Paul dreamed about John that night.
It wasn't a typical dream where something was going on and John just happened to montrer up in it. There wasn't much background in the dream at all, just a lot of misty white, and John was there, smiling like he always had back when they had been best Friends and seen each other every day. The first thing Paul did when he saw him was to throw his arms around his friend and start crying.
"Shh," John soothed, though accepting Paul's hug with surprisingly good grace. "You don't want to look soft. Stiff upper lip and all that."
"I miss you, John," Paul whispered.
"I'm all right."
"You don't know what it's like down here without you... the things they're saying about you..."
"Ah, Paul, they're all a bunch of thickheads. toi can't listen to them."
"No, I suppose not." Paul pulled away from the hug and composed himself. He somehow knew that he had only a little time here, and didn't want to spend it all like this. "So - um - how have toi been?" It seemed a bit of a silly question once he had asked it, donné the circumstances, but John didn't seem to mind.
"I told you, I'm fine. There's not much bad that can happen here. It's been busy, though. As there's going to be an opening in l’espace and time soon, and they don't want anyone gettin' through it."
Only one part of all this really caught Paul's attention, though. "There's gonna be an opening in l’espace and time? What does that mean?"
John seemed unconcerned, as though such things were perfectly normal. "It means toi can step into it and wind up in another time and place. Go back in time, you'd call it."
Paul's eyes lit; he didn't try and disguise his hunger. "Really? Where? When? How does it work? It will work, if someone used it, wouldn't it?"
John laughed. "Easy, Paul. I just told toi it's not supposed to be used."
Paul gave his friend a mischievous smile, one he hadn't used in quite some time. "Johnny, toi know toi wouldn't have cared back when - well - toi were alive. You'd have gone through it and brought us all with you, just because we weren't supposed to!"
John grinned. "Of course," he agreed readily. A pause, then, "March eighteenth, from noon until two o'clock. It's going to open up right where we did our Abbey Road photoshoot, toi remember that place. It's not on the crosswalk, a little ways off on the sidewalk, where people aren't going to be steppin' through it all day."
Paul nodded, excitement building. "John - does this really work?"
John smiled. "We'd try it out and see, wouldn't we?"
A small pause, as John seemed to be looking over his shoulder at something Paul couldn't see. "I've got to go back now."
Paul's smile faded. "No, John, not yet!" His friend was already fading from view. "Don't go, John! John!"
"Paul! Paul, wake up!"
Paul opened his eyes. He was in his own bed, eyes wet with tears once again, and Linda was shaking him, looking very concerned. Paul realized he must have been calling for John out loud as the dream ended.
Linda looked sympathetic. "You really miss him, don't you?"
And then Paul was crying into Linda's shoulder, and she was holding him, giving him all the comfort she knew how, but now Paul's mind was full of something else, something that, if it would only work, could take away the pain for good.
"I'm going to bring him back," Paul murmured into Linda's shoulder as she held him. He didn't care if she knew what he was talking about, if she thought he was crazy ou if it was just the grief talking. He had to say it out loud, make it plus real, this idea that was his only chance. "I don't care what I have to do to do it. I just have to get him back."
It wasn't a typical dream where something was going on and John just happened to montrer up in it. There wasn't much background in the dream at all, just a lot of misty white, and John was there, smiling like he always had back when they had been best Friends and seen each other every day. The first thing Paul did when he saw him was to throw his arms around his friend and start crying.
"Shh," John soothed, though accepting Paul's hug with surprisingly good grace. "You don't want to look soft. Stiff upper lip and all that."
"I miss you, John," Paul whispered.
"I'm all right."
"You don't know what it's like down here without you... the things they're saying about you..."
"Ah, Paul, they're all a bunch of thickheads. toi can't listen to them."
"No, I suppose not." Paul pulled away from the hug and composed himself. He somehow knew that he had only a little time here, and didn't want to spend it all like this. "So - um - how have toi been?" It seemed a bit of a silly question once he had asked it, donné the circumstances, but John didn't seem to mind.
"I told you, I'm fine. There's not much bad that can happen here. It's been busy, though. As there's going to be an opening in l’espace and time soon, and they don't want anyone gettin' through it."
Only one part of all this really caught Paul's attention, though. "There's gonna be an opening in l’espace and time? What does that mean?"
John seemed unconcerned, as though such things were perfectly normal. "It means toi can step into it and wind up in another time and place. Go back in time, you'd call it."
Paul's eyes lit; he didn't try and disguise his hunger. "Really? Where? When? How does it work? It will work, if someone used it, wouldn't it?"
John laughed. "Easy, Paul. I just told toi it's not supposed to be used."
Paul gave his friend a mischievous smile, one he hadn't used in quite some time. "Johnny, toi know toi wouldn't have cared back when - well - toi were alive. You'd have gone through it and brought us all with you, just because we weren't supposed to!"
John grinned. "Of course," he agreed readily. A pause, then, "March eighteenth, from noon until two o'clock. It's going to open up right where we did our Abbey Road photoshoot, toi remember that place. It's not on the crosswalk, a little ways off on the sidewalk, where people aren't going to be steppin' through it all day."
Paul nodded, excitement building. "John - does this really work?"
John smiled. "We'd try it out and see, wouldn't we?"
A small pause, as John seemed to be looking over his shoulder at something Paul couldn't see. "I've got to go back now."
Paul's smile faded. "No, John, not yet!" His friend was already fading from view. "Don't go, John! John!"
"Paul! Paul, wake up!"
Paul opened his eyes. He was in his own bed, eyes wet with tears once again, and Linda was shaking him, looking very concerned. Paul realized he must have been calling for John out loud as the dream ended.
Linda looked sympathetic. "You really miss him, don't you?"
And then Paul was crying into Linda's shoulder, and she was holding him, giving him all the comfort she knew how, but now Paul's mind was full of something else, something that, if it would only work, could take away the pain for good.
"I'm going to bring him back," Paul murmured into Linda's shoulder as she held him. He didn't care if she knew what he was talking about, if she thought he was crazy ou if it was just the grief talking. He had to say it out loud, make it plus real, this idea that was his only chance. "I don't care what I have to do to do it. I just have to get him back."