7th February 1964(Heathrow Airport, London England, early),

I've spent a lot of my life being in the presence of people heavily in the public's eye, while I myself was to be kept as far as possible from it. Up until that first day of the tour, there was only one other occasion when I'd slipped, and accidentally reviled myself to the public. It the day that word spread that my fathers plane went missing and investigators came to our house and discovered me. They instantly wondered who I was, and while family members tried to insist that I was someone else's kid, when they pointed to a picture and asked who my father was, I showed them. After all I wasn't stupid.

Reckon they weren't too happy with the scandal and bad name the family name got after the whole story was said and done, which is probably why none of the other Stirring's mined me, and shipped me off first chance they got, but that's a entirely different rant for a entirely different time.

And now I'd gone and done it again with the boys, and I didn't figure they'd be too pleased either. I laid on the ground for a moment, shocked at my own stupidity, the impact of what I'd just done rushing over me and the start of tears forming in my eyes. For a moment, everyone seemed to pause, before they all snapped back to life and suddenly were all about me.
"How'd a fan get back here?!"

"Who's that girl!"

"What is she? Ten? Ten is a young age."

"She broke my camera!"

"You'll have to pay for that miss!"

"Who the hell is she?"

"Wait...a kids back here? Get her out!"

Voices drifted through the air and everyone seemed to be attacking me at once, not at all caring that I could here them, or that my back really hurt, or that I had some glass in my wrist. A hand reached for me sloppily, the same one that'd tried to catch me. It meant me with another, familiar and welcoming voice.

"God, Peggy are you alright?" Cher had helped me up and looked at me sort of concerned. Her eyes went to my now bleeding hand and she sighed. It wasn't an annoyed sigh, but more of a worried one. Cher was sort of like a big sister. We were the only single girls the Beatles hung around on a regular basis really, and our fathers knew each other well from school.

"Had to go and trip didn't you spaz?" She said it with a smile, and I knew she was teasing, but I was too nervous to laugh. The camera's owner stood over the shambles of his beloved camera and seemed to not know what to do first, have a good long cry, or rip me in two.

"No, no she's with us honest!" The boys, their wives and Eppy and Thompson were all trying to calm everyone down with explaining me and I caught their looks. They seemed to all have the same thoughts as the camera guy about me.

Cher grabbed my other hand(the one without glass in it) before anyone had a chance to grab me and force me to face the scene, which was very kind of her considering I was very close to breaking down. I knew this was it, I'd screwed myself. I could forget about having a bass or anything nice like free time to go a visit the boys considering what I'd have to sell and work to pay for that camera, let alone go on the tour. There was no way they'd be stupid enough to let me come with them now.

I didn't realize it, but Cher had lead me to the wash room and once we were alone, I let myself have a good long cry. There are a certain few people who have seen me cry, I mean really cry, not that normal upset cry, but that embarrassing wailing sort of cry, the ones only your very close family are suppose to hear. Their was John, when I ran to him screaming and carrying on about his mothers death on that horrible July day, there was the other boys when Stu died and there was Cher, in the lady's room of Heathrow airport over my own self pity. She was a lot calmer and nicer about it than the others had been.

"Oh come on Peggy, it's not the end of the world." She tried to say, fixing up my hand, though I was too upset to notice and kept moving it.

"Y-yes i-it is. Y-y-you wouldn't know. I-t-t's over now, i-it's all over because I'm so stupid! Don't you see? Doesn't anyone see! I'm a screw up, a jack off, an retarded piece of-" I was going to go on but Cher interrupted me and I found myself not caring. I didn't care what Cher was going to say. It didn't matter, and though I knew I was being distasteful and spoilit and it sort of pained me somewhere deep inside, it felt good to be rude for once. After all what did Cher have to worry about? What did any of them have to worry about? I found myself for the first time feeling very very envious of Cher, and very very sorry for myself.

"You're not stupid, and stop that! Calm down would you." Cher wasn't demanding, but she had said it firmly enough that I stopped and stayed still. For a brief second, my hazel eyes and her brown eyes meant, and I saw she was just as disappointed as I was. It dawned on me that Cher Epstein pitied me, and that, dare I think it, she did kinda care about the fact that I had gotten myself in big trouble. When I had calmed myself a bit she started again.

"Peggy, your not in trouble. Your coming, because if you're not coming, John's not coming, and if John's not coming, Paul's not coming, and if they don't come George and Ringo can't and won't play. It's a system, they told me so. You could've killed that man instead of his camera and dad would still find a way to let you come." Cher seemed to let her words sink in.

"What?" I heard myself weakly murmur. "You mean I was set from the start."

"Listen kid, you might see it, but they like you. Trust me, when we got to France they were all going crazy trying to remember your phone number, ended calling almost everyone else in Liverpool instead, that's how John got the idea to mess with you. In fact George was just telling me that he thinks of you as a kid sister, as a younger sibling since he's usually the youngest and never had someone younger than him like you. He loves you,...they love you.I -" She faded off, Cher always stopped herself from being too sappy, but I'd got the point.

'He loves you, they love you Peg' I could recall many times in my life when those words were told to me, and it'd be thousands more before I'd allow myself to believe them. As much as I would've loved to believe Cher, I knew she was just trying to make me feel better. But I played it like I believed her anyway.

"Thanks Cher, really, thanks for all of that." I told her softly. I was still nervous, but Cher knew how to make a person forget their problems, which would explain why the boys loved her to death. She also wasn't easily fooled. Especially about me, and though I've always considered myself a pretty good lier, Cher knew when I was just saying stuff, just like I thought I did.

"I know you don't believe me now Peg, but it's true. People love you, they do, you might never know it, but your loved." She picked out another shared of glass, and this time I actually noticed it and winced. Before Cher muttered 'sorry' the door swung open. It was Jane Asher, Paul's girlfriend.

"Epstein's decided it'd be best for us all to wait outside, it'd be less of a distraction, he also said Thompson offered to replace the camera, he inherited quiet a bit of money, who knew Thompson's maintaining a fortune." She stated plainly, brushing her ginger hair without much thought. She seemed tired, and a little upset about something.

"Oh he is, my dad was wealthy beyond earthly means-" I found myself saying and stopping. I'd forgotten I was the child of a dead millionaire politician. I smiled a bit, content with the scenario. Cher was right, things weren't crazy bad.

"Thanks Jane. Hey do me a favor and see if there's any bandages in that kit there, Peggy cut her hand." Cher pointed to a small first aid kit and sat me down. Jane opened it and tossed Cher a bandaged.

"Hey-hey hey, I can do it! I'm not ten anymore." I protested when Cher tried to bandaged my hand.

"Oh come on Peggy, you need two hands to do that, and you're right handed anyways, how are you going to wrap something on your right hand?" Jane kneeled down with Cher, and I sighed and gave in and let them wrap the bandages on my arm.

"I can write with my left to you know, they just made me use my right in school." I said for no real reason.

"There you go Peggy, are we all better now?" Cher asked.

"Yeah I think so, but you guys don't have to gush over me, I'm not little." I explained as we all walked out of the restroom.

"Oh but you are." Jane laughed, her heels making that obnoxious clicking noise as they hit the titled floor. I felt bad for her, Paul always liked to have a huge say in what his girl wore, and those heels were almost cruel. Though Paul wasn't as big on controlling his girl like John, and Jane was no Cynthia, if she truly hated wearing them, she'd have said so, even if Paul had given them to her.

"Yep Peggy, you know I'm twenty now that's quiet a bit older than 14, got your birthday present, how'd you know I like the Kinks?" Cher asked.

"Their poster's were all over your room that one time, and your always singin' their songs to yourself, and listening to their music." I shrugged as Jane lead us to where Cynthia and Maureen were. Cynthia was showing Maureen some photos, probably of Julian, and Maureen was gushing over them.

"Gee kid, you sure do pick up on some things." Cher remarked as we all took a seat next to Maureen and Cynthia. They didn't seem angry with me, just reviled that we where all fine.

"Oh Peg, your hand!" Maureen cried, and I instantly rolled down my sweater sleeve so my minor injury was covered.

"It was only a bit of glass, I'm fine." I smiled. Cher was right, these people did care about me.

Once I'd convinced them I was fine, we took to listening to Cynthia tell us cute stories about Julian and life around the house. It was nice, but I felt a ping of guilt the whole time. How could someone who gave up their lives dream of being something for a slacker like John possibly be content with a sometimes violent man, who was never around? How could you go from being so smart and free, to being trapped in a house all day, keeping out of public eye?

I couldn't help but think that that was why she did it. That was why my mother killed herself after I was born. She couldn't bear it, and I knew that if roles were reversed, I'd have done the same thing.

It was hard thinking that my friend John, that goofy, crude, immature boy who stole my letter and constantly made fat jokes about me was not only a husband, but also a father, and so I could see how he kinda sucked at both from my point of view. But I'd have never said so, no none of us would have ever said so, Cynthia was happy, and we weren't going to mess with that. We also didn't ask about the small bruise on the side of her face, because it was obviously from a while ago, and their was no need to bring that up. But it made me kinda upset that John'd do such a thing. It wasn't above him to hit a woman, shoot he had hit me when I was just a girl(not hard, but enough to make you know, you keep out of a raging Lennon's way) but it was still unfortunate. I wondered if the others even noticed.

After what seemed like an eternity of talking, thinking and waiting, the press conference let out, and the boys were escorted out to us. They were followed by a very stressed Eppy, but his thoughts seemed to be away from my latest screw up.
"Gee Margret, did you have to break the camera? You caused a earthquake, we almost had to all break for cover." John was grinning, but this time Paul elbowed him firmly in the side.

"What? She did, what's your problem?"

"Peggy isn't fat, you don't joke about that sort of thing with a young girl like that, next thing you know, their starving themselves, or dead.'Sides, if you want to see fat, look at a picture of me from around that age before I got tall." Paul remarked giving me a wink. I could have kissed him.

We had nearly a half a hour before take off, and I already was restless. The boys all sort of took to their women, well except for George, he just kinda stayed to himself since his parents had left before the press conference. He was messing around with his shirt buttons, and I couldn't tell if he was bored, nervous, or excited, probably all of them.

"Hey George." I found myself saying as I walked up to him. He'd been looking in Cher's direction, and she was messing with John while his wife laughed.
George looked up at me as startled and guilty as if I'd just caught him pleasuring himself.

"Oh, um...hiya there Peggy."

It was odd, we didn't exactly talk very much, and I'd always felt sort of distant from George. I could tell his mind was somewhere else, as it was most of the time he talked to me. He was miles away in his head.

"Hey Peggy, can-can I ask you something?" He surprised me, George Harrison asking me if he could ask me something?! Now that was something.

"Yeah sure." I shrugged. "Ask away."

"Does...does... I don't know, does Cher ever talk about me?" George wondered, almost timid, which was really odd. Every Beatle fan always reckoned George the quiet one, and while he was no John, he wasn't exactly timid, shy or even the coy type really.
"What do you mean talk about you? I haven't heard her say anything bad about you." I told him. It was true, Cher had never really talked about George with me.

"No, I mean just in general, you know." He seemed disappointed, and I felt the need to cheer him up.

"Listen Geo, I know what your getting at, and I think she likes you, I really do. The other lads think so too. Just go with it, I mean your not going to get her mad or anything by making a move." I found myself saying, though I started wishing I hadn't been so straight forward.

George was quiet for a moment, and I thought I had gotten him upset somehow. But then after a long moment, he grinned and told me something I will never forget,

"Thanks Peggy, your a real friend, you know that?"

It doesn't seem like much, but that one comment made my face light up. I couldn't tell if I was blushing, slap happy, or just proud, all I know is that George's small, simple comment meant something to me, and the smile on my face showed it.
George's words never left me, in fact those words carried me through that tour, and many more mistakes to come.

Because it showed that George Harrison really did give a damn about me.

So here is chapter seven, which was a very long wait(I'm sorry) but I got busy and didn't know how to write it exactly. It was a Cher heavy chapter and I wanted to make sure I got it right. I hope you guys enjoyed it, and thanks so much for the support everyone! Remember to keep reviewing, I love to here you guy's thoughts on this. And as usual I want to thank my reviewers for the last chapter, George Is Mine, The Loner, a guest(hi there) and of corse Crash Solar who not only brought a lot of you here, but let me use her awesome OC Cher.
George Is Mine: You're right, I probably do need a Beta Reader, and I might get one, if I can figure out how(it takes a ditz like me forever to get the hang of anything) And it means a lot to me that you like my story so much, and Peggy, since I'm always scared of making her your average Beatles fanfic OC.
The Loner: Thanks for the advice, I'll check it out, and I'll make sure I fix the formatting on this chapter.
Crash Solar: Thanks for your review, and I've never heard anyone count their age in negatives before, that's pretty witty and neat.
I should(fingers crossed) have chapter eight up real soon, and after that it's America folks. So stay tuned and awesome everyone:)!