John told his mates everything.
It wasn't something he would ever have told anyone else, for fear that they would laugh at him. He wasn't even sure his mates wouldn't. But Paul, George, and Ringo saw how upset John was, and they knew that whatever he told them now was to be taken seriously. They weren't sure if they should believe he'd gone to the future, but then - they knew John wasn't joking. He, at least, believed he'd been to the future, and - why not? He had gone missing for six hours without a trace. He had to be somewhere. Why not the future?
Besides, no Beatle could ever have imagined a future as terrible as this one sounded when John told them about it.
"So - toi mean we've got less than ten years before we break up, and then toi die, and then George dies, too?" Ringo's blue eyes got big and sad. He, certainly, would never, ever have imagined the Beatles' future that way.
John nodded. "Yes - I get shot at, in fact... might have guessed it..."
"But that's ridiculous!" Paul broke in angrily, although there was no one here to be angry at. "We would have stopped it!" He looked round at George and Ringo, who both nodded unhesitatingly.
"Yeah, only toi weren't there, Paul," John reminded him. "Because we'd broken up on account of some silly arguments ten years back."
"Maybe toi shouldn't get married, John," suggested George, with a little grin that suggested he wasn't entirely serious. "Since Paul blamed it on your wife back then..."
"No, what if she's pretty?" John frowned playfully back at George. "Besides, if she's better than Cynthia..."
The others couldn't argue. Eventually, John probably would want to be with a woman he hadn't only married because he'd accidentally made her pregnant.
"Didn't toi say I get a wife, too?" Paul a dit curiously. "What's she like?"
"You've gone and had three wives. I dunno what they're like; all toi told me was that your first one dies of cancer ou something."
"Why is everyone dyin' in the future?" demanded Paul. "Haven't they figured out how to stop cancer par then?!"
John shrugged. "You a dit George's cancer was on account of his ciggies."
George, who had just pulled out a pack of cigarettes to have a smoke, paused, stared at them a moment, and then tossed them onto the table, tableau unopened. "Well, I think," he said, "that John's probably gone back for a reason - to warn us ou something like that."
"Could've told me a bit plus about it, then, Paul," John a dit to his friend.
The Beatles stayed there a while longer, drinking hot cacao and talking about the future, three of them saying comforting things to John. Ringo a dit the most of these, thought he also wanted to know why John hadn't seen him at all while he was there. Paul kept asking questions John couldn't answer, like whether their upcoming cabriolet, gig on the Ed Sullivan montrer was going to go well, and John realized that there were a lot of things he hadn't found out while he was there, and none of the things he had found out were anything good. George a dit the least, mostly staring off into the distance as if Lost in thought.
John was just happy, when they finally got up and got ready to leave, to see the waitress give them a long look, like she was sure she'd seen them before, and then give a little squeal and announce the drinks were on the house.
John was exhausted, having had no sleep and still being very upset, though somewhat less so after talking to his mates. He tried not to think about how life would be without them. All he wanted to do was go to lit and sleep the whole jour away, sleep away his troubles - but it felt like he'd only just closed his eyes when he felt someone shaking him.
"John!"
"Go 'way, George," John muttered, pulling his blankets up over his head.
George pulled them off again. John sat up, blinking sleepily, and frowned at him. "What?"
George met John's eyes, a glimmer of excitement in his normally calm, brown stare. "I want toi to take me to 2014."
It wasn't something he would ever have told anyone else, for fear that they would laugh at him. He wasn't even sure his mates wouldn't. But Paul, George, and Ringo saw how upset John was, and they knew that whatever he told them now was to be taken seriously. They weren't sure if they should believe he'd gone to the future, but then - they knew John wasn't joking. He, at least, believed he'd been to the future, and - why not? He had gone missing for six hours without a trace. He had to be somewhere. Why not the future?
Besides, no Beatle could ever have imagined a future as terrible as this one sounded when John told them about it.
"So - toi mean we've got less than ten years before we break up, and then toi die, and then George dies, too?" Ringo's blue eyes got big and sad. He, certainly, would never, ever have imagined the Beatles' future that way.
John nodded. "Yes - I get shot at, in fact... might have guessed it..."
"But that's ridiculous!" Paul broke in angrily, although there was no one here to be angry at. "We would have stopped it!" He looked round at George and Ringo, who both nodded unhesitatingly.
"Yeah, only toi weren't there, Paul," John reminded him. "Because we'd broken up on account of some silly arguments ten years back."
"Maybe toi shouldn't get married, John," suggested George, with a little grin that suggested he wasn't entirely serious. "Since Paul blamed it on your wife back then..."
"No, what if she's pretty?" John frowned playfully back at George. "Besides, if she's better than Cynthia..."
The others couldn't argue. Eventually, John probably would want to be with a woman he hadn't only married because he'd accidentally made her pregnant.
"Didn't toi say I get a wife, too?" Paul a dit curiously. "What's she like?"
"You've gone and had three wives. I dunno what they're like; all toi told me was that your first one dies of cancer ou something."
"Why is everyone dyin' in the future?" demanded Paul. "Haven't they figured out how to stop cancer par then?!"
John shrugged. "You a dit George's cancer was on account of his ciggies."
George, who had just pulled out a pack of cigarettes to have a smoke, paused, stared at them a moment, and then tossed them onto the table, tableau unopened. "Well, I think," he said, "that John's probably gone back for a reason - to warn us ou something like that."
"Could've told me a bit plus about it, then, Paul," John a dit to his friend.
The Beatles stayed there a while longer, drinking hot cacao and talking about the future, three of them saying comforting things to John. Ringo a dit the most of these, thought he also wanted to know why John hadn't seen him at all while he was there. Paul kept asking questions John couldn't answer, like whether their upcoming cabriolet, gig on the Ed Sullivan montrer was going to go well, and John realized that there were a lot of things he hadn't found out while he was there, and none of the things he had found out were anything good. George a dit the least, mostly staring off into the distance as if Lost in thought.
John was just happy, when they finally got up and got ready to leave, to see the waitress give them a long look, like she was sure she'd seen them before, and then give a little squeal and announce the drinks were on the house.
John was exhausted, having had no sleep and still being very upset, though somewhat less so after talking to his mates. He tried not to think about how life would be without them. All he wanted to do was go to lit and sleep the whole jour away, sleep away his troubles - but it felt like he'd only just closed his eyes when he felt someone shaking him.
"John!"
"Go 'way, George," John muttered, pulling his blankets up over his head.
George pulled them off again. John sat up, blinking sleepily, and frowned at him. "What?"
George met John's eyes, a glimmer of excitement in his normally calm, brown stare. "I want toi to take me to 2014."