I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

CHAPTER 14

2015

Dahlia's POV

It had been four years since I left 1963 or 1964 rather, seeing as it was March when I left. It had been five very long years. And now I was going back. I had had enough. I had been living in London, but now I gave up my flat, quit my job, and in all other ways made sure that I would leave nothing behind when I left. I had no friends, no family, and nothing else to keep me here, so I was going. I could only hope that when I hailed the taxi the driver was the man that sent me back and brought me back. I packed up everything that I would need or want to bring with me, including those clothes that Cynthia Lennon had gotten me all those years ago and my iPod touch. I looked at my reflection in my bedroom mirror and sighed. I was no longer a child; now at 22 years old, I was taller, and my hair was now a dark brown although it was still cut in a bob-style. I was still, however, a lover of skinny jeans and t-shirts. I was wearing skinny black pants and a pair of boots that I had got with Cynthia and a pastel green blouse, along with my leather jacket. I had very little make-up on but it was enough. And I still played my guitars regularly.

I grabbed my bags and guitar cases and went out the door of my flat. I left every piece of furniture behind; the next tenants could decide what to do with it. Throw it away, keep it, I didn't care. It was March once again but it was freaking cold out. I closed my eyes and hoped with all my might that my plan would work.

A taxi drove up to the curb and I got in it. Just as I had hoped, the British man who had sent me to The Beatles years ago and had brought me back greeted me.

"Well, well, well. Look who we 'ave here. You wanna go back now love?"

"Yes. I miss them terribly. Please, send me back."

"All right, love, but you hafta know that after this I can't ever bring you back to your own time period. You sure you want this? Cause if you do, you're there for life."

I didn't even need to think about it. "Yes. I want this more than anything."

"All right, love. Close your eyes." I did as he asked and I heard him say, "The first Beatle you'll see will be John. Goodbye…mum." My eyes snapped open at the word 'mum' but when I looked around, I noticed that I was NOT in a taxi. I'm back. I looked down and noticed that my bag and guitar cases were beside me and when I looked up I noticed a tall figure walking past. He had light brown hair cut into that famous Beatle hairstyle: John. It's Johnny. I felt so happy, much more than I had in the past four years and started walking towards him. Bags in hand, I called out, "Hey John!" Nobody else was around this early in the morning and John looked alarmed when he heard his name being called.

"Wot? Wot d'ya want? An autograph? A picture? Wot?" John snarled. I was a little taken aback at his tone, but then I remembered how different I looked. That and he probably thinks that he'll never see me again. He doesn't recognize me. Okay, no problem, I can work with that; it'll make the reunion much more interesting anyway.

"Nice to see ya, Johnny," I said, finally reaching him.

"Hey, listen, lady. I don't know who you are, but the only people I let call me 'Johnny' are Paul, George, Ringo, and…D-Dahlia." I could see how much he missed me in his eyes, which usually expressed whatever emotion he was feeling at the time.

"You don't recognize me, do ya, John?" He started shaking his head but stopped and looked at me closely. His eyes got really big and he whispered, "Dahlia?"

"Hey, Johnny," I said, tears brimming in my blue eyes.

He grinned and said, "You're back? It's really you?"

"It's really me, John, I swear. I'm back and I'm not going anywhere."

He laughed and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, but at this moment I didn't care. "I've missed you so much, Doll."

"I've missed you, too, Johnny."

He released me and looked at me, "I don't understand, though. You've been gone a year, but you look so much older than 19."

"That's because I am. John, for me, it's been four years since I left. I'm 22 now. The guy who sent me back…" Who just happens to be my son, apparently. "The guy who sent me back sent me to this year."

"Why 1965?" he asked. I shrugged and said, "I guess maybe he thought that this was the year I was supposed to come to." John nodded and said, "So for you, it's really been four years and for us, it's only been one? That's…really strange."

"You're telling me, Johnny. But I'm back now and that is all that matters, right?"

"That is absolutely right. And it is absolutely freezing out here; let's go back to the flat, love."

I nodded and we started walking. John had taken one of my guitar cases and I was carrying the other and my duffel bag.

"So John, how have you been? How has everyone been?"

"Well, you know, we've been pretty good. We've all quit smoking entirely, except for the occasional trip, but that's only if we're having serious problems writing. Ringo has just been absolutely clean, George had sworn off smoking anything, and so have I. Oh, and we've gone to America. Finally got a number one hit over there."

"Yeah, "I Want to Hold Your Hand", right?" I said. John nodded and said, "Yep. Oh, and we got to go to Boston. Nice place, that. The accents are pretty funny. Hey how come you don't have an accent like them?"

I laughed and said, "I do, John. You guys just never noticed it."

"Oh. You know, we even went to Canada. It's bloody freezing there! But otherwise, it was fun."

"That's awesome, John. I'm so proud of you. How about…P-Paul…how is he doin'?"

John sighed and said, "Oh, honestly, Paul is kind of a mess. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's still writing and performing, he's better even, but it's the backstage behavior that's concerning me. On stage, he'll be smiling and jumping around and all that, but as soon as we get backstage or go home, he doesn't smile, he hardly talks. Honestly, he's lost without you. I think he hates himself for hurting you."

"Oh, that's awful. I mean, yeah, it'll be awkward seeing him again…after…well, y' know, but I'm not angry at him. Not anymore at least."

"That's good. So tell me, wot were ya doing in the future?"

"Well, I was living in London, had a great intern gig at the London Crime Lab, and I was going to school part time. I wasn't really getting anywhere though. So, when the lease on my flat was up and my internship was over, I dropped out of school and well, here I am."

John seemed impressed and whistled. "And you gave all that up to just come back to us?" I nodded and John smiled and put his arm around me, "You are amazing, Doll, I'll give you that."

"Thanks. Hey, how's Brian?"

"Oh, missing you like mad. When he found out you left, he nearly had a panic attack. He just kept saying that the only person who can keep us under control had gone and he was screwed. It was pretty bloody funny, actually." John laughed at the memory and before too long, we reached the flat and John said, "Okay, I'm gonna tell the Ringo and George to get down here, let's see if they recognize you…probably not cos you're older now." I nodded and John yelled out, "OI! GEORGE, RINGO, GET YOUR ARSES OVER HERE!"

"JOHN! WOT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? WE AREN'T DEAF, Y'KNOW!" George yelled from the other room.

"George is right, John. Wot could be so important that you had to blow our ears out to get our attention?" Ringo said, following George to the door where John and I stood. "Who's the bird?"

John rolled his eyes and he gave me a look that said, "I'm surrounded by morons." I laughed and with that, it finally hit George and Ringo. "Dahlia…is that really you?" Ringo asked hesitantly. I nodded and he immediately ran at me and hugged me just like John had, and George did the same.

"How are you back? I thought you were gone for good! Dahlia, oh we missed you so much!" George was hugging me and talking really fast. "Whoa, George, slow down. I'm back because my life sucked back in 2015 and I wanted to come back. I've missed you guys so much."

"Wait a second, 2015? You were from 2011, and you've only been gone a year!" Ringo said.

"Yeah, I know, but for me it was 4 years, not one. I'm 22 now, Rings." George was still hugging me and I had to talk over his shoulder. "I thought you looked older," Ringo said, "but good older, not in a bad way, ya know." I nodded and John finally said, "George, for Christ's sake, let her go!"

"Oh, sorry," George mumbled, letting me go. I shook my head and smiled and said, "Hey, where's Paul?"

"Oh, he went on a walk. He should be back soon," George told me.

And just like George said, Paul was back very soon. John and I were sitting on the couch, talking back and forth about different things and Ringo and George would interject every so often to ask me about school or my internship and Paul walked in the door. My heart broke when I saw him; he looked so…forlorn and lost. His head was down but he looked up briefly. "Hey, lads…hey, Dahlia," he said. Even his voice was downtrodden. He kept walking and was about to go into the hallway that led to the boys' rooms when his head snapped up and he whirled around.

"Dahlia?" Paul yelped. I stood up and smiled at him, "Hey, Paul."

"Okay, I'm dreaming, I must be."

"No you aren't, Paul. I'm really here."

"I must be dreaming because in real life, if you were here, which on its own is impossible, because why would you come back, you wouldn't be smiling at me the way you are now. You wouldn't be smiling at me like you used to. You wouldn't be smiling at me like you loved me, because how could you still love me, after wot I did to you?"

Obviously, he was convinced he was dreaming so I figured I needed to make him realize that this was real. I took his face in my hands and said, "Paul, I'm here. I'm real. You are not dreaming. And I do still love you. Yes, I was angry, but I never stopped loving ya….not ever." I stood on my tip-toes slightly because Paul was still an inch or so taller than me and pressed my lips to his. Paul closed his eyes and so did I. I felt his arms go around my waist and he deepened the kiss. Maybe he finally realizes that this is real.

We stayed like that until we ran out of breath and then Paul looked at me, with tears in his eyes. "Dahlia…you're back. You're really back." I nodded and wiped away the few tears that had escaped Paul's hazel eyes. "I'm back, Paul. I'm back for good and I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you, Dahlia. I love you so much. I thought I lost you."

"I love you too, Paul. And you will never lose me. I'm yours."