A/N Twilight series and all recognisable characters are owned by Stephenie Meyer. I just love messing with them.

Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! Please please click the button at the end and let me know how you think I'm doing.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Previously (EPOV)

I knew she felt it too, her gasp audible and overly-dilated eyes widening as she locked with mine. Her mouth was parted, her bow-like lips soft. She looked drunk and sleepy and unkempt, but she was more beautiful than I had ever seen for her in that moment she looked alive.

Tentatively, eyes wide in wonder, she reached out and touched my cheekbone. The energy jumped between us once again, webs of electricity shivering over our skin and we both shuddered with it.

Her voice was soft and musical, "You're beautiful." She traced my face with soft feathery fingers and I shivered at the contact, the warmth. "Who are you?"

My mouth was dry, I didn't know what to say to her. Before I could answer she stumbled forward, her eyes rolling back into her head as she collapsed in a boneless slump into my arms.

Just then, it began to rain.

~ * ~

EPOV

I strode through the nighttime streets of Seattle with my angel cradled in my arms, shielding her as best I could from the pouring rain. Despite the cold and dark, I felt like I was flying, like I was reborn. The rain running down my face cleansed me, baptised me, made me feel free and forgiven.

Bella was smiling in my arms, and each time I glanced down to see the soft curl of her lips and her smooth brow my heart soared even more. The contact between us sent a permanent web of electronic energy across me, buzzing and shivering as I carried her to her home.

Was that was making her smile? Even in sleep, did she feel it too?

Her apartment was within walking distance of the cathedral and the bar, and we arrived there in no time. Deft manoeuvring allowed me to retrieve her keys from her coat pocket and unlock the building door without displacing her from my arms. I said a silent prayer of gratitude that for whatever reason the usual guard in the foyer was absent tonight.

I waited at the elevators, gazing down at my seraphim. Her head was cradled into my collarbone, her damp curls tickling my chin and clinging to her skin. Her hands were curled childlike under my jacket, as if even while unconscious she huddled into my warmth.

The elevator gave a soft ding! and I ducked through the door, pressing the button for her floor, thankful that I knew her address. As the elevator ascended the peculiar high I'd experienced while carrying my lady home began to ebb away and was replaced by concern. I would hand her over to her Amazonian roommate to care for her, but what the fuck was I going to say?

How could I possibly explain that I knew where she lived, not only the building but her floor and apartment number? The blonde would be suspicious. I decided to tell her that I'd found Bella nearby, she'd been able to tell me her address before passing out. Surely the amount of alcohol she'd imbibed would make her loathe to rely on her own memory.

Right? Shit. I'm dead.

I arrived at their apartment door and pressed the door, smoothing my expression into what I desperately hoped was suitably non-stalkerish. I waited a couple of minutes, then rang the bell again, frowning.

No answer.

I braced Bella in my arms, dazed for a moment as the movement of her hair sent a fresh bouquet of her perfumed scent over me, then recovered and fished her keys once again from her pocket. Cautiously, I let myself into the apartment and flicked the light switch on.

I called loudly, making my presence known. The brief few glimpses of the blonde Bella lived with gave me no doubt that she was the type to swing a baseball bat at intruders first and ask questions later. I announced myself again, wondering if she was asleep already. I glanced at the clock and it was still an hour before midnight.

I carefully laid Bella on the coach, scouting through the apartment and calling as I went. I entered the kitchen and saw a sheet of paper stuck to the fridge with a handbag-shaped magnet, covered in elegant yet sharp writing.

B,

Got caught up late at the conference centre at work. Will just crash at the hotel tonight, be back at lunchtime tomorrow.

R.

I was elated that the roommate would not be here, thankful that awkward questions would be avoided. My gratitude vanished the second I rejoined my angel and realised that she was soaked through to the bone from the rain, her skin cold and chill. Her lips were now tinged every so slightly blue. I couldn't just leave her in soaked clothes, she could get hypothermia.

I wanted to scream. The impossible situation I was in, graced with the perfect valid excuse to touch her and undress her and give in to my perverted horrifying nature. What the fuck was I going to do?!

For a moment I seriously contemplated calling Alice, but imagining her reaction and the yelling that would follow was too daunting. She would tell Jasper, who would tell Emmett, who would beat the shit out of me. And then Alice would throw things at my head.

I decided to just take off her outer clothes and just...just go from there.

I stood there, compulsively running my hands through my wet hair like a madman. God, if she awoke now she would be terrified beyond belief. Muttering to myself, I knelt next to her and prayed that she wouldn't awaken while I was doing this, while also praying that she would so the shameful choice could be taken from me.

Reverently, I unfastened the belt of her black peacoat and carefully eased her arms from it, lifting her from the coach to remove it from her petite frame. She didn't stir at all. Underneath she wore a dark blue V-neck sweater, the colour perfectly complementing the creaminess of her skin. The monster within me crept trembling fingers to trace her collarbones, but the cold temperature of her skin returned my senses to me in a thunderclap.

Get a fucking grip! You're doing this so she doesn't get hypothermia, not so you can grope her while she's unconscious.

Right. Focus.

The sweater was soaked through and sodden, cold as ice. I lifted it slightly and nearly fell over with joy when I realised she wore a thin tank top underneath that would preserve her modesty and perhaps my sanity. More easily now I carefully raised the garment over her head and pulled her arms through. The tank top was slightly damp but dry enough to leave on.

She was beginning to shiver now. I went in search of blankets, opening a few random cupboards in the hallway until I found what I was looking for. I returned to her side and tenderly cocooned her in the thick woolen blanket, praying it would warm her soon and return some colour to her cheeks.

I unzipped her black ankle boots and slipped them off her feet, peeling off her rain-soaked socks to reveal delicate toes painted a soft coral colour. Then I unfastened the dark grey slacks she was wearing, feeling like a complete pervert as I carefully lifted her hips so I could take her trousers off, pulling them down her legs.

Then when I glimpsed her panties I was nearly undone. I shot to my feet, turning my back and taking deep breathes in an effort to calm myself and the monster within. Jesus, Cullen, do not get excited right now, no matter how lacy and blue her underwear might be... Calm the fuck down.

Then I wondered if the bra matched, and the blood rushed back down to my groin.

God, there is a special place in hell reserved for monsters like me. I was repulsed by myself. How was I any better than some sick peeping tom? I wasn't any better. I was much, much worse.

Carefully averting her eyes to the neutrality of her blanket covered shoulder, I lifted her and rearranged the blanket so that it covered her entire body from neck to toes. I then headed down the hall towards the bedrooms, guessing immediately that the one on the right was hers. It was decorated in soft blues and grey, clean lines and the surfaces uncluttered. By contrast the other room was more vibrant and cluttered, the walls magenta and the vanity case covered in a multitude of beauty products and make-up.

As I laid her down into the bed, tucking the sheets around her already blanket-wrapped form, she shivered and muttered something. I froze, praying she would not awake and see me wide-eyed and frazzled inches above her prone half-stripped form. But her eyes remained closed and I sighed in relief.

Then she whispered something about bagels, the rest of the words incoherent mumblings. Did she just...does she talk in her sleep?

Oh, fuck. My curiosity was uncontrollable, overpowering my self-disgust. The lure of those unprotected, unconsciously spoken words was impossibly tempting.

I stood by her bed, motionless, waiting, praying, for her to speak. She did, but much of it was meaningless or incoherent drivel. My conscience had re-emerged and nearly persuaded me to leave my shameful vigil when I heard it.

Her voice was soft, breathy, so melodic I could drown in it. "So beautiful...green eyes..." Then, even softer, "Who...are you?"

I froze, my heart barely beating. I was so sure she was speaking of me, that was the exact question she'd posed before fainting into my arms. She was dreaming of me!

I watched her for a few moments more, a smile on a my face. As light as a feather I ghosted my fingertips over her forehead, my heart soaring when the lines in the brow smoothed out and her lips curled once again in a sleepy smile. She whispered, "green eyes..." and I thought my chest would burst.

I darted back into the living room, gathering her sodden clothes in a whirlwind and setting them out to dry on radiators in her room and the hall. I draped her red scarf over a chair in her room. Then I fished a packet of aspirin from their medicine cabinet, placing a couple on her bedside table with a glass of water.

I deliberated over whether I should leave a note, but when inspiration failed me on what to say, on how to possibly explain, I decided against it. I watched for a little more, relishing each soft breath and dart of her closed eyes as she dreamt.

Then I slipped from her apartment like a shadow, locking the door behind me and disappearing once more into the night, the scent of my angel lingering around me.

~ * ~

BPOV

I woke slowly, a vague memory of startling emerald eyes and rain enveloping me as I rose gradually to consciousness. I felt oddly buoyant, warm and safe in a cocoon of soft wool.

I blinked my eyes open, confused. The pain and sick dizziness of my headache hit me then, my eyes and mouth feeling dry and abused. I groaned softly, sitting up and blinking around the room before I checked the clock: just after seven a.m.

I tried to remember what had happened last night. I remembered the phone call, the dank mustiness of the bar and the Cuervo. Ugh, god, the Cuervo. No wonder I felt like shit.

How the hell did I get home? I glanced down at myself, puzzled as to why I was wrapped in a blanket still wearing my tank top and panties. I struggled out of my secure cocoon and stumbled across the room, touching my black trousers carefully laid on the radiator.

Still damp. I must have got soaked through in the rain last night and Rose helped me out of them. I owed her one big time - doubtless I would have just left them in a sodden mess on the carpet.

Then I spied the aspirin and water on my night stand and my gratitude to Rosalie swelled even more. What would I do without that girl?

I gulped down the water greedily, swallowed the aspirin and then crawled back into bed, not yet ready to face the world. As sleep swallowed me down once again, there was a smile on my lips as I made a mental note to thank Rose for taking care of me.

~ * ~

I threw open the front door with a grin and then winced as the door crashed into the wall with a loud bang, my over-exuberance at escaping the rain leaving a slight dent in the drywall. Oops.

"Honey, I'm home!" I called to the apartment. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was here. I'd always been able to sense his proximity, like the warmth of the sun on my skin or the comforting and familiar scent of home.

That made me smile. Home. Our home.

I shook the rain from my hair and hung my coat onto the hat stand to dry, dropping my bag and umbrella in the entrance way to deal with later.

"Jake?"

"In here, Bells!" His loud booming voice echoed through the apartment, and I found myself grinning again. That lovesick, sappy smile that never failed to make Rosalie roll her eyes.

I dashed across the hall to the living room, nearly slipping on her carpet but catching myself at the door frame. The light was off but the soft glimmer of candlelight flickered along the walls, illuminating the picnic blanket and plates of food on the floor. I saw brie, grapes and baguettes, as well as a plate of strawberries. I started laughing when I saw the marshmallows, Graham crackers and cubes of chocolate: he was making s'mores.

"S'mores, Jake? With brie?" I sniggered to myself as he approached me, dropping a kiss on my lips as he twirled my wet hair around his finger, his other hand pushing the stem of a wine glass into mine.

"Yes, Bella. S'mores." He grinned, affecting a mock English accent, "They complement the the dusky tones and blackberry goodness of the '86 Pinot Noir perfectly."

I laughed, the humour and love dancing in his eyes setting my skin aflame. His face softened and he stroked the line of my cheekbone, sending a shiver through me. He sat on the floor, pulling me down with him to lean back against his chest in the circle of his arms. I giggled as he nearly spilled the wine glass in my hand.

"So what do you want first, Bells?" He picked up a grape and a salty, creamy sube of brie and popped them both in my mouth, making me laugh again.

I chewed and swallow, then sipped the wine. "Mmm," I groaned at the taste, perfect. I arched a brow at my husband. "So what's the occasion, Jake?"

"Not that we ever need an occasion for a living room picnic, but I'm shocked you forgot our anniversary."

I frowned up at him, my brow furrowed. "It's not our anniversary, Jake."

"Yes it is."

"No, it's not. We got married in November, you moron."

He gasped in mock shock, nuzzling into my shoulder. "I didn't say it was our one-year anniversary."

"You do realise the root of 'anniversary' is annual, i.e. once a year?" I asked, amused.

"Details, details. It is in fact our three-month-and-nine-days' anniversary. A pivotal turning point in any young couple's life. Frankly, I'm amazed you overlooked it."

I burst out laughing, turning my head to capture his lips with mine. "You're such an ass," I whispered, then we kissed, soft and gentle in the candlelight. He tasted like wine and chocolate.

When he ended the kiss with a soft touch of his lips to my nose a few moments later, I looked around at the multitude of candles. Jake reached around me to start assembling the s'mores.

"What's with the candles anyway?"

He tucked my hair behind my ears. "A few reasons, I guess," he replied thoughtfully. "One being that the power's out again, but we also need them to roast the s'mores -" I snorted at that, predicting that the plan would end up with scorched fingers and melted chocolate in the carpet "- but that's not the main reason."

"Oh?"

"Well, this place is a little too flammable so I didn't want to start a campfire. The candles are the next best thing." He held me tight, nuzzling my shoulder, his warm breath on my neck. His voice was softer now and he traced the band of my wedding ring as he spoke. "When I remember falling in love with you, it's always with the firelight flickering on your face while we sat at First Beach. The candles always remind me of that."

My heart swelled. I was suddenly overcome with the memory of sitting on the brightly coloured stones of the beach, hearing the the waves break on the shore, the heat of the fire and my Jacob keeping the chill weather of La Push at bay.

I snuggled into his arms as if I'd bury myself there, whispering, "I love you, Jake."

RING RING. RING RING. RING RING.

The ringing of the phone tore me from the dream, and I smiled in a brief moment of sleepy happiness before reality crashed over me. Then I had to look down at myself, sure my body would be bleeding and broken. I lay there for a moment, frozen and numb.

I didn't make a move to answer the phone, just lay there and listened to its shrill voice until I heard Rosalie answer. I climbed out of bed, hearing her grumbling from the kitchen, and I headed for the shower.

Rose kept candles in a shelf on her side of the bathroom shelves. Before I turned on the shower I picked them up and shoved them into the back of the cabinet, slamming the door shut.

~ * ~

Rosalie glanced up at me when I finally emerged from my bedroom in a black t-shirt and blue yoga pants, idly drying my hair with a towel. I bee-lined straight for the coffee machine.

"Nice of you to finally join the land of the living, Bella."

I grunted in return. The extra sleep and painkillers had helped, but my skull still felt like small creatures had crawled in there to die. Fucking Cuervo.

"What's up with you, Bella? You've slept nearly the whole day away, you were still in bed when I got in from work. Are you sick?"

I frowned at her, puzzled. Was she joking? She must have known I'd be hungover, or else why would she have left me the aspirin. I couldn't even remember getting home last night. My head hurts too much for passive aggressive guessing-games to teach Bella the evils of not drowning the pain in alcohol. Urgh.

"Ha ha, very funny Rose," I grumbled. "Yes, I got drunk and don't worry, I know it's a shitty way to deal with my problems. Please save the speech - the hangover is more than enough punishment."

Rosalie was looking a little alarmed now as she set her her coffee mug down on the kitchen table. "Bella, what the hell are you talking about? You got drunk? Why?"

I frowned. "I got a phone call, sent me a little crazy. Went to a bar downtown." Rose started to interrupt, but I quickly held up my hand. "Don't want to talk about it while I'm this hungover, so can we please raincheck it until tomorrow?"

"Sure, Bella. But we will be talking about it tomorrow. Christ you look seriously rough though, how much did you have to drink?"

I shrugged. "I feel like death, don't even remember leaving the bar," I sheepishly admitted, realising just now how stupid and reckless my behaviour was. "But thanks for helping me when I got in, and for the aspirin and the water."

Rose's eyebrows shot up into her scalp at that one. "Hold the fuck up, Bella. What are you talking about, helping you? I wasn't even here last night, I was stuck at the hotel until late this morning."

I glared at her. "That's not funny, Rose." Was she trying to teach me a lesson about drinking to the point of black-out? Hypocritical, much.

"I'm not trying to be fucking funny, Bella," she sounded angry now, and a little scared. "Someone left you pills and water, that means someone must have been here with you last night. Do you remember who it was? Is there a note?"

Is she being serious? I shook my head wordlessly, leaning back against the counter-top. "Rose, I'm going to ask you this one last time and I swear to god if you don't tell me the truth then I'm moving out and never speaking to you again. Were you here last night, or not? Did you help me?"

Rose just shook her head, storm-grey eyes unusually serious and a little freaked. "I swear, Bella, I swear I wasn't even here."

I exhaled softly. "Then, well...shit."

Rose whispered, "What do you mean, you thought I 'helped' you?"

My face burned scarlet at the realisation that a total stranger had not only been in my apartment and left me aspirin in my drunken glory, but had also half-stripped me and wrapped me in blankets.

Then thoughtfully put my clothes to dry on the radiator.

Rose was going to freak.

I frowned then as the thought triggered a more important question. Why wasn't I freaking out? A stranger saw me half-naked, did god knows what to me while I was unconscious. Was in my apartment, my private space. Shouldn't I be concerned about this?

The logical answer was a clear yes, but for some reason I felt...safe. An odd but undeniable sense of security and protection that I now recognised as being present from the moment I woke earlier this morning. A sense of safety that had brought me a comforting dream, a happy memory of Jake instead of the usual nightmare.

Am I going crazy?

"Bella! Stop zoning out and fucking talk to me! You're scaring me now."

I ran my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to think of a way to phrase this that wasn't going to have Rose screaming and dragging me to the police station. Or the loony bin. "Well, I just assumed it was you because the pills and water were on my bedside table in my room. And...because whoever it was took off my clothes and wrapped me in a blanket -"

"WHAT THE FUCK!! Some pervert stripped you naked?! Jesus, Bella, we need to take you to the hospital right the fuck now or -"

"Calm down!" I yelled back. "I don't think it's like that; besides, I was still in my tank top and underwear. It was raining last night, right? Well whoever it was put my clothes out to dry on the radiator and they're still damp this morning. I probably have them to thank for not getting hypothermia or sleeping on the streets."

Rose was a little mollified, but she was still on her feet and fuming. "I don't understand how you can be so calm about this, Bella. If he or she was so innocent then why didn't they leave a note? And how the hell did they knew where you live? There's something seriously fucked-up about this and I can't believe you're not freaking out right now."

I just shrugged. I had no answer to that, for as illogical as it was it was also true.

"How do you even know what was in the pills, Bella? It could be some sort of brainwashing drug - that would at least explain why you're acting like a pod person right now."

I snorted at that, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, Rose, because brainwashing drugs are available over-the-counter these days. Jeez, get a grip."

"Get a grip? Get a fucking grip?! I think you're the one who needs to get a grip, Bella! I think you need to go to the hospital and get...checked out."

I slammed the coffee mug down on the table, my temper finally snapping. "No, I told you I'm FINE! Nothing happened last night, except I seemingly found the one good Samaritan out there and you're determined to paint him as some creeping serial rapist."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why are so sure it's a he?"

A flash of startling green-eyes and a cut-glass masculine jaw shot across my vision, firm muscles cradling me from the rain, but instead I said, "Just the generic pronoun, Rose. Don't read too much into it."

"There tell me this. If you were so out of it, how did he even know where you live?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I mumbled the address half-unconscious, or maybe he just checked my driving licence."

No need to mention that my driving licence is being replaced by the DMV and wasn't even in my purse that night... How the hell did he know where I live?

Rose was still glaring at me with her vulture laser-gaze, but for once I wasn't cracking. Eventually she huffed and leaned back on the counter next to me, folding her arms. "Fine, Swan, I'll drop it. But I swear you do anymore drinking-party-for-one in some seedy bar, I'm going to kick your ass. Got it?"

"Got it, Hale," I murmured back at her, nudging her shoulder with mine and earning a brief smile. "Now get me some food before my stomach lining tries to eat itself, 'kay?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes and heading for the refrigerator. "Okay."

~ * ~

Later that night after ham omelettes dripping with Swiss cheese, I picked up the same blanket I'd been wrapped in last night and went out into the rooftop garden. It had been the apartment's main selling point for Rose and I, high enough above the city streets to give us the illusion of peace and privacy. We'd filled the space with leafy green plants and flowering clematis, and sweet-smelling honeysuckle climbing the wall around the door like a fairy-bower.

In the far corner was a rough-hewn wooden planter decorated with stylised wolf carvings. It was filled with a medium-high woody shrub with slender tubular white flowers which unfolded its delicate star-shaped petals only at night: Cestrum nocturnum, or night-blooming jasmine. God only knows how it managed to survive in Seattle, but somehow it did.

I lay down on the blanket, folding my hands over my stomach and gazing up at the night sky, the air thick with floral perfume. A few stars were discernible, but the city's light pollution made most of them invisible. I closed my eyes, enjoying the memory of star-gazing on First Beach beneath a spangled shining sky.

My musings were broken by a string of shrieked curses from Rosalie within the apartment. Curious, I reopened my eyes to see...nothing. I smiled to myself at the power blackout and looked back up the heavens.

I could hear Rosalie swearing and stumbling inside as she searched for matches and candles, then a few minutes later she emerged from the apartment to join me on the blanket with a huff. A lit candle was cupped between her hands, protecting the fragile flame from the breeze.

In the rare moment, the nighttime sky was revealed as a deep, jewelled canvas of stars, glittering from horizon to horizon. Wordlessly, we both stared up at the natural wonder, both considering how the magic lost to city-dwellers could be recaptured in the moment when technology falters.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds...

Rosalie sighed in exasperation as the candle blew out in the wind, but made no effort to relight it and instead lay down next to me. I smiled as I felt her little finger curl around mine, a rare gesture of comfort which would be the equivalent of a hug from anyone else. I don't know what I would do without her.

"Bella?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"Will you tell me why you were drinking yourself into a coma last night? You said you got a phone call..."

Her words were tentative, but honestly there was no need. In this moment of tranquility, surrounded by heady floral scent, I felt no pain talking about this to her. "A cop called me, I think he said his name was Detective Parker." I smiled then. "I think he's newly promoted, sounded a little squeaky to me."

I could see Rose half-smile at that out of the corner of my eye, but she didn't interrupt. I was grateful.

"He, um, he addressed me as Mrs. Black, which was a little more painful than a kick in the stomach." Rose squeezed my finger in sympathy. "But sometimes, it seems more painful being called 'Ms. Swan'. It makes me feel like I imagined the whole thing, that I was never really married..."

I trailed off, unconsciously rubbing the now-naked skin on my left ring finger. "They figured out who mugged us that night, traced the gun or something, I'm not sure." I felt a single tear well in my eye, trickle down its path over my cheekbone; miraculously, my voice remained steady. "He'd dead. The cop used the term 'deceased', I'm not sure why that seems different. Less real, maybe? I don't know."

I was silent for a moment, then Rose whispered, "How?"

A fought the urge to laugh semi-hysterically at that. "A car accident. A fucking car accident, can you believe it? It was that night too - he was so desperate to spent his measly thirty bucks on getting high that he ran straight into oncoming traffic. Killed my husband, killed our child before she'd even had a chance to breathe, then he died a week later in the hospital. Never woke up. Never suffered. Just...slipped away."

Like our Lucy slipped away...

"Oh, Bella."

And that was it, that was all it took. Her rich, honey voice thick with sympathy and shared pain tripped me over the edge and I felt the dam within me tear and shatter irrevocably, the river of pain and grief bursting like a tidal wave and pulling me under. The tears exploded from me, great hulking sobs of loss that shook my whole frame as I clung to Rose and wailed into the night.

I'm not sure how long passed as I clung to her and wept, finally letting the memories of Jake and our shared plans for our child run free. I remembered how that morning we'd received our first sonogram picture, how Jake had bribed the ultrasound technician to let our appointment run on because the little slip of life within me was too shy to turn and reveal her gender. And when she did, when I knew she was going to be a girl... How we were going to name her Lucy, after that stupid Beatles song that Jake was obsessed with.

I cried until there were no more tears within me, destroying Rose's shirt with saltwater and grief. She rubbed soothing circles on my back, running her fingers over my scalp and holding me tightly, not saying a word until I calmed and the sobs were reduced to hiccoughs, and then...nothing.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds...

Nothing was said for long minutes, then, softly, "It will get better you know."

Will it? "I know."

Rosalie scoffed, but gripped her hand fully around mine and squeezed. "Liar," she murmured, kissing my forehead and pulling me tight to her.

We lay together in the garden, transfixed with the sea of diamonds above us until power returned and the stars disappeared.

~ * ~

A/N Thank you again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, really appreciate it. Also hoping that those of you who're following the story but haven't commented yet might chime in - this was a difficult chapter to write and I would love to hear what you think.

The song referenced is Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles, which if you haven't already heard listen to on YouTube, it's a classic.