A/N: Hello, everyone... And welcome to my second Non-ATU fanfic! This one is indeed a George story. I would like to say that this story pretty much doesn't follow the history. Well, it does, but I kind of pushed aside time for this story. So don't get too upset when you find that some of these events aren't in the right place, or that some events didn't happen...WIBBLY WOBBLY TIMEY WIMEY. Stuff. It doesn't matter. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Rating: T for swearing, possible...implied intercourse in the future... Yep.
DISCLAIMER: I (sadly) do not own the Beatles. Or anyone/anything associated with them.
There are those moments in life. Those moments where something happens and you just begin to wonder if the world is just a figment of someone else's imagination. You wonder if the world is really a lie. You wonder how these things could possibly happen. Especially to you.
This was just another one of those moments. It seemed to me that I was a magnet to those moments. I had to live through them all throughout my life. They became ordinary; they no longer were moments that stuck out in my life, like a sore thumb. There were just so many. And I continuingly told myself that this one was just another moment.
But it wasn't. This moment would always stick out in my life. And I would never be able to bring myself back to reality. I would never be able to accept the world again. Not after this.
I knew what was to come. And so did everyone else.
Sitting in the waiting room all day only made the whole accepting part of this harder. I glanced around at the people in the room. Out of all people, the one person I least expected to show up was Pattie. She married that Clapton fellow only a month ago, and it seemed as if she had replaced us with his people.
Shaking my head, I looked over at John and Paul. They were silent and rarely showed expression. They were scared, nervous, and sad. They were depressed.
I gave my attention to Ringo, who's eyes were bloodshot, and his nose red. His cheeks were filled with sticky, dried-up tears. He sniffled quite a bit, and avoided eye contact.
I glanced at the clock. 19:27. I first arrived around 11:00 earlier this morning. I made it over before anyone else. I didn't even prepare to leave. I left as soon as I got the message.
A message that lacked words. It was a simple message. But when I recieved it, I was told a whole story. Not from the messenger, but from the wordless message.
A man appeared at my door earlier on. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and put something in it secretly. He closed my hand right away, making sure I didn't see the object. He kissed my hand and then left me alone on my porch. I looked down into my hand to find a silver necklace chain. On it was a box designed with a Celtic knot, causing the box to have some wholes instead of the surface being solid and flat. It was a necklace; and a beautiful one at that.
But the necklace had much more meaning to it. I had one similar to it. However, mine was golden, and instead of a Celtic knot box, it was a Celtic knot locket. They had the same meaning, though. The same, powerful meaning.
The two necklaces were gifts between George and I. He gave me the locket, and I gave him the small box. I told him to keep the necklace on to store the memories of us together. Almost as if you were putting a bunch of old memorable things in a box to store in the attic. He told me to store all of my love in the heart of the locket, as if it were my own heart. But it was only meant for the love I had for him.
We decided that if we ever were to split apart, or be separated in any way, that we had to give the necklaces back to each other. Since George and I were still happily in love when I received the necklace from the man, I knew right away what was happening. His illness.
And so, as I looked at his necklace and stood on my front porch, the message swarmed into my head and I found myself breaking down in tears. I grabbed my coat right away and left in my car. I sobbed the whole way there. I probably shouldn't have driven there, considering how much I was shaking.
But here I am now, sitting in the waiting room with everyone else. I must've ran out of tears because I stopped crying a few hours ago.
A doctor finally came in. He flipped a paper over the clipboard to look at something beneath it. "Uhm, Ms. Harrison?"
I wasn't married to George. He hadn't even proposed yet. However, anywhere we went, I was always Ms. Harrison. I suppose it was a way to say that I was his official girlfriend.
I glanced up slowly. I waved politely to him. "Yes, I'm her."
"I need to have a word with you," He said, his voice low and somewhat sad.
I nodded and silently stood. I began to walk away with the doctor, glancing back at everyone else in the waiting room. All their eyes were wide as they became worried.
The doctor led me through a door into the hallway and walked beside me quickly. "It's about George," He said.
"I've kind of got that one figured," I said with a sad shrug.
He nodded to me and then pushed open the door to a room. George's room. And suddenly I found that the tears that had abandoned me a few hours ago were beginning to return as I cried when the Doctor gave me the news.