Chapter Text
It was nearing 5 am when the phone rang, jolting Paul awake. Beside him, Linda groaned. “Who could be calling this early?”
Paul grunted as he reached for the offending mechanism, half-tempted to toss it across the room. He’d been having the most pleasant dream.
… soft covers, light falling through sheer curtains… muffled moans and wet kisses… the shadow of the Eiffel tower outside…
Harsh breathing greeted him on the other end of the line, pulling Paul fully awake at last. “I… hello?”
A choking sound came through the speaker, hitting Paul like an arrow through the chest. Paul would know that broken sob anywhere. “John? John, what’s wrong?”
A pathetic question really. Everything was wrong lately.
When another quiet whimper answered him, Paul’s thoughts began to run wild. “Is it Yoko? John, what’s happened? Is she alright?”
John pulled in an audible breath. “No! I mean, yes? I mean… she's fine, Paul. She's fine. We’re fine. This… This is fine. Yeah.”
“Then why are you-”
“I just… I don’t know anymore, Paul.”
Paul couldn’t quite hold back the sigh that escaped into the receiver. “John, I’m going to call you back in two minutes, ‘right?”
As Paul kicked himself free of the covers and assured Linda that everything was okay, a small voice reached him through the phone. “Please hurry.”
Paul stopped cold, detecting the broken quality of John’s voice. Before he could say anything in response though, the line went dead and Paul was left with only the eerie hum of the dial tone.
Hurrying into a pair of boxers, Paul stumbled his way out of the bedroom and into his music studio, pulling the door shut behind himself. There was something deeply unsettling in John’s voice, something that he’d never heard before… something rooted deeper than drunkenness or the haze of drugs.
With clumsy fingers, Paul tore the phone from its hook and dialed the number he’d ached to dial more times than he could count.
Relief washed over him when, after four rings, there was a dull click. But the feeling quickly evaporated when an all too familiar monotone came over the line.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Paul took a steadying breath, trying to relax his suddenly tense jaw. “Yoko. Can I talk to John please? I was just-”
“He’s busy.”
In the background, Paul heard a quiet protest that was quickly silenced. Then Yoko was back, her voice muffled and closer to the receiver than it had been before. “He isn’t well-”
Paul tore his fingers through his hair, frustration mounting. “Just let me talk to him. One minute-”
“No.”
“I… what?”
There was a long pause on Yoko’s end, broken up by a low, indecipherable exchange. Then, a shuffling sound as the phone changed hands.
John’s voice, a bit steadier than it had been before, reached Paul at last. “I’m okay, Paul. Really I am.”
“You wouldn’t have called me if you were okay.”
“It was just a moment, you know, just a-”
“Tell me what’s going on. Get rid of her and talk to me, Johnny.”
The pet name seemed to work and Paul heard John release a shaky breath. John pulled back from the phone and a loud protest came from the background, a rising female voice arguing against what sounded like a resigned mutter. The exchange continued until the distant echo of a slamming door made Paul jump.
John’s voice was strained when he finally spoke again. “I’m fine, Paul. Just a bit knackered, is all.” The man swallowed audibly. Paul wondered if the lies he spoke tasted as badly as hearing them did.
“John… what’s going on?”
“I’m okay-”
“You clearly weren’t. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me…”
Another seemingly endless pause followed. Then a whisper, so quiet that Paul thought he could’ve imagined it.
“I can’t breathe.”
Paul paused, taken back. “What do you mean? Johnny?”
“I- I can’t breathe, Paul. I can’t breathe-”
At the sound of John’s obvious distress, Paul stood up from his chair, suddenly on high alert. “Okay, okay. Just calm down-”
“There’s just white walls, just white everywhere here.”
“John-”
“-you know how much I love green, Paulie, and I want green so bad and I can’t write anything anymore, the music’s just gone, it left me and I can’t breathe-”
“John, babe, listen to me-”
“Have you ever thought about dying, Paul?”
Paul’s heart stuttered in his chest. “W-what?”
“I know what’s gonna happen, Paul, I always knew. I can’t stop it anymore and- and I just wanted to say- to say that-”
John’s voice was abruptly cut off and Paul assumed the worst. “John? John!? Where-”
Yoko’s voice, as calm as ever, came through the speaker. “He’s not feeling well at all-”
“Put him back on.” Paul clenched the phone so tightly he thought it might splinter in his fist. “Yoko, put John back on-”
“No.”
“You- ‘no’?”
“John needs rest. He’s fine.”
The line went dead a moment later, her final words echoing in Paul’s ears. He’s fine.
John had said so himself that he was fine, hadn’t he? But clearly, that wasn’t true. Things were not fine, things were far from fine-
Have you ever thought about dying, Paul?
“Paul?”
Paul turned to find Linda leaning against the music room’s doorframe, a robe wrapped loosely around her. Her eyes were soft in the dim morning light that poured through the windows, highlighting her frame with a full-body halo. Linda’s presence alone helped to calm Paul’s racing heart.
She flicked her questioning gaze to the phone, still clutched in her husband’s shaking hand. “Was it John?”
Paul nodded slowly. Linda said nothing at first as she came further into the room, her robe swishing around her bare legs. With hands strong from farm work, yet gentle with a mother’s touch, she unwound Paul’s aching hand and set the phone back on its hook. “Go to him.”
Her words sent Paul’s heart racing again. “Lin, I can’t-”
“You have to, don’t you?” When Paul didn’t respond, she continued. “He needs you, Paul. Otherwise he wouldn’t call. His pride wouldn’t let him unless he really needed someone. And not just any old someone, will do. John Lennon needs you.”
I need somebody, Help! Not just anybody, Help!
Paul looked down at his wife, trying to find something to say. But all that came out was a weak, “I’m so sorry, Lin.”
The woman leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, it was to give him an understanding smile. “There’s no reason to be sorry, Paul. You don’t have to explain either. I already know.”
“You already… know?”
Linda grinned up at him. “Yes, I know. I know that right now you should be booking a flight to New York.”
“But-”
“He loves you, Paul. I don’t know what he said to you just now, but it’s got you rattled and you need to go to him. So I’ll do the feeding with Heather and you make some calls, okay?”