Author's Note: Still warnings for language!

Beatles Cops Part II

Geo was there, rebandaging her arm. Again. He sighed as he looked at her, sitting in a daze from the illegal painkillers. He sighed, he didn't know the first thing about mending broken bones. He needed help. He needed John's help… Oh, John…

He was taken out of his melancholy stupor by EC, squeaking as she put weight on her injured arm.

"Don't do tha!" he said, looking at her like she was daft.

"Hehe, okays, Georgie Worgie," she giggled.

George groaned. HE couldn't do this. Bloody cops, if they-

Wait a tic, the cops!

'Course Officer McCartney would know all about this type of thing! The only problem was getting him to abandon his job for a few moments…

"Ouch!"

"Will ye stop tha already?"

Hmm… But maybe he wouldn't have to go to Officer McCartney after all…

Back at the police station, Officer Muenchow was getting laid off.

"Can't be shooting every criminal, me arse," she muttered, slamming her desk drawer.

Paul sat in silence, not quite knowing what to think. It was definitely going to be awkward for a while.

"if ye ever need anything…" Paul started, only to be cut off by his former partner.

"Save it, Macca. I don't need yer money," she growled.

Paul put his hands up in surrender.

Courtney sighed. "'m sorry, Paul."

"No hard feelings, love. Ye seen 'im yet today?"

"Nah, I figured I'd take a look on the way out."

Courtney had been visiting Lennon every day after the incident. She was lucky the hospital was only a block away, otherwise it would have been a long walk to the nearest one in Mayfair. Lennon had been in a coma almost all week, only waking up once for a few seconds.

However, as Courtney entered the room, a certain pencil-pushing rookie was sitting there.

"'ello, Officer Muenchow!" George Harrison called, cheery as always.

"Ex-officer," Courtney corrected bitterly, "Why are ye even here anyways?"

George shrugged. "To be honest, cos I knew ye'd be around. Ye see, I've got a problem, and I'd really like yer help-"

"'m not like tha, Geo," Courtney growled, rolling her eyes for good measure.

George coughed a bit in surprise. "Tha's… Tha's not what I meant. At all."

"Oh?"

"No. I meant, me friend's managed to get a bit of an injury, ye see, and… Well, to be honest once again, I can't keep giving her illegal painkillers."

Courtney was beginning to see the problem. "And I suppose a hospital's out of the question for yer particular patient?"

Geo smirked. "That'd be an accurate assumption, yeah."

Courtney paused. It had been her duty to bring criminals to justice, and they had booted her out for a single (if indeed serious) mistake. She couldn't suppress the need to turn against the organization that had thrown her into the streets.

"Alrigh, but just this once," she said, growling out the last part in her most authorative voice.

Geo chuckled nervously and got up. "Tha's all I asked, love. Follow me."

George led Courtney to the HQ, slipping through a thin crack in some rocks.

"Welcome to the Headquarters," he muttered, finding EC coming down off the medication. And having torn open the skin on her broken arm.

"What the ruddy hell did ye do?" George yelled, attempting to examine the multiple cuts she'd managed to inflict.

"There was bugs… Under me skin…" she replied slowly, looking around, "Johnny…? Where'd ye go?"

George cursed under his breath.

Courtney recognized the girl as the thief she encountered a week ago, her shoulder pain still serving as evidence to the encounter. However, looking at the girl hopped up on opiates, sitting against the wall of an abandoned subway station with a bleeding and broken arm… That was a bit worse.

"She can't stay here," she said, thinking out loud, "She'll get it infected and God knows what'll happen after tha."

"So… What'll we do?" George asked, attempting to rebandage the arm of the squirming girl.

Courtney had an idea, a mad idea, but what seemed like the only option.

"What about McCartney's place?"

For a moment, George just stared. "Are ye bloody BARMY?" he yelled, "McCartney's a devoted police officer! He'll turn 'er in the second 'e sees 'er!"

"Well, 's a better idea than jus leavin her to die, innit?" Courtney retorted.

Slowly, the shock began to leave Geo's face, leaving him looking hollow. "Argh. Guess tha's it, then."

"Paul won't turn 'er in. He's-er, was me partner. He'll do jus about anything to help me," Courtney assured him. Helping Geo drag EC to her feet, she hoped she was right.

Now, McCartney's flat was your average London apartment. Not too big, a sort-of sitting room, a kitchen and all that. Fairly orderly as well.

Until it was raided by George, Courtney and EC.

Courtney knew he had a bad habit of leaving his door unlocked, and sure enough, the flat was unguarded and all for the taking. Geo set about finding food while Courtney cleaned up EC's arm.

"'s not heads quarters…" she mttered spacily, George's last dose of opiates doing their job, "Where's Johnny?"

Courtney paused. "Er, he'll be along."

"Oh."

Paul's life was fairly normal outside of his uniform, so he fully expected to come home to his flat unoccupied and clean.

This was not the case.

Paul stood in the doorway and stared at George munching on a doughnut, Courtney trying to keep an apparently uncooperative EC still while she cleaned her wound.

"What the bloody hell's goin on?" He cried, more out of surprise rather than anger.

"Who's tha bloke? He's cute," EC said airily from her spot, upside down in an armchair.

Paul blushed a bit, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight of the spaced-out girl in his chair. "Uhm, ta."

"Paul, meet Emily, better known as EC," Courtney said, gesturing to the medicated girl, "She's also high as a kite at the moment."

"Johnny calls me his Ems," she giggled.

"Johnny…?" Paul said, piecing together the identity of the girl one bit at a time.

"Paul, wait-"

"Tha's her! Tha's the other thief!"

"Paul, hold on-"

"This is gear! Now we can-"

"JAMES PAUL MCCARTNEY!"

"What?"

"Will ye please shut up and listen?"

Paul looked at her, confusion written all over his face.

There was a thumo as EC fell off her chair and onto the floor. She kept giggling.

"I know who she is, but ye can't turn her in," Courtney said, righting the convict.

"What? Don't be daft, I have to! We both have to!"

Courtney sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

Geo spoke up. "Think, Paul, what'll happen when ye turn her in like this, eh? She'll get hounded by the press, they'll condemn John, ye may as well be signing her death sentence." He took another bite of his doughnut.

Paul struggled with that one; two conflicting morals battled it out in his head.

"Hehe, he's got the same eyes as me!" EC laughed.

Paul sighed. "Fine. But as soon as she's healed, 'm taking her in."

"Fine."

"Sure."

"Meow!"

It was obvious to all that Paul was going to have a rough time. However, the arrangement gave Courtney an idea.

"Paul, what if Lennon didn't really kill Mrs. Carda?"

"What? Don't be daft."

"I'm not! What if there was someone else involved that night?"

The light bulb in Paul's head lit up. "But wait… What'm I gonna do with her during the day? I can't exactly take her with me."

"Ye can drug her up," George offered.

Both Paul and Courtney glared at him.

"Sorry. Jus trying to help," he muttered.

"He may have a point…" Courtney said, looking at the drugged-up thief that was currently sprawled out across Paul's arm chair, about to begin scratching at the "bugs" under her skin again, "Otherwise she'll jus keep doing tha."

George hurried over and held her arm away, sighing as she giggled at the tingles it caused.

"Can't ye watch her?" Paul whined, not exactly eager to become a babysitter.

"No, I've got to go out and find the facts of the murder case."

"I can do tha!"

"Yeah, cos the bird tha visited John every day in the hospital an got fired is DEFINITELY not gonna be the first suspect on the list," Courtney said, rolling her eyes.

"Johnny!"

"Ye can always take a sick day, at least for tomorrow," Geo offered.

Paul groaned, leaning up against the occupied piece of furniture. EC twisted around to look at him.

"'Ello," Paul muttered.

Considering he hadn't been sick for the past three years he'd been in the force, it was fairly easy for the chief to buy his story.

His day of taking care of the thief began with pained moans. Lots of them.

"Ooooooooh…" EC moaned. What had happened? Her arm hurt even worse than befo- wait a tic… Something wasn't right… This wasn't her pile of rags. in fact, it wasn't a pile of rags at all.

"Oh, God," she muttered, trying to sit up. This ended in louder moans of pain.

"'Morning, sunshine," Paul muttered sarcastically, leaning on the doorframe. His back hurt from sleeping on the floor, but he wasn't so heartless as to make the injured criminal sleep there instead.

EC jumped, which illicited more moans, plus a curse or two. "What happened?" she finally muttered.

"Ye broke yer arm savin' yer accomplice, Harrison got ye hopped up on illegal opiates, and ye managed to shred yer arm trying to scratch at 'bugs'," he said, going over to inspect her arm, "Harrison asked me partner to fix yer arm, she said ye had to stay here, and we shagged."

"WHAT?" EC screamed, jerking away from Officer McCartney.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Kidding, love. Now sit still."

EC growled and begrudgingly let the police officer check her arm out.

"Yeah, we'll need to rebandage tha. Come 'ead," he said, helping the thief.

"Ta, officer," EC said, wincing at the pain.

"Paul."

"Hm?"

"Me name's Paul. Ye may as well use it," he said flatly.

"Right then. Ta, Paul," she said, pausing as he searched for bandages, "Mine's EC."

"Alrigh, EC, ye may want to find yer happy place. This is gonna hurt."

At the hospital, Courtney leaned up against the patient's bed, poring over the case file. Something just didn't add up here, all they had on John was a few prints on a window frame and a witness statement from a man named Richard, who was no angel himself, and had been suspected of being part of a crime ring.

She growled, the lack of evidence frustrating her. She instinctively knew John wouldn't have done anything to hurt the bird he'd been protecting (according to Harrison) since the incident.

Lennon mumbled in his sleep. His hand moved up to where the bullet had passed through his lung, his face scrunching up at his dream.

Courtney wondered what was going on in his mind before returning to the file.

John's chest hurt. Every breath hurt like hell. He was suffocating; he was positive this was the end… but he lived. Or something. He could see Ems, but something was wrong. She was crying. John tried to get closer, but stopped when something hit his chest, right where it hurt the worst. He looked up to see two cops; not just any two cops, but THOSE two cops. They were grinning. Big, chesire cat-style grins. They had her, his Ems, the girl that was like his little sister. He had to save her, but before he could, he heard a shot, and the pain exploded in his chest. Just like it had that night… that night… Oh no, God no! And he saw those eyes, those blue grey eyes.

And John woke up, yelling, "No! Bloody hell, No!"

Courtney fell out of her chair with a scream of surprise. "Bloody hell!"

John whipped his head around, trying to piece together where he was.

"Where the bloody hell am I?" John yelled, apparently not giving a damn if the whole hospital heard him.

"Ye're in London's biggest hospital, so keep it down!" Courtney said, gathering the pages that had gone flying.

John turned to look at her, making a small sound as his just-healed muscles stretched. "An jus who are ye?"

"Officer Muenchow, an I don't appreciate yer tone, ta," she said, her voice raising to match John's.

"Officer!" he growled, recognizing her, "Ye're the bloody nit tha shot me! Where's Ems? What've ye done to 'er?" His voice getting louder with each exclamation.

"Shut it!" Courtney said, trying to keep herself from slapping John right across his face, "She's fine. She broke her arm from jumping, so Officer McCartney's taking care of her."

"Ye left 'er with tha prick?" John demanded, tensing up.

"Excuse me, but 'tha prick' is me partner, and more capable of taking care of 'er than yerself!"

"An jus how do ye reckon tha?"

"Ye've been in a coma for a week!"

John stopped. "…A week?"

"Yes."

He hated to admit it, but if the officer was telling the truth, she was right; even a bloody police officer would be doing better than him.

Courtney watched his face go from complete rage to numb, and was a bit frightened by the complete change in demeanor. "Ye alrigh?"

"…Yeah… She's okay, though, yeah?"

"Other than the broken arm, she's fine."

"An tha McCartney git won't hurt 'er."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

John just nodded. Everything was gone. He'd kept her safe and free for this long, and then tripped up in the home stretch. And now he was going to go to prison.

"'ello?" Earth to Lennon."

John realized he'd been zoning out. "Sorry?"

"I said, I've got a bit of a proposition for ye. I don't think ye committed the murder all those years ago," Courtney said, waving the case file in her hand.

John narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Courtney continued, "Deal is, ye an EC help to solve this case here, an ye both go free. Well, maybe some fines for petty theft, but otherwise scot-free."

John thought for a moment. "…Alrigh, ye've piqued me interest. What 'm I gonna have to do?"

Courtney smirked a bit. Like shooting a fish in a barrel. "Ye help me find who really killed EC's mum."

"An we're both free to go?"

"Free as a bird."

John smiled. "Alrigh, but first I have to let a certain bullet wound heal."

Courtney sighed. She could tell he wasn't going to ever let her forget that. Ever.

The next day, Paul convinced his superiors that he should be John's guard, now that he was conscious, and managed to sneak EC in as well.

"Johnny!" EC screamed, hugging her friend as best she could with one good arm.

Paul glared.

"'ey, love!" John said, wincing just a bit, then returning Paul's glare, "Tha git hasn't done anything to ye, has he?"

EC was completely oblivious. "Course not! He's been helpin heal me arm!"

While the two caught up, Courtney took a moment to talk with her partner. Or rather, AT her partner. Paul wasn't listening.

"…Are ye even listening to me, Macca?" she snapped.

"Wha- Oh! 'Course I am!" he said, not evening looking at her.

Admittedly, Courtney was avoiding looking at the pair for the same reason Paul was staring so intently at the two, feeling an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. Over the course of the day, her conversations with John had exposed his wit, and also the little-seen soft side of the street-hardened thief.

John was switching between returning Paul's glare and staring at Officer Muenchow.

EC smirked at his painfully obvious attraction to the policewoman. "So, ye fancy the police bird?"

"Wh-what? No! 'Course not! How d'ye reckon tha?" John sputtered defensively.

EC giggled.

"What about ye an tha Paul git? He's been glaring at me the whole bloody time! I think he's jealous," he said with a smirk, waving a bit at the officer.

EC rolled her eyes. "Yeah, John, he's completely taken with ye, 'm sure."

"Ruddy queer, he is."

Courtney and Paul rejoined the thieves then, Courtney ready to discuss the plan she'd thought out.

"Right, the way I see it, this Richard character's got a lot more to do with the case than just being a witness," she said, taking out a photo of a man with a large nose and deceivingly innocent eyes.

EC stared at the photo, her eyes growing wider. She knew that man. She knew that man all too well. That was the man that had been hanging around that night…

This was it, tonight she was gonna run away with John. He said she couldn't live there anymore; the house was slowly killing her, and she needed to be free. She knew this, and knew John would take care of her until she came back.

Suddenly, a familiar brown mop appeared at the window, a set of brown eyes peeking over the sill.

EC was ready-just needed one last thing. She motioned for John to come in, and together they crept down the stairs to get a special postcard from the kitchen; the only reminder of her old life aside from her coat, and an emergency way of contacting her mum.

However, the kitchen was not in its usual pristine state. Instead, it was covered with blood, and reeked of death.

EC almost screamed, but John covered her mouth before she had the chance, motioning for her to stay, he creeped into the kitchen, and was confronted with a knife. EC did scream then, fleeing up the steps as she heard something crack (which, as it turned out, had been John punching the man as he tried to take after EC.

EC had fled the scene in time… However, John hadn't been so lucky. She'd seen him come running out of the house as sirens approached, leaving bloody footprints in the yard. When he got to EC, he told her to go to the place he'd shown her the day they played hooky together, and wait for George. With that, he tore across the neighborhood, luring them away from EC's position.

EC gasped when she felt two hands shaking her shoulders, and snapped out of her trance-like state. Paul was in front of her, looking very concerned.

"Get off 'er, ye loony!" John growled. He would've normally beat anyone that dared touch his EC, but his injury prevented him from doing much of anything.

"Piss off," Paul retorted, then turned back to EC, "Ye alrigh, EC?"

She nodded slowly.

"There, now back off," John growled.

Paul sat next to EC as she recovered.

"Right then," Courtney said, rubbing her hands together, "Visiting hours are almost over, so let's all go home and get ready for some serious business tomorrow, yeah?"

Paul nodded, taking EC's hand.

Her face got a hint pinker, but it looked normal since she'd blanched during her flashback.

"But what if I don't trust 'im with her?" John complained, even though they'd already left.

"She'd perfectly alrigh. Paul's the most trustworthy person I know."

John pouted, bearing a striking resemblance to a young child with his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed.

Courtney grinned a bit. "I think ye jus don't want to be left alone," she teased.

"…So?" John muttered. He never did like hospitals, and definitely wouldn't mind the company of a certain pretty bird.

Courtney didn't know how to respond to that one. As much as she wanted to stay, the hospital staff would never allow it. "Er, sorry… 's against the policy… I can't stay."

John hmphed.

"G'nigh, then," Courtney said, turning to leave.

"What? No good nigh kiss or nothing? Oh, ye break me heart, ye do," John said, Lennon smirk back on his face.

"An I suppose ye want me to tuck ye in too?"

"Tha'd be nice."

Courtney chuckled. "Nigh, John." To be honest, she wouldn't have minded giving him a kiss.

'I'm warm, for once. Nice and warm…' EC thought as she slowly awoke, not quite wanting to get up yet. Suddenly, she realized she's not the only person in bed.

She froze up, terrified of who she was with and where she was… Until she remembered that it was only Paul, face buried in her hair and arm thrown around her waist.

She blushed a bit, not wanting to move but not wanting to face Paul when he woke up. Finally, she decided to stay where she was and drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming about the man that held her.

Courtney waltzed into Paul's flat, becoming quite worried when she saw both the kitchen and couch uninhabited.

"Paul?" she said, making her way around the flat, and finally coming to Paul's bedroom, "Paul, ye better hope ye didn't do what I think ye did," she mumbled, thinking of John's likely murderous reaction.

She nudged the door open, hardly bearing to look.

"JAMES PAUL MCCARTNEY!"

Paul jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Wha? Wha happened? Wha's wrong?" Paul said as he whipped his head around frantically, searching for any danger, but only finding his irate partner.

But, of course, she was dangerous in her own right.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YE THINKING, YE-"

Paul had practically thrown himself across the room and clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Sh!"

Fortunately, EC could likely sleep through a bomb raid, and he forced his rather unccoperative colleague into the next room.

"Now, jus let me-"

"Do ye have ANY idea wha John's gonna do to ye?"

"Look, 's not like tha, alrigh?" Paul said, trying to calm her down long enough to tell her what happened.

"Well, then, wha IS it like, McCartney? Cos it looks like ye jus took advantage of 'er!" she snarled.

Paul rolled his eyes. "No, she was jus freaked out after 'er little episode yesterday an she didn't wanna be left alone."

Courtney glared.

"Cross me heart an hope to die."

"…Alrigh. But if John comes after ye, don't come runnin to me. Now get dressed. Ye look weird in jus yer boxers."

EC was cold again. She curled up, trying to regain the heat that had left. Her mind hazily registered the fact that she was short one warm scouse, and figured she'd been dreaming the whole time. However, when she opened her eyes to see said scouse pulling on some trousers, her heart just about stopped. She snapped her eyes closed again, desperately wanting a peek, but not daring to. Not until she felt a hand on her shoulder and a voice telling her to wake up.

EC opened one sleep-filled eye, blinking a few times before opening the other as well.

Paul almost couldn't resist the urge to lean down and kiss her.

'Think of tha git. Think of what he'd do to ye.'

"Time to get up, love. We've gotta go out an get looking about for tha Starkey arse," he said.

"Okay," EC replied, her voice raspy, "Ta for stayin by me, Paul. Means a lot.

'There's things worse than death, McCartney, much worse.'

"Don't mention it, love."

He mentally cursed John as he walked out.

Over the next few weeks, both pairs worked diligently to fond their suspect. Paul and EC doing the grunt work, and Courtney and John spending long hours looking for potential evidence. Mostly Courtney in the latter partnership.

"John, cut it out."

"Gimme one good reason."

"Cos 's annoying an doesn't help in the least."

"Tha' all ye got?"

"'s a reason, innit?"

"Oh ho ho! Is the lil police officer getting touchy?"

"John, do ye need to be sent to the naughty corner?"

"What can I say? 'M a naughty boy."

Courtney snorted. That man was the most frustrating person on the planet sometimes.

He illustrated this perfectly by poking the side of her head repeatedly.

"John…" she started.

"Can't be helped, love. Ye're simply too cute when ye're mad," he smirked, knowing she couldn't stay mad at him when he said things like that. That's not to say he didn't mean it; she really was terribly cute when he got her ticked off.

He rested his head on top of hers. He'd been doing that a lot lately… of course, Courtney wasn't complaining.

The room was silent for a while.

"Courtney?" John asked, his demeanor suddenly very serious.

"Yeah, love?"

"What're we gonna do when we find this arsehole?"

"Paul'll arrest "im," she replied simply.

"I meant after tha."

Courtney paused. "…I dunno…"

Silence.

"An… I s'pose I'll jus go back to livin wherever?"

"No! Of course not!" Courtney said, appalled at the idea of John going back to his former residence, "In fact, I'd let ye stay with me. I-if ye want to, tha is."

"…I'd like tha."

That was it. No jokes, no sarcastic comments, just those three words. And somehow, they managed to make Courtney giddy.

John cleared his throat. "Erm… Actually… I guess what I was asking is… Well, if ye wanted to… I dunno…"

Courtney's stomach had managed to acquire a few thousand butterflies as he spoke, waiting for that one question…

John and Courtney jumped as Paul burst into the room, EC at his side. Both were gasping for breath, like they'd been running for miles.

Finally, Paul managed to find his breath. "We've found him."

"Who?" John growled, angry at being cut off.

"Starkey, of course!" Paul snarled back, "Jus the bastard we've been lookin for the past month or so!"

EC put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he and John could get into a fight.

"We found tha he's hidin out at an old warehouse in Manchester," she finished.

"Manchester? That's hours away!" Courtney said, thinking of how much time they'd have before the staff were top realize John had gone missing.

"Exactly, so we'll need to move fast," Paul said, fidgeting. He didn't like the plan, didn't like it at all. The plan in question involved EC and Courtney scouting ahead, with John following after them, since there was the most risk Richard would recognize him. Finally, Paul would move in for the arrest, and (assuming everything went according to plan) Richard would be in custody by nightfall.

Of course, this meant that EC and Courtney would be sharing the most dangerous part of the mission, and that was the part Paul couldn't stand. If something happened…

He couldn't bring himself to think of it.

Mere moments later, everyone had piled in a van and taken off for Manchester, on the way to the arrest they'd been working on for more than a month.

John was trying not to show it, but he was a wreck. His injury was still painful, and that meant if he over-exerted himself, he could very well reopen the wound in his lung, and it'd be all over. He watched fitfully as they crossed the Manchester bridge.

Courtney was in a similar state, with a bit more of a rush. This was it. If they made this arrest, John's name would be cleared and… maybe he would get around to asking her whatever it was he had started earlier. The thought of what it could be gave her a thrill, and she let the acceleration go a bit harder.

EC was all-out adrenaline high. She'd been on plenty of heists with Johnny, and she knew exactly how things went. She may have to look after that cop, she decided, but otherwise, this was going to be fun. She just had to keep an eye on Paul; she wasn't sure she could sleep without the scouser anymore, and she sure didn't want to try it.

Arriving in Manchester, they stowed the van in a convenience store parking lot. After going through the plan, EC and Courtney headed for the nearby warehouse, and residence of a certain murderer.

Paul and John had doughnuts.

EC and Courtney snuck in through a ventilation shaft, crawling through what seemed like miles of metal and loud fan noises, before finally landing on top of some crates in a shadowy corner of the warehouse. They were in.

"So…" Paul said, tired of just waiting for Courtney to radio him.

"Look, ye, jus what're yer motives with Ems?" John said, taking a fierce bite of his powdered doughnut.

Paul was taken off guard. "W-wha?"

"Ye heard me."

"Uh, I dunno, she's jus stayin with me…" Paul sputtered, trying to think of the right words.

"Ye haven't shagged 'er then?" John said, glaring daggers at Paul.

"What? No!"

John paused. "Good. Cos if ye're gonna go an break 'er heart, ye've got another thing comin."

Paul was insulted. "I'd never hurt her, ye bastard! An jus what're ye doin with Courtney, anyroad?"

John almost choked on his doughnut. "…Ahem, 'scuse me?"

"Well? I've seen the way ye look at her! Are ye gonna straighten out, or am I gonna have to kick yer arse straight for ye?"

"Tha won't be necessary," John muttered. He'd happily do that and more for Courtney any day.

Suddenly, the radio came on.

"Lemon," it stated.

"Well, go on," Paul said, although John had already started to stand up, "An be careful, yeah? I don't want Courtney dealin with a broken heart either."

John nodded and ran off.

Courtney and EC were looking down an aisle created by stacked crates, a light shining down the center. He was walking down it. Richard Starkey. It all came down to this.

He looked up at them and grinned. EC knew something had gone wrong, and followed her instinct to high-tail it while Courtney chose to put Starkey in her crosshairs.

"Before ye shoot, I should probably warn ye tha me mates won't take it well."

Courtney lowered her gun and fled as well, dodging around two men that had moved into place to try and capture her.

'Like I'd be that easy to catch,' she thought, jumping down onto a different level.

Of course, she didn't see the ex-military sniper that was waiting for his chance to take a shot.

EC was on the run, trying desperately to get back. She had to get to Paul and John, she had to get back to the ventilation shaft.

One of the henchmen from below smashed a crate that Starkey had placed for that occasion, and she jumped, scrambling for something to hold onto as she fell.

Starkey laughed. Everything was going well.

"J-john! S-somethin's gone wrong!" the radio in John's hand hissed.

"Oh, God," John panicked, "Courtney! Courtney, love, what happened? Where are ye?"

No reply.

John cursed and sprinted back to Paul.

"McCartney! Somethin's wrong!" he cried, his lungs burning.

Paul's heart sank into his stomach. "What do ye mean, wrong?" he replied, standing up from the curb.

"I dunno, Courtney jus called and said somethin was wrong an she won't answer an-" John was about to continue his panicked rambling when the radio came back to life.

But it wasn't Courtney's voice from the other end.

"Ello, lads," a distinctly male Liverpudlian voice cackled, "Me mates an I seem to've caught a few birds in me warehouse."

Paul and John were frozen.

"Pretty little things, too. Would really be a shame if something were to happen to 'em."

"Ye bastard," John whispered, although Richard hadn't finished yet.

"Of course, no matter how pretty they are, they were trespassin, an I jus can't have that."

"Ye bastard!" John said, getting louder.

"Tick tock, lads," Richard snickered.

"Ye bloody fucking bastard!" John yelled. He was scared to death, not knowing what Richard was going to do to Courtney, and not sure he could do much about it, but determined to strangle the hell out of anyone that so much as TOUCHED her. "Well, McCartney? What're we gonna do?"

Paul looked dazed. He didn't know what to do. EC, the girl he had helped recover and slept beside for almost a month, was in the hands of a murderer, who was probably all too eager to slit her throat.

John was shaking him violently. "Goddamnit, PAUL! Snap the bloody hell out of it!" he snarled, "Pull yerself together, man!"

Paul blinked, coming out of it a little. "I…I dunno."

Courtney was in a dark room. This was where her captors had thrown her, blood streaming from a hole in her arm.

Suddenly the door opened and revealed a blinding shaft of light. And in stepped Richard Starkey, crooked smile across his face. Cold blue eyes locked on her.

"Ello, love. How's yer little injury there?"

Courtney didn't acknowledge him.

"Y'know, yer friends are gonna be coming in a minute."

Courtney looked up, hoping to God he didn't mean Johnny.

"I figured we oughta give "em a little surprise," he said, his grin turning to a bloodthirsty snarl, "Shame yer prints are gonna be on the gun tha kills tha John boy."

Courtney's heart stopped. He couldn't make her shoot him… could he?

"Course, ye've already shot 'im once, haven't ye?"

Courtney leaped at him, crying out as he grabbed the part of her arm the bullet had passed through.

"I don't think so," he growled wrenching her arm and sending her to the ground. With that, he left.

With the other bird being unconscious until the officer's arrival, Richard pulled out a cig and lit it, smirking as he blew smoke into the air. It didn't what they tried to do; they were all going to die, one way or another.

He was notified of the officer's capture first. It seemed he'd had some fight in him, and managed to crack the skull of one of his workers.

"Damn," he muttered. They didn't come cheap.

But no matter, it was time for him to play a game with Mr. McCartney, and he intended to have some fun.

It seemed like forever since Courtney had seen the light, and she liked it that way. The longer the light stayed out, the longer John would have to live.

But all things must come to an end, and the light finally did return, two men coming in and gagging her before dragging her from her solitude. She was brought to a shadowy alcove beneath some crates, one man shoving a gun into her grip, the other twisting her arm and pressing the barrel of another gun to her head.

"It's shoot or get shot," one said quietly, not wanting to alert their prey with his gravelly voice.

Courtney nodded. And they all waited for their quarry to arrive.

Paul was goose-stepped to a large room-type area. When he was finally released, his hand immediately flew to his holster… finding it empty.

Someone chuckled from across the room. "A little unprepared, McCartney?" Richard stood there, an unmoving EC on the ground.

Paul's breath caught in his throat, and he made one step towards her.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Richard exclaimed, his cold eyes glittering like those of a cat who has just caught a mouse, "I wouldn't do that."

"An why not?" Paul spat, desperate to help her.

Richard produced a knife. "Because with each step you take, I get to inflict a bit more damage on her."

Paul froze up.

"Of course, you could just kill me, if you can get to the gun without killing her," he said, gesturing to a table in one corner of the room.

There John was, sprinting across the crates, probably trying to save her. In her mind, she begged him to turn back, to run away, anything but keep running. On of her captors forced her to take a bead on him, the other pressing the cold barrel of his gun into her temple.

Paul was terrified. There was no way he could win, no matter what happened, EC was going to die.

"Tick tock, Mr. McCartney," Richard said, waving his knife so it caught the light, "Even if you don't move, she'll get hurt. It's just a matter of how much blood she can lose before bleeding out."

He couldn't move.

"Tha's too bad. ye just wasted a step," he said in mock sorrow as he easily put a large cut in EC's arm.

"Don't touch her!" Paul yelled, suppressing the instinct to rush to her side.

Richard grinned. "Tick tock, Mr. McCartney."

All Paul could do was hope that the pain would wake EC as he made his way, step by agonizing step, to the gun. Soon, EC was blinking and Paul's heart raced. There was hope!

Richard saw this movement too, and growled. Seeing Paul was no longer moving, he gave a cold grin before inflicting a huge wound on her wrists. "Time's up," he muttered.

EC screamed and threw him back, leaving him off-balance.

Paul cried out and sprinted the last few steps to the gun and attempted to shoot him, but found it had no bullets.

He had to get to Courtney. That was all John cared about now. Paul would get EC, but he needed to save Courtney.

John ran along the edge of a line of crates, looking for the girl he more or less thought of as his bird.

'I'll have to ask her out. If we live through this, that is,' he thought, a grim smile on his face as he continued over the sea of boxes.

Courtney wanted to scream to him, to tell him to turn back, but she was gagged and John was nearly there. She didn't feel the tears running down her face, and she didn't care. She knew she didn't want her Johnny to die.

'I'm sorry, John,' she thought as her finger tightened on the trigger.

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse.

But Paul didn't hear it. He had thrown himself at Richard, determined to kill him. Richard had almost escaped, his plan of leaving the gun unloaded having been discovered and foiled, but Paul had been too quick, and now they were rolling on the floor, each trying to beat the other senseless. Richard reached out and grabbed the knife he had dropped. He grabbed it and sent it across Paul's arm, leaving a deep gash and running as Paul reeled in pain from the wound.

Paul watched him leave for a second, catching his breath before he remembered EC. He crawled over a few feet to where she sat, watching the blood pour from her wrists in her stupor.

"It hurts, Paulie…" she muttered as Paul took her in his arms.

"I know, I know. It's ok, someone's gonna show up. Ye did really good."

They sat in silence then. One with a bleeding heart, the other bleeding out.