REAL LOVE

Authors: Lovely Rita & Jenny Wren

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of Historical Fiction.

Chapter 14

Maggie glanced up at the clock and then swore under her breath. It was past 7:30 and she'd wanted to leave the office an hour ago. She was trying to finish signing some invoices and finally had to admit to herself that it just wasn't going to happen tonight. Maggie gathered up the papers she had finished into a stack and put them in her outbox. She was just putting the ones that were left into a pile for tomorrow when there was a tentative knock on her door.

Maggie looked up and saw Chris O'Dell's head poking through her doorway. "Hi, Maggie, saw you were working late and wanted to know if I can help with anything."

"Hi, Chris. Actually, I'm just on my way over to the studio and I'm late. George is recording one of my favorite songs, and I don't want to miss it. Or any more of it than I already have!"

"Which song is this?"

"'While My Guitar Gently Weeps.' He did an acoustic version already, but they're also recording an electric one." Maggie shoved a few things into her briefcase and then a thought occurred to her. "Oh! Yes, you can help. Do you have anyplace you need to be?"

"Nope!" Chris replied cheerily.

"Would you mind getting some takeout and bringing it over to the studio?" Maggie knew the boys wouldn't even start to think about dinner until after 9pm. But she was hungry now.

"How about Indian? There's that place across the street that George really likes..."

"Perfect! Order enough food for the band, us, and oh, probably two or three EMI staff. Here's money for that and the cab ride over." Maggie handed Chris a wad of pound notes. "See you there!"

"No problem!"

Maggie pondered Chris on the drive over to the studio. She had long ago decided she liked the young, blonde woman. She was happy to help with whatever was asked of her without being too eager to please. Given her broad knowledge of the Beatles, she wondered that she had never heard of Chris before. Granted she didn't know every employee who worked for Apple in the 60s, but there was something about Chris that made her stick out from the others. She couldn't put her finger on it though. Maybe Chris just stuck out because she was American like Maggie.

Her car arrived at EMI, bringing her thoughts back to George and his latest song. She couldn't wait to hear it again. George hadn't yet mentioned bringing Eric Clapton in to play lead guitar, so Maggie was curious how that would transpire. She remembered that the band had already recorded the backing track for the song back in August (though it had sat for a while) so she wasn't sure what would happen tonight.

Maggie walked into the studio to find half of the band in what appeared to be deep discussion. George had a scowl on his face and Paul was running his fingers through his hair in obvious agitation. Ringo was in the back of the room making a cup of tea, but John was nowhere in sight.

Sensing tension between George and Paul, Maggie walked up to them and said lightly, "What's up, lads? Where's my husband?"

"Oh, hi Maggie," Paul said, looking relieved at the interruption. "He's in the loo."

Maggie couldn't help but smile a bit at that. The day she had met the Beatles it had been Ringo in the loo, but what if it had been John? What if Paul had been the one to see her wink into existence right in front of him? Would she now be Mrs. McCartney instead of Linda?

Maggie turned when she heard the studio door open. John stepped into the room, his hair shaggy but not long, wearing a black turtleneck and a blazer, and looking like a Beatle. Her heart skipped a beat. No, it would have been John. It had always been John for her. Her husband squinted and then pulled his spectacles out of his pocket so he could see more clearly. Though he wore his granny glasses more often than he did the heavy-rimmed pair of his early twenties, he still sometimes got sick of them and would leave them off. Until he needed to see something. Maggie wished LASIK were available in the 60s - John would have jumped at the chance to be done with glasses for good. When asked about wearing contacts, he'd once said that he had to be "bloody stoned to wear the bloody things."

Maggie smiled and waved at John, who came over and gave her a big hug and a kiss.

"What's it to be, George?" John asked, his arm casually thrown around Maggie's shoulders.

"I want to start over again."

"But the song is almost done," Paul protested. "We've overdubbed nearly everything."

"I don't care, it just isn't right. And the solo... the backwards guitar doesn't quite have the sound I want."

"Let's just listen to playback one more time," Paul said. "Maggie hasn't heard it yet. She'll be a fresh set of ears."

"You mean a fresh set of ears that already knows what the final song sounds like," Maggie grinned.

"At least you'll be backing me up on this," George said. "The song just isn't right. I'm sure of it. And God knows, Paul," George turned to his bandmate, "That when it's your song you're not happy with, we have to play it into the ground." His tone was snappish and Maggie winced at the reference to "Ob-la-di Ob-la-da," the happy song that had nearly driven the band to physical violence. But George was right. He had as much right to perfectionism in the studio as Paul did.

"Let's hear the playback," Maggie said, pulling George away from Paul, who was visibly upset. "Come on, we'll listen upstairs."

The two of them climbed up to the recording booth where George Martin was sitting at the control panel, next to his engineer, Ken Scott. They both looked up when the door opened.

"Hello, Maggie!" George Martin's voice was as precise and measured as always but tonight he seemed especially glad to see her. If George and Paul had been sniping at each other all night, it was no wonder.

"Hi, George," Maggie went over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "How are you? How's the family?"

"Fine, thanks, Maggie." George gave her a smile but he looked weary.

"Hi Ken, hope you're hungry! Chris is going to be here soon with some Indian food." Maggie liked to make sure that whatever EMI staff was working the session knew they were included for dinner. Though it was still considered an honor to work on a Beatles session, Maggie knew it was often frustrating. This seemed like it was already one of those days, and it wasn't going to improve if George was right and the whole song needed to be started over again.

Ken cued up the track and Maggie listened carefully. It wouldn't sound exactly like the version she knew - after all, Clapton hadn't recorded the guitar part yet, but she tried to listen carefully to the backing track, the vocals, and overdubs. She could feel George watching her intently, so she tried to keep her face neutral, but it was clear that he could read her anyway.

"I'm right, aren't I?" George said. "It's not it."

"No, George, it's not it." Maggie agreed.

George Martin looked from Maggie to George Harrison, clearly confused by their coded conversation.

"Looks like dinner's here." Ken pointed down to the studio below.

The others peered through the big, glass window, and saw Paul rushing to help a small, blonde woman laden with shopping bags.

"Come on, George, let's go. It's going to be a long night." Maggie grabbed George's arm and pulled him towards the stairs. "Come down when you're ready to eat, there's plenty of food!" Maggie called behind her to George Martin and Ken.

"What's for dinner?" George asked on their way down.

"Indian. From your favorite place."

George brightened at that. "Have I ever told you I love you?" he said affectionately.

Maggie blushed despite herself.

George laughed and gave her a smack on the cheek before hurrying off to help Chris and Paul with the food.

Several hours and 28 takes later, the group agreed on the eighth take as being the best, and it was put aside to be finished the following night.

Maggie watched in amazement as Eric Clapton's fingers glided over his guitar strings. He only used three fingers of his left hand, she noticed, declining to fret any strings with his pinky. He didn't need it – the digits he did use were getting the most mournful, soulful sounds she'd ever heard out of the Gibson Les Paul guitar he was playing.

Maggie looked up to see George smiling in satisfaction.

At the first opportunity, Maggie pulled George aside. "Spill," she said.

"About what?" George gave her a lopsided grin.

"What do you mean, about what? You show up here with Eric on one arm and Pattie on the other, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary... Where did Clapton come from?"

"I gave him a lift from Surrey to London today and it simply occurred to me that he was the thing that was missing. I'm right, aren't I?" George studied Maggie's face closely again.

Maggie looked up at him, exasperated. "Stop studying me like I'm a crystal ball you're trying to see the future in."

George's smile got bigger. "I am right. Or you wouldn't be cross."

"My lips are sealed!" Something in the background distracted Maggie from her conversation with George. It was Eric and Pattie. She was making a cup of tea and he was standing near her, looking at her rather hungrily.

"You'd better go rescue your wife from Eric," Maggie said to George.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind." Maggie couldn't face dealing with the potential enormity of the Pattie/Eric situation just yet. What year had that all started? Was 1968 too early? Hadn't they gotten together in the 70s? Maggie shook her head to clear it.

"All right, luv. I've got to get back. Why don't you go keep John company – he's probably sad because his guitar solo from last night is being redone."

Maggie glanced over at John who looked perfectly at peace with himself. "Yes, he looks crushed."

George gave Maggie another smile before bellowing, "Eh, mate! Let's do another take," in Eric's direction. Pattie had been looking at up Clapton with big eyes, listening to him telling a story. At George's call, he reluctantly tore himself away from her.

Though Maggie wasn't exactly sure yet if she actually liked Eric, she was, as always, awed when she watched Eric's fingers fly over the strings, bending them, and making them sing. Clapton didn't have a reputation as a guitar god for nothing, and watching him play up close was an amazing experience. Maggie laughed a little to herself, knowing that if Linda could hear her thoughts about being starstruck, she'd once again say, "But you're married to a Beatle!"

As the song wove together over the course of the evening, Maggie could see the other Beatles giving George a little more musical respect. George's instincts on redoing the song had proven sound and Maggie could tell that John and Paul were digging the vibe the newest version had created.

Maggie looked around in wonder that all four Beatles were together in the studio and working on the same song. This wasn't something that often happened during the White Album sessions. It was perhaps even more unusual today, since the musician currently being recorded wasn't even a Beatle. Nevertheless, they were here. Paul had stayed mostly quiet so far, respecting George's lead on this song. But Maggie did notice that when he offered a tentative suggestion about phrasing on the outro, George cocked his head thoughtfully, and then nodded in an affirmative. The two of them were clearly trying to stay on balance with each other tonight, and so far it was working.

After George was satisfied with the lead guitar part, they moved on to adding overdubs. George sang the lead vocals, and then Paul added a harmony, a part Maggie had always loved. Next came the organ, an extra bass guitar part, and Ringo's tambourine and castanets.

John didn't offer any suggestions to George about the direction to the song - he too seemed content just to watch the proceedings and help out where needed. When he wasn't working, he sat next to Maggie on the new couch they'd recently added to the studio, mainly for Maggie's comfort.

She was getting too pregnant to sit cross-legged on the floor or on a stool like she usually did. After John had suggested the couch, she'd made the counter-offer of just having a mattress pulled into the middle of the studio for her. His confused expression had made her laugh and so she told John the story she had once told George about Yoko insinuating herself into the group. That John, in another life, had indeed dragged a mattress into the studio for Yoko, and that Yoko had made George angry because she had stolen his biscuits.

"Luv, you really have saved me, haven't you?" John had said fervently. "To think what might have been…"

"Are you saying Yoko is a fate worse than death?" Maggie had laughed.

"Well, she went too far with the biscuit-stealing, now, didn't she?" John had said in his Liverpudlian cadence that never failed to charm Maggie.

Ringo spent much of the evening puttering around his drums, adjusting things here or there, moving some of the flowers still piled around the kit out of the way. The edges on some of the flowers were starting to brown and Maggie knew they'd have to go soon. But she knew they meant a great deal to the drummer. After Ringo had tried to quit the band, and then gone off and had a vacation in Sardinia instead, he'd come back to the studio to find that the others had put flowers all over his drums, along with a sign that said, "Welcome Back, Ringo!" It had actually brought tears to Ringo's eye and the band had had a bonding moment. They were few and far between these days, but Maggie hoped this was a sign that things were getting better. As John might have said, "They couldn't get no worse…"

While Ringo had been out of town, the band had recorded one of Maggie's favorite songs from the White Album, "Back in the U.S.S.R." – it had been a pleasure to see it come into being. Even without Ringo's cheery presence, the band had worked well together.

That trend appeared to be continuing, judging from how this session for "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" seemed to be going. She wished the harmonious atmosphere could last forever. But she knew it would be a miracle if they got through Pete Best's album release party next week. John had ceded the date he'd wanted to Paul so he could put out Mary Hopkin's record first. In exchange, Paul had agreed to go to the party, but then George had refused to go unless he was promised there'd be no reporters or photographers. This had, of course, caused an argument.

"It's an album release party – the whole point is to promote the record! To the bloody press!" John had roared.

"Well then, I'm not going," George had snapped back. "There'll be a big fuss about a Beatle reunion or some nonsense like that, and I won't be a part of it."

In the end, though, he'd caved when he learned that even Ringo was going to the party. Ringo had simply pointed out how much more awkward it was going to be for him, as Pete's replacement in the band, and George had grudgingly capitulated if reporters were kept away from him.

Maggie figured as long as they got through the night without any fistfights breaking out, it would be a win. And considering this, perhaps it was best that the press were going to be there – they'd keep the boys on their best behavior.

The affair would obviously be uncomfortable for them, but John, who had been Pete's closest mate, had already made his peace. With him leading the way, it shouldn't be too hard for the others to follow suit. They hadn't been nearly as close to Pete as John had been, after all. Ringo had been in another band entirely, and George had been treated as the perpetual younger brother back in Hamburg. Paul had, even back in those days, been more focused on musicality than friendship and hadn't been close with either Pete or their long dead original bass player, Stu Sutcliffe.

Maggie knew Paul would put on his political smile, shake Pete's hand and move on with his life. She just hoped George would be able to do the same.

But for tonight, things were peaceful, and as the band listened to what they had recorded tonight, it was obvious that they were all for once in agreement that it was good.

A/N: Sorry we took an extended break - there was lots of traveling and then a big storm that took our power out, and then this chapter got posted in our LJ comm and I spaced on posting it here. Sorry! The good news is that you won't be waiting as long as they are for Chapter 15! (Which is 3/4 done.)