YES IT IS

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

Chapter Three

They rolled right on through into "Baby's In Black" and Maggie grinned as she watched John try his hardest to take Paul out of his mood. Paul only stared straight ahead, though, while singing, ignoring the faces John was making towards him and concentrating on his music. John just shrugged after a while, recognizing that this wasn't going to be an easy fix. It was just another one of Paul's little sullen pouts that he went on every once in a while. John considered it a type of PMS. Once a month Paul would get himself worked up and the rest of them would just have to deal with his bitchy attitude. Eventually it would pass.

The door opened to their side as they ended the song, revealing a very confused drummer leaning against the doorjamb, staring, more than a little surprised at the rest of the group. "First you go on tour without me when I had my tonsils pulled, and then I leave to use the loo and you grab the first mad fan in the hall to keep a beat." He looked at each one of them in turn. "Very funny, mates." Maggie bit her already worried lower lip, clearly seeing that the drummer was not amused.

"Ringo's funny about his drums, you know," George commented from the side, placing his guitar back on the stand.

"I know," Maggie said. Rising from her seat, she smiled warmly at Ringo and handed him back his sticks promptly. Ringo looked down at them for a moment before turning back to the girl, softening a little. "They loom large in his legend." Maggie smiled as Ringo laughed a bit at the bad joke. He quickly gave her a once over eventually deciding she was okay; anyone who could play drums couldn't be all bad right?

Looking around the room, Ringo noticed the smiles on each of his friends' faces as they went about putting their instruments up. Smiles on all except Paul. He just sat in the corner, fiddling with his bass as a scowl grew across his face. Ringo frowned and turned to John.

"What's his problem? He's acting like we broke his favorite toy."

John just shook his head, waving Ringo off before going over to Maggie's side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Ringo, my friend, I would like you to meet Maggie."

Ringo smiled. "Nice to meet you, Maggie."

"She's from the future," John said is if he were mentioning it looked like rain outside.

Ringo paused at that, his hand outstretched in greeting but freezing as he looked up at John. John smiled at him, offering nothing more. Quickly Ringo turned to George, trying to figure out if John was having him on or not. When George met his eyes, he shrugged in agreement though, leaving Ringo in an even deeper state of confusion.

"Okay," Ringo said slowly. "I've obviously missed something."

"She popped right out of the bloody air, mate!" John exclaimed excitedly, obviously not finding the entire situation odd anymore. "She even stumped dear little Macca over there by playing one of his songs that's been swimming around in that pretty head of his. It set him into a bloody pout again but it wiped that self-satisfied smirk off his face, so it was worth it." John grinned, noticing how Paul didn't even acknowledge his words. "And, to make things even better, she's in a rock band."

Ringo looked at them skeptically, obviously not as quick to jump on the bandwagon as John and George had been. Although, he also wasn't as quick to deny it as Paul seemed to be trying to do.

"Can you prove it to me?" Ringo asked, looking at Maggie curiously.

Maggie bit the corner of her mouth, smiling at him apologetically. "I can't really prove it by singing any of your songs but if it's any consolation, one of the songs you wrote was my favorite when I was a little girl." Ringo looked a little taken aback by that and Maggie could only nod encouragingly. "It's true. So if you ever go to Greece and get inspired by octopuses, just go with it."

John laughed at that, clapping Ringo on the shoulders. "Now we know you're having us on, luv. Ringo write a song?" He gave his friend a teasing shove, but Ringo only looked at Maggie intently, pondering what she had just said. Tilting his head to the side, puzzled by the cryptic comment, he shook his head, accepting the words of advice good-naturedly.

A sound rang from the corner of the room as Paul stood up, pushing his bass roughly onto his stand and mumbling something about going to go find what was keeping George M. and Geoff. They needed to get recording again. Before anyone had the chance to respond, he was out the door.

Not fazed, John picked up Paul's bass and slung it over his shoulder as he handed Maggie his black Rickenbacker. "Let's play something. Knowing Paul he's probably going to be gone for a while. He needs to get a full sulk in." The rest nodded, picking up their separate instruments and readying themselves to play. "Maggie, you pick." John encouraged.

Maggie held his guitar gingerly, not quite believing that John Lennon's black and white Rickenbacker was in her arms. Then it sunk it that John was wearing Paul's famous Hofner violin bass. "But you're not left handed!" she blurted.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked, and then realizing she was staring at Paul's bass slung over his shoulders he explained. "Oh, this. Well, I can pluck out a few basic bass lines with my left hand. It's not great, but fine for a bit of jamming. Come on now, pick something."

Maggie paused for a moment. This can't be happening! It's too good to be true! she thought. Shaking her head at the wonder of it all, the perfect song popped into her head and she launched into the opening riff of "One after 909". The other three followed her lead with ease, laughing as they rolled their way through it, with Maggie taking over Paul's harmony line. As the song ended, George picked up the slack, shooting into "Roll over Beethoven" and the rest followed naturally. Music wove in and out of the room as they continued to play and sing, laughing as they improvised here and there, harmonizing with one another and giggling when one of them would hit a wrong note. It was all in good fun.

They didn't notice that Mal had long since returned with their sandwiches and was now staring in their direction with bewilderment. They didn't even notice when the door opened again ushering Paul, George Martin and company back into the room. George M. stopped for a moment, staring at the scene with shock at what he saw. Paul just looked increasingly annoyed.

Tapping his foot, Paul crossed his arms, waiting for them to wrap up the last of their songs before shooting a pointed look at John. "Right lads, are we going to make a record today or not?" He smiled thinly, holding his hands out to John, clearly showing that he wanted his bass back.

As they were jolted out of the warm haze of music they had been playing in, they all shot reluctant looks at Paul, but finally nodding their heads in agreement. Maggie knew she couldn't stand in the way of their recording, nor did she want to, so without a fight, she surrendered the guitar back to John. The moment it was out of her hand though, she didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't really leave the studio, not having anywhere to go once she got outside those doors, but she also knew that they needed to get back to work. Swallowing a little, she began to look towards the door, wondering just what she should do.

"Would you like to come up to the booth and have a listen?" Maggie's attention snapped towards the door as she looked at George Martin, surprised at his offer.

"That would be great," she said with a relieved smile, glancing at John to make sure it was okay. He smiled at her, giving her all the approval she needed. "Thank you." Before she left the studio, John grabbed a few sandwiches, handing one to her before hurriedly stuffing his mouth with his own. He winked as he let George M. lead her away, up into the sound booth so she could watch as they got ready to record.

The sounds of chords being strummed and lyrics being discussed floated into the control booth as The Beatles got down to business. John kept tossing small glances up towards Maggie, George and Ringo even catching her eye at times and grinning, while Paul pointedly ignored her.

The hours ticked by before they finally broke for dinner. Maggie came down from the booth, going straight for John, noticing out of the corner of her eye the look Paul shot at her before going back to his bass as if everything was business as usual in EMI.

"So, Future Girl," John smiled broadly, propping his guitar up against the stand. "Tell us more." Maggie smiled back, watching as they all turned to her expectantly. Well, all except Paul. As she stood and looked at the four men before her, Maggie swallowed, her grin slowly fading. If this was really happening, and she wasn't altogether convinced yet that it was, then she needed to do something. She had been wasting time joking about their future songs when she had a real chance to change things, to prevent the tragedies to come from happening.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as George took something out of his pocket. Turning to him, she felt her stomach flip flop and her head swim as he slowly lit up a cigarette, touching the nicotine filled paper to his lips.

"I think she's going to throw up," George commented, watching the girl turn pale as he took a drag on his cigarette.

"Maggie, luv," John stepped forward a little hesitantly, wondering if they were about to have a repeat performance of the roof. "What is it?"

Maggie's eyes narrowed in on that burning ember, watching the ash tick down to the ground, falling through the thin air and ceasing to exist about half way down. She could feel her heart thump quickly in her chest and she suddenly had the insane urge to go over to George and rip the cigarette from his hand.

"Maggie," John said again, gaining her attention this time. She looked at him for a moment before turning back to George and shaking her head.

"Take my advice." She looked at George. "You may want to stop smoking."

With the ciggy half way to his mouth, George froze. He looked at her suspiciously, feeling a sort of chill run up and down his spine at her words. "Why?"

"Just trust me. It'll save your life."

George blinked, feeling her words had been deliberately picked. Without another thought, he stubbed out the cigarette, staring at the ash in the tray with a hint of fear.

The tension in the room was palpable, as all four Beatles suddenly turned somber. Each looked at George in growing trepidation; their eyes slowly caught on the burnt nub of the cigarette and suddenly the fun that had surrounded them these past few hours dissipated right along with the fallen embers. Swallowing nervously at the silence, George fumbled around for another cigarette and lit it up before he realized what he had done. If possible, the tension heightened and as he looked up, he noticed each of his friends looking at him hesitantly. Quickly glancing back down to the burning paper between his fingers in horror, he quickly stubbed it out.

"Here," he said, handing the pack over to Maggie and smiling sheepishly. "I think you'd better keep these." It was enough to crack through tension gripping the room and everyone was able to laugh a bit, but still remained wary of what Maggie had just implied.

Now that it was out there, Maggie felt a sense of bravery overcome her. Turning to Ringo, she took a deep breath. "And you, you need to lay off the drinking." Ringo frowned, glancing at his band mates a little nervously. He didn't drink any more than the rest of them. "It'll save you years of pain and it'll save your family a lot of grief," Maggie said pointedly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie spotted Paul. He had been sitting there, pretending not to listen ever since George had put out his second cigarette and was now fiddling with his bass like it was his sole purpose in life. Maggie felt herself sigh a little at this, hoping that he would simply heed the words of this stranger who he obviously didn't trust one bit. "And Paul?" she started. Paul perked up a little, stopping his relentless tuning at the very least, and choosing to cock his head in her general direction and grunt his acknowledgment that he heard her. "Make sure your future wife gets frequent breast cancer screenings. Convince her to get one as soon as you know she's the one and keep having her get them."

Paul frowned, ice rushing through his blood. That's how his mother had died. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked fearfully.

Maggie just stared at him, not knowing how much she should tell him. The brief moment of fear passed though for Paul as he snorted a little to himself at the fact that he had just believed the crazy ramblings of a girl who thought she had the right to simply walk into this studio and take over. Turning back to his bass, Paul went back to his active non-listening.

Maggie sighed a little as she saw him try to tune her out once more. There wasn't really much more she could do. She had to just trust that when the time came, he'd recall her words.

When Maggie turned away from him, she caught sight of John, and she couldn't help but feel a slight jolt of panic. This was going to be the hard part.

Looking to John, Maggie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. The look on his face was anything but helpful though as he stared at her; written on his face was fear at what he sensed was about to roll off her lips. There was a reason why she looked more afraid for him then she had the others, and their tragedies had been pretty bad. Cancer, death, and alcoholism? What was in store for him?

"On December 8, 1980, you and your wife are going to go into the studio to record," she said, the difficult words starting to come to her.

"What? Me and Cyn record? Music?" John's confusion was evident.

Maggie didn't bother to answer, and just pressed on, knowing that if she stopped now, she'd never garner the courage to tell him. "There's going to be a man outside of the building you live in and he's going to ask you to sign his copy of your latest album. Sign it for him, and get a good look at him, so you can identify him later. After you do, go straight to the police and tell them that someone with a gun threatened you outside of your home. Get the police to pick him up."

John looked at her with wide eyes, staring at her and searching her form for any sign that this may be a lie. George and Ringo looked on in shock, and Paul stood up, no longer feigning ignoring her words, and went protectively to John's side.

"What happens?" Paul asked her. "Why are you telling him this?"

"Because if I don't, he's going to die." She turned back to John, barely able to get the next sentence out, but feeling she had no choice. "If you don't get the police to arrest him, when you come home and get out of your car and walk to your apartment door, he's going to shoot you in the back. You'll bleed to death on the way to the hospital." Maggie hung her head, tears stinging her eyes. She'd always mourned John's death even though she'd been too young to remember it. But now it was worse. However improbably, she'd actually met him and found that they had a sort of connection, and now she'd have to mourn him for real. Unless she could save him.

The silence reigned over the room in a deafening pandemonium, seeping into their hearts and gripping all of them with fear. Audible swallows sounded, shifting of eyes, and no matter how crazy they thought the situation was, no matter how unbelievable it seemed for a girl from the future to suddenly appear and tell them all of sorrows to come, they still couldn't shake the cold chills that ran up and down their spines. They felt the truth of her words.

"Please," Maggie begged to John alone, allowing her vulnerability to show, hoping that he would remember her words years from now. "If anything, wear a bullet proof vest. If you don't believe me, just take that one precaution that day. What can it hurt?"

John swallowed, cold sweat breaking out on his brow as sounds of an unheard gunshot rang through his ears. Clearing his throat, John tried to smile, fully aware of the looks of horror that played across his friends' lips. "Well, at least now when they ask us how we think we're going to die I can always say that I'll be popped off by a madman." He tried to joke, tried to make light of a situation that was years off but weighing heavily on all of their shoulders by now. At his words Paul moved away and both Ringo and George looked down, all of them failing to see any humor. Maggie was the only one who kept eye contact, trying to reveal with her eyes that he needed to listen.

"Hey," he said softly, looking around the room. "It's not like it's going to happen tomorrow. She said 1980, not 1964. I still have a good fifteen years left."

"John…" Paul started. John quickly cut him off though, ending the conversation.

"All this serious talk has made me hungry. You boys fancy getting a bite?" They wanted to press forward, to learn more, but there was something in the tone of John's voice that told them that this was the end of the conversation and they knew from experience that they were better off just letting the situation drop.

Dinner from the canteen was delivered to them by Mal, and the conversation stayed safely on the topics of sex and music; topics that Maggie found herself laughing about along with the boys. As the talk turned to what was going on later that night, Maggie listened in curiously as they chatted about a party, one that they had to attend for business reasons, although Maggie could tell by the looks on their faces, there would be more than just business on their agenda tonight.

"You should come," John said to Maggie, taking a quick swig of his coke. Paul frowned at the invitation, sitting back a little in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't bother the girl, John. I'm sure she has other things she needs to be doing at the moment."

"And if she does I'm sure she'll be the one to tell us so," John said through a sickening smile at Paul. Turning back to Maggie, his grin became more inviting as he leaned forward a bit. "What do you say, Maggie? Want come with us tonight?"

With a quick glance at Paul, Maggie knew that the Beatle was less than thrilled with the idea. "I uh-" she started, turning her gaze away from Paul's challenging look. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense!" Ringo encouraged, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Believe me, you'd not be intruding."

"Yeah," George agreed, "It's just a party."

Maggie turned her gaze back towards Paul, looking at him a bit fearfully, knowing that he was rapidly starting to think of her as a "Yoko." Quickly she did away with that line of thinking though, knowing that that path only lead to a wildly beating heart and images she couldn't afford to indulge in at the moment. Closing her eyes, Maggie shook her head, trying to rid the images from her mind. While she would give almost anything to be in the position that Yoko Ono had occupied in another lifetime, she knew at the same time that she was quite possibly ruining a friendship that still had a good few years left in it.

As she turned to look at Paul she locked eyes with the man who was calm on the outside but showed everything he wanted her to see on the inside. He sat back in his seat, arms still crossed in front of his chest in a defensive manner, looking at her as if to say, "I dare you." He was, after all, here first and when it came down to a girl versus his band, he would fight for his band. There was no way in hell he was going to let some American bird come along and mess things up between them all. This was his band, not hers and as far as he was concerned, John was his too.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she said, ducking her head and breaking eye contact with the man in front of her. She would not be remembered for breaking up The Beatles. Besides, she only wanted to go to see more of John, and there was still that small detail that he was married.

John watched the exchange, watched as Paul put on his typical McCartney intimidation act, the one he learned back home in Liverpool and the one he perfected in Hamburg. With a roll of his eyes, John shook his head, smiling sweetly at Maggie. "Like the boys said, that's nonsense, luv. We all want you to come. Even Paulie here wants your company for the night." Paul turned sharply to John at that, a protest clearly shooting from his eyes, but John ignored it, choosing to instead turn to Paul sweetly, and jabbing him under the table with his foot. "Don't you, Macca?"

They locked eyes, trading words silently, fighting it out mentally without even twitching a finger. A thin smile appeared on Paul's lips sooner then she expected, as he turned back to Maggie. And Paul, always the politician, always the PR man, had perfected that smile to a T. Maggie knew that back in the 60's, he could get away with murder if only he flashed that smile. The one that screamed he was innocent while he was nearly boiling inside. She had the advantage though. The hours spent in the chat rooms back home dissecting this bands' every move was not for nothing and she knew that the smile she received now was false and forced and hid that cool acid barbed tongue like no other.

"Sure," Paul said with a smile, pushing away from the table. "Bring her along. After all, what's another bird, anyway?" Nodding his head politely to her, he left the studio.

The rest of the group was helpless as they heard the door slam shut, footsteps distancing themselves down the empty hall. John narrowed his eyes at the doorway, wondering not for the first time today, what exactly had gotten into his friend.

"Er," he started, turning back to Maggie with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that. He doesn't normally act this way. I don't know what's got into him."

Maggie's eyes remained focused on that shut door as she sighed softly. "I think I do," she whispered.

John frowned. "Come again?"

Snapping out of it, Maggie turned her attention back to the group, smiling a little as she shook her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter." John searched her eyes once more, trying to find the hidden truth behind that face, but Maggie quickly hid it, not wanting to start anything between these two. It wasn't her place. "Look, I'd love to go!" she said enthusiastically. "But I really don't have anything to wear. I mean, all I've got is what I'm wearing now, and I don't think that's going to pass muster."

Dressed like this at a party in the very heart of London was bound to make her stick out like a sore thumb and Maggie wasn't too fond of the idea of being asked who she was all night long. She didn't think it would bode well to start spreading that she was from the future. She'd probably end the night in a straight jacket in the loony bin if she did that!

John looked unconcerned as he motioned Mal forward, smiling slightly at the roadie. "Hey, Mal," he said, turning on one of his charming smiles, already knowing the man would do whatever he asked. "Can you run Maggie out to get a dress and maybe a change of clothes for tomorrow? Just charge it." Maggie opened her mouth to object but John quickly shut her off with a raise of his hand and a coy look. "And no protests luv. You can pay me back when you teach me all of Paul's big hits before he writes them." With a single wink he had managed to get her up and out of her chair and following Mal out into the middle of town in search of the perfect dress.

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A/N:

This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.

Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)