Don't kill me, but this chapter might not be one hundred percent historically accurate. I know, I know! That is one of the three major Don'ts when writing a serious (and yes, I do consider my fic to be quite serious) Beatles fanfiction. The other two being don't confuse their names and don't hate on the hair…beards, go ahead, because those were fugly (haha Flippzy-gurl). But I would NEVER commit the other two crimes, so maybe it's excusable for this time…? Oh, and by the way, my poll is still up. I know I've decided, but I'm still gonna post the result (right now the leader is kinda surprising) once I feel that everybody who's gonna vote has voted. Okay? So, with that, here is my promised George chapter!

"Brian, this is A.J. A.J., Brian."

My introduction to Brian Epstein was short and to the point, and much like the man himself. As soon as John had told him who I was, he stalked off, dragging Paul along with him. Paul glanced over his shoulder, giving me a wistful wink, before continuing along inside of the studio.

Brian looked quite alarmed, glancing from me to Ringo to George to the door of the studio and then right back to me. When no one offered him any information, he sighed, putting a hand on one hip. "Which one of you did it?"

"Did what?" Ringo asked innocently. "She came on to us!"

The manager's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. "Oh, relax," George lamented, shaking his head wearily. "It's nothing that you wouldn't expect from John." And with that, he too walked off and into the recording studio. Ringo nodded to me, then followed him.

"I'm so sorry for whatever they might have done. I'm always telling them to be more careful, but that damn John Lennon-"

"NO!" I stopped him, and he continued to look distressed at my tone. "No," I said again much calmer, "that's not what happened at all. But I don't think you'd believe me if I told you…which I'm not going to do."

Brian narrowed his eyes, observing me shrewdly. "Hmmmm," he hummed after a second. "You don't seem to be with child, quite the opposite, actually. And you look to be about George's age, so there can't be any problem with your daughter…no wedding band, so that rules that one out. Huh. It seems you've stumped me." He looked back into my eyes, and I could see some of the stress melting away. "And American, too! So humor me; where did the boys find a girl like you?"

It took me a moment to take all of that in, but once I had, I took a deep breath and tried to arrange my thoughts. To be honest, it sort of felt like meeting your boyfriend's mom for the first time. "Uh, America." No! Stupid, insolent girl! You weren't supposed to tell him that! Didn't we already discuss this before we came? Brian doesn't find out!

However, he just ran a hand over his face tiredly. "Well, I can't honestly say that I'm too surprised. Don't tell me though, I think I'd rather not know." Shaking his head, he began to walk away, muttering under his breath. Glancing back and seeing me, he suddenly stopped, backtracking.

"You can go now," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. "This can be just another story you tell all your little girlies."

I didn't move, and for once, I didn't know what to say. When he saw this, he sighed. "Why aren't you gone?"

I cleared my throat unsteadily, figuring this was a direct question and I HAD to answer. "I don't have anywhere to go. You can thank Them for that one." I rolled my eyes a bit bitterly, and I thought I saw him smile hesitantly.

"Then you're staying at their place?"

It was amazing how fast he came to these conclusions. Actually, it was quite amusing. I wondered what the most interesting (and/or frustrating) situation the Beatles had ever gotten into…that Brian had had to bail them out of, of course. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I did last night."

He gave me a knowing nod, and the small smile that I thought had crept onto his sullen face disappeared. "Oh. Well, then I don't know what to tell y-"

"Don't act like you know me," I interrupted, cocking my hip and shifting my weight. I was kinda pissed, with him assuming that and all.

He glanced around uncomfortably. "Er…excuse me?"

"Yes, excuse you," I snapped, happy that my thoughts had cleared long enough for me to go into Attack Mode. "I have a lot of things going on right now, and I CERTAINLY don't need you all up in here ASSUMING shit about me. No, I'm not another one of the little bar-girls they pick up all the time, and I didn't sleep with any one of them. Actually, they practically BEGGED me to come back to this God forsaken place, so I would watch it, because I could leave any second, and I'm sure that the Beatles would NOT be very happy when they found out that you were the one that did it."

Brian's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out at all. It might have been pretty funny, but I was WAY too pissed to notice. I shook my head in disgust, sauntering off toward where the boys had entered the studio, leaving a shaken Brian Epstein in my stormy wake.

When I entered the Abbey Road studio, all four boys looked up at me. I must have been quite the sight, now that I think about it. I shook my head, muttering under my breath and striding over to an empty chair. Paul and George exchanged a look, and George put down his guitar and walked across the room to sit next to me.

"So, I take it you enjoy Brian about as much as we do?" He smiled shyly, looking down at his feet. The rest of the Beatles took their famous places; Ringo behind the drum set, Paul with his bass, John and his guitar right up front. They space between Paul and John looked so empty without George standing there, plucking away on his guitar.

"I don't like people who think they know things without asking." I didn't say what I wanted to, which was that in a few years all four of the boys would be saying how much they owed Brian Epstein and how much they loved him. But right now they could resent him all they wanted.

George nodded. "Yeah. But we gotta deal with it. If what you said is true, then it'll pay off in the end." He stared off out the window, smiling faintly. It struck me how…wise he sounded.

"Hey, George?" I don't know why, but I was suddenly remembering last night, when Paul and George had told us about Jeanie and Maggie Mae. God, was that really last night? It seemed like a million years ago!

"Mm?"

"What's the real reason that you take care of Jeanie sometimes?" I looked straight at him, and though he wouldn't meet my gaze, his sallow cheeks reddened.

"Shhh," he finally hissed, taking a quick glimpse of John before turning back to me. "I don't understand."

I could tell by his face that he, in all actuality, DID understand. I bit my lip, staring right into his intense, dark brown eyes. "Don't give me that shit. You know John can't hear us." Automatically, we both glanced at John. His brow was furrowed, and he was plucking away on his guitar, as though searching for some unknown note.

George sighed, shaking his head. "I…I don't think you would understand." He looked down at his hands, which were twisting precariously in his lap. His already red cheeks darkened.

I don't know what I expected before. In truth, I hadn't really thought before I asked the question. But now that I knew George didn't want to tell me, I REALLY wanted to know. Funny how that works, isn't it? People just seem to thrive off of other's humiliation. Though I didn't want to embarrass George…but he was making this way more difficult than it had to be. God!

"Don't you even TRY to act all high and mighty! I am just as old as you, mister, and I can get everything that you say. And regardless of your opinion of my intellect, what in your life can be so complicated that you don't think I could possibly comprehend it?" I crossed my arms in triumph, and he slowly turned his head to face me again, a smile creeping onto his thin features.

"I don't doubt your intelligence." His eyes twinkled a little bit, and he was grinning full force now, as if I was totally amusing him. For some reason, that made me SO frustrated.

"Then why won't you tell me?" I gave him my evilest eye, but he just chuckled, looking down at his hands again. Suddenly, he looked back up at me.

"You know why I won't tell you? Because I don't even understand it myself." He took a deep breath, but he didn't take his eyes off mine.

I considered this new information. "Well…maybe I could help you." He looked doubtful, so I added, "If you tell me, I'll tell you a secret."

George held out his hand. "Deal." I picked up mine to shake it, but he slapped it down. Instead, he reached out, separating my pinky from the rest of my fingers, then wrapped his around it.

Uhhhh, tell me that I didn't just pinky-promise with George Harrison.

"Really, George? Really?" I giggled, because I literally had NOTHING else to say.

He nodded solemnly. "Anyone can break a stupid little handshake, but no one DARES break the Pinky Promise. It is a sacred ritual, and only the purest of heart can partake in it." His face was COMPLETELY straight the entire time, too. And I'm sitting there going 'Whhhaaaaaattttt?'

"Um, okay?" Then, at the same time, we both burst out laughing. And honestly? A good laugh was exactly what I needed. John, Paul, and Ringo looked over at us at the same time, and they all smiled and looked back down in sync, too. I wonder what they were thinking….

I tuned back into the sound of our harmonized laughter, and I found myself once again wondering what George's secret was. It had to be about Jeanie and Maggie Mae, but what…? My thoughts were flying as finally our laughter settled down, and my abs aching as though I had just done a hundred sit-ups.

"Haha, Harrison, you're still not getting out of this one." My comment brought him down a little bit from his Happy High, but he was still smiling as he began to nod his head.

"Yeah, I did Pinky Promise." He hesitated a second, his smile fading slightly again.

"George. Just tell me. I can guarantee you that my secret is ten times better." I smiled gently, softening my ever-present stare.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, but never, ever is this to be repeated."

"Okay, okay," I said impatiently, waving my hand in the air to signal him to get a move on.

Another deep breath. "I think you should promi-"

"GEORGE!"

He put his hands up in uneasy surrender. "Fine." He closed his eyes and exhaled dramatically. "Maggie Mae lived with us for a pretty long time, and she and I became pretty close. I…well, I think I may be a little bit in love with her, but that is WAY beside the point. The fact is, I would lay down my life for that girl. So, when she cheated on John and got…you know…I didn't want to believe it; it was almost like I couldn't. I found where she was staying with her sister, and I asked her what REALLY happened. She said that it was John's baby, that she never cheated on him in the first place. She said she still loved him, but that it was too late to fix whatever twisted relationship they had. So, I helped her out a little bit, and the baby came, and she started to run out of options. I offered to help out with Jeanie, seeing as it WAS one of my best mate's kid, and I came to really like the brat. Then Paul found out, and you after that it was a mess. But Paul doesn't know that Jeanie really is John's daughter, and neither does John. Nor will he ever, if Maggie Mae has her way. So, you can NEVER tell this to anybody, future or present, because it would be bad news for John…and Jeanie, too. I don't know how he doesn't realize that she's his. I mean, she's practically his mini-me, except for the hair. I think it's in the eyes. She has eyes JUST like him, except brilliantly blue, like Maggie Mae's. Sort of like yours are."

By the time he finished, his words were ringing in my ears. John was Jeanie's father, and Jeanie was MY mother, making John my…. SHIT!!! No, this can NOT be happening to me! All those years…Grandma Ryan was LYING to me…lying to my mother. And to top it all off, I had John Lennon eyes. I DON'T WANT JOHN LENNON EYES!!!

"A.J., you Pinky Promised. What's your secret?" For a second he looked smug, then his face fell. "Are you alright?"

I looked up at him, my vision shaky. I could literally feel the blood draining from my face, and I felt like I was going to topple off my chair. I tried to steady myself, but my hands were trembling to badly to grip anything.

"A.J.?"

My eyes widened, and my eyelids started to flutter. Panic seeped into my skin as I tried desperately not to glance over at John, who was still frustratedly strumming his guitar. However, my mind took sudden control over my wandering eyes, and I forced myself to look back at George. He reached out and put a comforting hand on my arm, frowning and leaning in to have a better look at me.

"George…" I mumbled, feeling a strange need to tell him exactly what was going on. "He's…Maggie Mae…John…."

"A.J., you're scaring me. What's going on?"

I took a deep, evening breath. "Jeanie is my mother, George. So that makes John…that makes him my grandfather."

Annnnnnnd CUT! Brilliant job, A.J. I could really FEEL that horror. Nice, now go get some water. Anywho, I stayed up super late just to get this chapter out to you, and I feel that it is one of my best. I just love George. I think that if I had a secret to tell and I had to tell any one of the Beatles, I would tell George. Or maybe Ringo, because he would be the least likely to write a song about it but, as George would say, that is WAY beside the point. So, John-fans, does this please you enough? I incorporated him in my story. He gets to be a grandpa, not that he knows it…YET! *insert evil maniacal laughing here* Sooooo, PLEASE review, and again, I'm sorry that I haven't been updating THAT quickly, but I would say that I got this one out pretty damn quick for the amount of stuff that I had to do this week. THANKS!!!