A/N: Update time! First draft by Naturelover422, revisions by yours truly. Apologies on the update delay- life has been crazy. Please enjoy, R&R, and yet again, enjoy!
After John and Larry emerged on deck, the first thing John noticed was the air. It was a soft breeze, caressing his face and playfully and gently whipping his hair around his face. It was much like what John remembered the air always feeling like at sea- John loved the water, and any chance to be on a boat he took, although he had never been on a cruise ship the likes of the one he was currently on. However, it was still yet different, in an inexplicable and peculiar way. The air was like nothing he had never before in his life experienced. The soft and light wind was fresh, and rejuvenating, but unearthly at the same time, like nothing that could ever be manufactured except in one's imagination. The fact didn't surprise John much, though. Unnatural occurrences were to be expected in dreams. The oddest thing, however, was the minimal amount of resistance that was felt upon his skin as it enveloped him. It seemed to filter into him as though he lacked solidity. It pierced him. Ran right through him like a ghostly entity of sorts; threatening to take him away all the while, as if he was a mere feather, completely and inevitably at its mercy. It filled him up from the inside out, helping him to feel even lighter than he initially had while he'd been confined to the ship's cabin. It was the most unusual of feelings, and John wasn't quite sure whether or not he liked it.
"Might help to walk around a bit," Larry advised as he saw John stumble clumsily over nothing in particular. "You never really get used to something until you acclimate yourself to it." He himself was walking along the railing of the ship, looking off into the distance as if he could see something there. It was baffling indeed the amount of attention he paid to the openness in front of the ship's helm. John himself could see nothing. There was a thick gray fog all about the ship that blocked him from even being able to see the water below, a strange departure from the clear view of his family he had seen in his small cabin room.
"Why's it so different from inside the cabin?" John asked; staring down at his feet as he awkwardly continued his struggle to get them to ensure a form of balance that seemed oddly evasive. He felt much too light out here as if he'd float away into oblivion with every step he took, and as such he remained standing still, trying his best to remain standing and look nonchalant at the same time. He looked down at his feet just to make sure they were actually there and was surprised to see that they weren't really- they were only half there, it seemed, and not quite opaque. He held his hands out in front of him and gasped slightly when he saw that he could see right through his own fingers. What the hell was going on?
Larry shrugged, "It just is, I suppose. There are some things they just don't tell you. It just is." Like most of the things he said, the response posed more questions than it answered. Larry suddenly turned his attention away from John and to something else, again not quite obvious.
John felt an increasing obligation to grab a hold of something to help him balance. Lifting his eyes in search of anything handy, he took in his surroundings for the first time. It was then when he realized the state of very deck they stood upon. There was nothing anywhere. No chairs, no tables, no people, nothing. except for the white paint on the ground, the deck was completely barren. Perhaps it was a good thing they were only on a dream cruise ship instead of a real one. The outdoor décor or lack thereof didn't seem all that inviting.
"I bet it looks rather empty, eh?" said Larry from somewhere behind John. "Did for me at first too… Don't worry though, we're not really alone."
John continued to glance about him for any source of what Larry was implying. "I don't see anything," he revealed in utter confusion, "Or anyone." He revealed the information hesitantly, worrying that he would sound stupid for saying such a thing. It was either him or Larry that was insane. Problem was, he didn't know which of them to suspect.
"I wouldn't expect you to, really," Larry said with a small chuckle. "I certainly didn't when I first got on! Boy howdy, was I confused! Not nearly as confused as you, though, my boy," his laugh subsided and he looked at John with a hint of forlornness. "I doubt you were expecting this like I was… I'm an old man, I've lived my life. But you… too young, much too young…" Larry shook his head and looked out into sea thoughtfully, leaving John once again more confused that in the first place.
John opened his mouth but quickly shut it, realizing that as rare as it was, he wasn't quite sure how to respond. The quips he would normally be able to dole out effortlessly just weren't coming, it seemed. The whole experience was much too surreal. He was quite possibly having one of his weirdest dreams yet. The events occurring were about as absurd as anything else he had ever imagined, even when the world around him was bending into psychedelic shapes brought on by the dizzying effects of LSD. All this needed was a flying unicorn on stilts and this'll be complete, mused John inwardly, as he stared at Larry's face as if hoping for some sign of what was going on in the young man's head (for, no matter how old Larry said he was, John was forty and Larry didn't appear to be over thirty, making it hard for John to believe his companions claims).
Larry chuckled lightheartedly, if a tad ruefully, at John's baffled expression. "Soon enough, you'll see for yourself." He shifted his gaze beyond John right then and waved, a momentary flicker of recognition springing into his friendly eyes.
"What?" John questioned urgently, turning around in circles to look behind him in order to follow his companion's gaze, "Who are y'waving to? What the bloody hell is going on?" As far as his eyes could see, there wasn't a single recipient of seemingly wasted polite gesture to be found. Only more empty deck. How utterly, terribly confusing…
"Hello, Darla," Larry called out, smiling now, "Beautiful weather we're having!"
Weather? John found his gaze lifting to the sky. Not only could he see nothing of this 'Darla' Larry seemed to be freely conversing with, but the thick fog that blanketed the ship hadn't lightened up in the least bit. Whatever 'weather' Larry seemed to be perceiving had to be something entirely different. As far as John's eyesight went, 'beautiful' hardly seemed to be the word for it. Had Larry gone mad? Cracked up? Or had he? The question surfaced once again in his addled mind. The events unfolding around him were growing more and more odd and unsettling. John hated not knowing what was going on, and wished more than anything to wake up… wake up from whatever kind of dream he was having.
John returned his gaze to Larry's face with a pronounced air of frustration. "Who is this Darla and why the hell can't I see her?" he demanded, his old anger starting to shine through again. He was beginning to get quite annoyed with the way things were unraveling thus far.
Larry subtly turned his attention back on him, unfazed by John's reaction. "I wouldn't expect you to be able to see her, John," he stated obscurely, in place of providing a direct answer to his inquiries.
"What do you mean?" John asked, "I know I'm bloody blind as a bat but I was never so bad off that I couldn't see things right in front of me own face…" He felt his face with an air of uncertainty as he spoke. He was still wearing his glasses, wasn't he? Yes, he was- the trademark round granny glasses that had perched on the bridge of his thin nose for so many years. He could feel the familiar wire rim with his guitar-roughened finger pad.
Larry calmly watched his companion's ongoing floundering moves with a slightly amused smile, "Earthly sight has nothing to do with it, as you'll soon find out," he simply affirmed.
John's searching fingers finally sought out the smooth feel of the frames encircling his eyes. "What are you on about anyhow?" he barked rather brusquely, allowing his hands to drop in a defeated manner away from his face.
"Calm down, lad," Larry said. "In time. Once you're through with it you'll see."
John narrowed his eyes in confusion. This man might as well have been speaking in riddle, "Through with what?" he asked, bemusement seeping into his tone to replace frustration.
"The final transformation, of course," Larry took a step back as though for the sole purpose of observation John's every flaw, "Where you always this inquisitive on earth?" he bluntly asked.
Just as John was about to open his mouth in a response of pronounced indignation, Larry dismissed the rhetorical question with a wave of the hand and a chuckle, "No matter. You'll understand all in good time." He started to walk away, his feet appearing to glide upon the wooden deck of the ship.
"But I—" John began.
"You'd best follow me, boy, lest you get left behind." Larry interrupted, not unkindly, "You've just one step to take."
"But what's this transformation?" John asked, daring to take a step in Larry's direction at his beckoning.
"You'll see."
Larry paused outside a door that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. "Well, here you go," he stated much too indifferently.
"I'm not doing anything until someone tells me what the bloody hell is going on around here!" John countered thus, petulance pervading his tone. He was fed up with Larry's dim half-responses. And even though John Lennon fancied himself an open-minded person, he was certainly not the kind who could go along with some mysterious, foreign plan without first knowing what he was getting himself into."
"Trust me, John. It'll all make sense later."
"Why me?"
"What do you mean, why you? Everyone kicks the bucket eventually, son. Granted your time is sooner than most, but we all have to do it, so you might as well now." The seriousness of his voice evaporated just then, and he grinned again. "Well, what are you waiting for then?"
Kicked the bucket? But that would mean… no, it couldn't possibly be. Forty year olds don't just up and die out of nowhere. And besides, he was just barely forty! It hadn't even been two months since John's birthday, coincidentally Sean's too… as he turned forty, his son turned five. Last John could remember, he had been in the limo with Yoko, talking about nothing in particular… they had gotten out and walked to the door of the building…and he couldn't quite recall what happened after that. His mind was oddly fuzzy. What could have happened between the limo and the door that could've killed him? It couldn't have been a car, like had killed his mother. Nobody drove on sidewalks, at least not to his knowledge. Perhaps things were different in America.
But what was John engaging in hypotheticals for? After all, it is only a dream… a supremely screwy dream, but a dream nonetheless. Or is it? A voice in his mind's eye reminded him. He quickly pushed the thought away and decided to go along with Larry's plan.
"Fine," he sighed, reluctantly admitting defeat. "What do I do?"
Larry shook his head in a tut-tut manner. "Haven't you ever opened a door before, boy?" he asked, "I can't do everything for you, you know."
John couldn't keep the frown from beginning to claim his face, and he bit back a sharp comment from his silver tongue with considerable difficulty. "But what's behind it?"
Larry shook his head again, "That's for you to discover on your own. I can't assure much else other than the fact that it won't kill you." He chuckled again lightheartedly at his own joke.
"Right because I'm already…" John rolled his eyes, finding no need to finish the obvious statement.
"That's right," Larry responded, smiling brightly despite the morbid subject matter. "Now go on, boy. See what it is that awaits you. It's different for everyone, depending on the type of life you led. Might bring happiness, might bring sorrow, it's all in the cards, boy… Good luck."
Cautiously, John settled a hand on the doorknob and gave it a twist.
It began instantly, as soon as he stepped into the room. The boat simply ceased to exist, Larry became unreality. One by one, distant memories almost forgotten, wrapped themselves around him like a coiled rope. He saw it all; his life as he'd lived it on earth. They flashed rapidly through the back of his mind holding him captive in a way similar to an oversized movie screen; one that seemed to enclose him like a bubble, taking up every square inch of space that surrounded him. It was as if he was simply reliving everything, living a life in the blink of an eye. Reliving a lifetime's worth of memories.
He saw his mother, beautiful Julia as she'd been throughout life, loving, charismatic and gentle before distance forced itself between them like a wedge. He saw his father, who he'd never gotten to know. A man who had disappeared when he was a child only to reappear in his life somewhere in his twenties with his impossibly young wife, looking for a bond that could never really be mended. He saw his younger half-sisters as he'd remembered them. Julia and then Jacqui, each one of them joyful little girls, with no idea of the tragedies that would shape their lives. He saw memories of how they'd interact as young ones. He saw his younger self giving Jacqui a reluctant piggyback ride. He'd climb trees with Julia whenever granted the chance to see her and together they'd get into quite the bit of mischief to Mimi's dismay… And then when they grew older he would smack around the boys who gave her trouble. Truly, he never visited as often as he'd liked. Rarely spent time with even his younger sister Jacqui. He saw another girl- Her name was Ingrid, and she was his sister… a sister whose existence he hadn't realized until now. John saw her now too, somehow instantly knowing it was her despite the fact that he'd never been granted the chance to see her before. She didn't carry the Stanley genes as all his siblings had. She was blonde, blonde and Norwegian raised, so successful at her life…He saw his aunt Mimi, the domineering mother figure who had taken it upon herself to provide care to his unruly self. He saw his uncle George as he'd been, loyally at Mimi's side.
And then he saw his lifetime's best mates as they presented themselves next. Stu, who he would act out with in art school, Stu with the beautiful paintings who had left the world all too soon. He saw Paul, his best friend, a wiring partner yes, but so much more… Paul, who understood him more than he did himself. And George, wonderful George, the little brother he'd never had, that he had watched grow from an awkward teen to the content man he was now… and Ringo, Ritchie to some, the ray of sunshine in everyone's life. All of them had helped him to keep his head above water at some point or another. All of them had helped him to realize the potential of life itself. They had kept him sane… usually. Oh, but how he'd loved them… They'd been his brothers, his real family, each and every single one of them…
He saw Cynthia Powell, his first real romance, a time full of botched dates and fumbled kisses, hesitant and trying, a romance of the young. Imperfect in every way possible, but they had been so happy... They might have fallen out eventually, the toll of their lives slowly prying him apart, but doubtless their love had once been so real and palpable, almost tangible even. And then his son, wonderful Julian, his firstborn who would always hold a special place inside his heart. Julian. He loved him. Loved him despite popular belief. Perhaps they could've had a better relationship had the circumstances been different, but life just hadn't been fair. It hadn't been fair to Julian and it hadn't been fair to him.
He saw Brian Epstein; the man that had been solely responsible for his initial rise to fame; his mentor. There was nobody he really had ever looked up to quite as much as Brian, to whom he owed almost everything he had.
He saw Yoko, his life partner, who'd not only encouraged him musically but helped him to his feet when he'd been so broken; shattered by a thing called life. She'd helped him to regain lost confidence. She'd embedded herself within him. They were two puzzle pieces, perfect fits whose lives had intertwined through the most wonderful of serendipities- or perhaps it had been by design that they had met. Truly, he wouldn't have lived as happy a life as he did without her. He saw Sean, his second born son. How happy he'd been when he was born. How proud, to see his son come into the world, to see him grow. John would fantasize about the day Sean would go to first grade, to college, his first job whatever it may be. He could see through Sean the woman his son would one day marry, the beautiful children that would be the light of his autumn years. And still he would wish that his little boy would stay little forever. He was at the peak of his life, everything had fallen into place after so many tumultuous years. Life had been perfect.
And nostalgia was imminent.
