Not a Second Time -COMPLETED-

Half the Man

Half the Man

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Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay......

~Yesterday, The Beatles

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"I can't believe this," muttered John.

He was pacing their hotel room, running both hands over his newly shorn head every few minutes. John could feel the tension building. He was just so utterly frustrated – frustrated and stuck.

There was nowhere to go. He could do nothing.

And his appearance wasn't helping matters. He had avoided mirrors for as long as humanely possible, but then he'd happened to glance in the glass and it all went to hell.

The good news was, he wasn't a complete stranger. The bad news was that all the progress he had made in the last twenty or so years had been completely erased.

He looked like a freaking kid again. Twenty one, maybe a little younger, but the exact age wasn't important. What was important was the fact that he had completely backtracked.

She will never know you.

John pushed the echo away, but all his other problems came to light.

Beethoven and Elvis were stuck days away. Buddy was on his way via car. Alonzo was annoying the heck out of him.

He had no idea why they were here or what to do. He had half a mind to desert all of these people and strike off on his own to find Yoko.

On the other hand, he had never dealt well with being on his own.

"You know, you're not a very nice person," commented Ali from her perch on one of the queen beds.

John glared at her. Alonzo had taught Ali how to use the internet app on her cell phone, and she was reading up on all of the musicians that had been in the house.

"I'm quite aware of the fact that I'm an awful human being," said John. "You don't need to comment on it."

"You got a little crazy too," said Alonzo. He was sprawled on the other bed, tossing a baseball in the air and then catching it.

"I'm a little crazy now," growled John, resuming his pacing. "It didn't go away, you know."

"Hmm," said Alonzo, not seeming overly frightened.

A knock came at the door. John flew to it, yanking it open. "About time," he said. "How long does it take to drive down from Lansing?"

The person at the door raised an eyebrow. It was not Buddy. It was an older, balding, overweight man who looked slightly angry.

"Can I help you?" asked John coldly, his tone completely changing.

"Yes, you can," said the man, not looking intimidated, "By vacating the premises immediately."

"Excuse me?" said John, not caring that this idiot had no clue who he was or even that he was still alive. He was not in the mood to be trifled with.

"Your method of payment fell through. I am being extremely generous here. Now leave, before I ask you to pay the bills that you owe or before I report you to the police for identity theft," said the man.

John realized that he must be the hotel manager. "I don't think so," said John coolly.

Just then, Ali appeared at his elbow, smiling apologetically at the manager.