Something More {Mclennon Oneshots}

Not My Paul

November 6th, 1966 Paul died in a car crash. Thankfully it wasn't gruesome. According to the paramedics he died quickly but that was no consultation to the rest of The Beatles. He was cremated and each Beatle kept a vile with some of his ashes, John made his into a necklace, George kept his in his pocket, and Ringo would keep it under his pillow so he could see Paul in his dreams. The recording sessions had stopped for a while and when they started again there was barely any speaking, the joy was gone from their lives and John had become isolated and easily irritable. George spoke up one day though, "We should spread his ashes." He said, pointing to the urn near his iconic bass on the piano in an empty corner of the room. "Where would we do it?" John murmured. "We could go to Penny Lane and spread some there, or his farm." Ringo added. John nodded, "He did love those places." "I think we should spread some by his first house and off the roof of the studio." George said. John nodded once again and grabbed the urn with Paul and began stampeding up the stairs to the roof.

Ringo and George followed after, being worried about the harsh behavior of the man that was so close to their passed friend. John stood at the edge of the roof, digging his hand into the urn, grabbing a handful of ashes, letting them fall from the rooftop of Abbey Road Studios. George and Ringo didn't dare to interrupt such an intimate moment, they just looked on. George actually leaned on Ringo's shoulder and softly cried at the loss of his long term best friend. They didn't talk for a long time. John eventually turned and went downstairs with an expressionless face. When the others caught up with their leader he was sitting in a chair, staring at the urn. "Come on boys, let's go for a ride." John said, standing up and walking out the door. John got in the driver's seat of his black car and put Paul in the passenger seat, wrapping the seat belt around him so none spilled if they took a sharp turn. Ringo and George didn't ask any questions and crawled into the backseat of the car.

After driving for a little while they were on the familiar street John and George had been to many times. They stopped the car and got out in front of one of the little row houses. They all stared at the empty house, no one lived in what was once a lively house. This time, George reached into the urn, grabbed a fistful of his friend and sprinkled him around the front door. The boy wiped the ashes from his hand and went back to sit in the car, he didn't like crying in front of his mates. After some minutes they all got back in the car, Ringo was holding Paul and as they drove down Penny Lane, Ringo took a handful of Paul and stuck his hand out the open window. Next they began to drive to Paul's farm, seeing as it was a longer trip, John decided to turn on the radio. The song was just near the end and the boys all recognized the next song as their own, but John knew it as more. I've Just Seen A Face. He wrote that song with Paul, they wrote it for each other. As Paul's voice flowed from the speakers it was too much for poor old Johnny, his eyes watered but he wouldn't cry. He just wanted Paul back, the only person he truly loved other than Mimi. John punched the radio as hard as he could, since it was still working, he punched it until the music stopped. His knuckles were bleeding from the sharp plastic and knobs. The two in the backseat watched in horror as blood dripped down John's arm but he continued driving and none of them spoke until they got to Paul's farm. They put the car into park and got out, John dumped most of the ashes, leaving just a little, he didn't want to get rid of all of Paul. 

All of the boys went into the small farm house to discuss the future of the band. "It's over isn't it?" John asked as he collapsed on the dusty couch in the living room. "Paul wouldn't want us to quit making music." Ringo added, sitting next to John. George was pacing around the room, "We can't make music without a bassist, and John can't write all the songs by himself." John nodded solemnly. Then there was a knock at the door. George rushed to answer it. What George saw baffled him, it was a boy that looked exactly like Paul. It was uncanny. "I noticed that nobody had been here for a little while so I hope you don't mind that I tended to your sheep, I live just down the road." The boy paused for a moment, "You're a Beatle! I didn't know a Beatle lived here!" He said with a smile. George pulled him inside for John and Ringo to see the lookalike. The farm boy looked like he was having the best day of his life, while The Beatles looked as if they'd seen a ghost. John, being the leader, asked the first questions, "What's your name boy?"