The Vault

My Little Yardbird Flew Away - Jimmy Page Fic

May 30th, 1967

"Okay Jimmy, you look to the left. Chris and Jeff, look to the right. Yes, just like that.." The photographer called out to us, directing us to take the best shots. "Jim and Keith, you two look directly into the camera. Yes. Perfect."

We were doing a promotional shoot for our upcoming U.S tour, this summer. The photographer, Mr. Victor Carter, was the same photographer that we've used for the Yardbirds, every year since Jeff and I both joined, nearly two years ago.

The studio in which we were shooting was actually quite nice as well. Set in the bustling city of New York, it's very open and airy and light, which was a nice change from the architecture I'm very well aquainted with. Light colored wood planks covered the floor, while the walls were painted white, with several different types of paintings and different shots of other bands that Victor has worked with. The walls, and apparently the floors and ceilings as well, happened to be paper thin however, causing us to hear everything that was going on on the second floor of the studio.

A few people were milling about upstairs. A few undistinct voices were speaking with one another. A drum kit was being lightly tapped upon, while the feint chords of a guitar could be heard. As much as I was paying attention to Victor's direction, I was keeping an ear on whoever was playing upstairs.

All of a sudden, the crackling of an amplifier could be heard, and then a thunderous G chord was struck, vibrating both the first and second floor of the studio, only to continue with a rather good improvised solo.

"Damn it.." Victor whispered under his breath. "I'm so sorry guys, that would be my niece and her band.. They use the loft as their little practice room. Let me go tell them to keep it down, and I'll be back in a few, okay?"

Just before he could even move, the music suddenly stopped. A few voices could be heard speaking again, and then all of a sudden, a shrill, girlish skriek could be heard for miles.
"Oh my god! Oh my fucking god, you're joking! You've gotta be joking, right?!" She, whoever she may be, called out enthusiastically to the very photographer in this room. "Vic! Holy shit, Uncle Vic!"

A few sets of footsteps came barrelling down the steps, ready to disrupt our semi-peaceful photo shoot, though I never would've expected the intruder to be as beautiful as she was.. The door burst open, and the most beautiful, yet awkward girl I had ever seen, came running into the room with a smile that lit up the entire room.

Her beauty was an enigma, as it wasn't traditional. There was no question that she was beauitful, but to place what exactly made her beautiful would've been a challenge. Her face, though I couldn't think of what was so different about it, was small and dainty. A little pointed pixie type of nose was centered between two, freckle-specked, flushed cheeks. Her lips, though thin, seemed plump at the same time, the bottom one currently caught between two impeccably white, gapped front teeth. Bright blue eyes were covered by a slight fringe, which only seemed to impeed her vision as she made her way towards her uncle. Running to him, her long, unnaturally straight chocolate brown hair flowed behind her, only to fall limply down her back when she ran directly into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing enthusiastically. When she let go, she stood back and let a small squeal escape her lips before she shared whatever news she'd just recieved.

"Vic! We did it! We fucking did it!" She gasped, unable to catch her breath. Little did I know, I was unable to catch mine either. Oxygen just seemed to escape me as I took in the sight of her, drowning in her features. "We just got signed! Atlantic Fucking Records, Vic! They want us, they actually want us and oh my god we're gonna do this! We're gonna be the biggest band the world has ever seen! No more shitty studio! That old Crowley house we read about that's hiding away in the bowels of Scotland? That's ours now! We can afford it, if we really want it!" I felt dizzy and my chest seemed to tighten at her words. Crowley? She likes Crowley? She must if she has any interest in the Boleskine House.. "Mr. Ertegun, he.. he wants to meet us. Today! He wants to meet us at their studios at..."