Slashed Wings

Help!

Chapter 8

    To the endless dismay of the rest of the Beatles, Brian insisted that they go back to the hotel for the night while the surgery was being performed. John had tried to bargain that it would be cheaper to stay at the hospital, but Brian didn't budge. He only gave John one of his signature 'I know your game' looks. So the Three boys and their manager were left to leave the facility in misery.
    Ringo was actually glad to have some time to rest, something they would need for tomorrow. And after they arrived back into their rooms, there wasn't much else to be done other than to go to bed. So he just combed his hair, brushed his teeth, took off his suit and plopped into the king-sized bed. He couldn't shut his eyes, though. Thoughts and worries just swept his mind, he knew it was the same for the rest of them, but something just seemed very off.
    When he realized what the matter was, Ringo was unsure if it even made him feel any better. The fact was that George was supposed to be sharing this bed with him tonight. The space now felt too big, looming even, making Ringo feel even more empty. He allowed his eyes to fill up with tears a bit before wiping them away.
    Suddenly, the door creaked and Ringo heard footsteps. His heart almost shot out of his chest, what if this was the shooter back for more?! He would have to do something, run, hide... But his wave of thoughts were quickly calmed as he heard a quavery voice call out, "Ritchie? It's me, Paul." The first thing that caught Ringo's attention was the meek tone of Paul's voice, but secondly, what was he doing in his room so late? The footsteps got nearer, and Ringo could feel the creak of Paul sitting down on the side of his bed. "Paul, what are you doing here at-" he leaned over to read the time on the clock- "2:20 in the morning?"
    "I-I'm sorry Ringo, I just had to ask you something." He started desperately. "No, it's alright... I was still awake anyway. I doubt any of us will get much sleep." The drummer reassured him. Paul took another quavery breath, and, from what Ringo could tell, choked back a small sob. "Have I... been a bad friend?" Ringo was taken aback, how did Paul reach this conclusion from today? "Of course not! Paul, you've been great to us."  "I-I know but, after today when I talked with him, I realized that I've always been leaving George behind! I'm always runnin' off to write with John or summat... that I feel that sometimes it seems like I forget about him..." He practically sobbed.
      "Paul, George is fine. He understands I'm sure. You could talk to him later." Ringo winced as he said the last statement, knowing full well they might not be able to even see the guitarist again. Paul seemed better though, "Thanks Ritch, I'll be better, I promise." He whispered. After that he quietly exited the room. As Ringo hear the door slowly shut, he allowed another wave of misery to flow over him. Had they said enough? He still couldn't quite comprehend never talking to George again.
     Even though his mind was in a constant state of turmoil, the stress and anxiety from the day was enough to cause his eyes to fall close and he soon fell into a fitful sleep.
     An hour or two later he awoke with Paul bursting into his room. Noticing the time, he quickly threw aside the sheets and shot out of bed. The three Beatles scrambled to get ready, with John mostly being silent. And after finally prepping up the smallest amount possible, they confronted Brian, who told them the plan. "The press will be on us like animals, but I've ordered a car to pick us up and take us to the hospital the back route. The only problem is it will take slightly longer." They all groaned in unison, not thinking they could handle more waiting. But if it was best to escape the press, it might be necessary.
                                --——
    An hour or so of driving later, they arrived at the hospital. The drive had consisted of barely more than uncomfortable and tense silence, at most maybe a cough or two. When they pulled up to the hospital drive the boys threw open the doors and booked it out of the vehicle, barely waiting for Brian to catch up. Out of breath and facing the grim white doors, they knew this could lead to either the greatest relief, or most crippling misery they could face in a long time.