in.

"I can take her back so you don't have to rush with Bri," he said, standing up beside Paul. Sandra felt small in her deep chair. She just needed a ride, and though being honest she didn't really want to sit in Paul's car while he discussed business with Mr. Epstein, she didn't want to inconvenience George either. Though, at the moment she wanted to get more time to spend with him.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Paul asked George. George assured him that it was fine and Sandra said that she didn't mind. They would wait out the rain and then leave later. Sandra slipped off her shoes to get more comfortable as Paul his shoes back on, getting ready to leave. He gave a smile, said his goodbyes, and then dashed out into the heavy rain.

"Care for some dinner?" George offered, looking down at Sandra from in front of her claimed chair. Sandra glanced at the clock behind him, seeing that it was about time to eat yet again and noting how time had seemed to have flown. Sandra nodded and took his hands that were helping to pull her up.

"You sure are strong," joked Sandra absentmindedly.

"Maybe compared to Ringo," mused George, leading Sandra into the kitchen. "You're just not much effort to lift."

"Thank you," said Sandra, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. The kitchen looked extremely new and unused, with shiny counters and appliances. She looked to George, who looked slightly out of place. "Why don't you go sit and I can try to fix you something," she offered, trying to find a way to do something nice for George in return for him taking her home later on. She looked in the cabinets before he could answer, looking for something that the both of them would enjoy and that she could actually prepare well.

"Nah, you don't need ta' do that," spoke George. Sandra could hear him moving closer to her and then she felt his hand on top of hers, pulling it down from the open cabinet's wooden handle. His hand was rough, Sandra assumed from the callouses created from plucking the string on his guitar all these years. He turned her around to face him, saying, "You really don't need to do something like that." Sandra couldn't hear his words though. Her mind was to preoccupied with the fact that only a few inches separated their bodies. She tried to distract herself by listening to his voice but it meant nothing when her attention moved to his lips that were just as close. She couldn't move her gaze, thinking about how much this man meant to her with his charm, his humor, and his music.

She did something drastic. Something that could change everything. But something that she had imagined doing several times before.

She reached up on the tips of her toes, placing her lips softly on George's if only for a split second. It felt like a bomb had just went off inside of her chest, sending chills to the ends of her fingers. She recoiled, clearing her throat and saying a small "sorry," not wanting to look up to see George's reaction to her impulse.

But she had no time to find a reaction of her own when she felt fingers lifting her chip up and George's lips falling onto her own. The kiss started softly and then accelerated, bringing back the same sparks she felt only a few moment prior. She could feel George's smirk when she kissed him back and held onto his hand once more. The rush of feelings that normally swamped her brain was disappearing, and in flooded a stream of pure happiness. It was not entirely to long before she was led back into the living room and she and George were lying naturally on the couch beside each other. They quickly become unafraid to explore each others' bodies.

This was the last thing Sandra expected to happen, but if she said she wasn't enjoying every bit of it she would have been lying. She had a good feeling, as the thunder clashed on in the background, that she wouldn't be needing that ride home after all.


Well... that escalated quickly... Please forgive me, I have no clue how to right physical romance in the slightest. Hopefully leaving out the detailed smut doesn't upset anyone (trust me, you would have been disappointed with my attempt to write it haha). BUT HEY! This is the moment you've all been waiting for, right?! We've got a definite love interest going on here and that means more fluff to come, but along with that some twists and turns along the way. I know, I know, but I've got to keep your interest somehow.

Next chapter, soon(?) It'll be a short one though, just warning. Now couldn't you leave me some reviews please, just to show that some of you are still with me after this hiatus?

Okay, get outta' here.