If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 58 - 4.Oct.1964 - 7.Oct.1964

Chapter 58 

October 4, 1964

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, letting my feet hit the ground. I'd been up and walking for days now, but it was the first time I was back in my own clothing. There was something so mood-lifting about being out of a ruddy hospital gown. And even though I hadn't been able to take a real shower since my surgery, I finally felt a bit like myself again.

With careful movements, I bent over, pulled my stockings on, and slipped my feet into black flats. The door swung open, and I lifted my head too quickly causing a shooting pain in my skull, originating from the massive surgical scar. I winced through the feeling, trying not to raise my hand to my head. I hated touching the scar.

"Liv, you all right?" John asked, his voice tight, as he stepped into the room. He had sunglasses sitting on top of his head and was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, a dark jacket, and jeans. His light brown eyes met mine before he gave me a once-over. He looked beyond dishy, and I was very sure thoughts like that were strictly forbidden, so I buried the thought and clenched my teeth through the radiating pain.

John had bags under his eyes and a tired look about him because he'd barely had a moment to rest since coming back from the whirlwind tour of North America. He rarely left my side at the ozzy, only leaving when he had no other option...twice for recording sessions for the Beatles' next album and twice to rehearse and tape the boys' appearance on the U.S. television show Shindig. And once when Paul forced him to shower at the Asher house because I'd mentioned to Paul that John was truly starting to stink.

Even when he left, he came back as soon as he could, resuming his position next to me in his chair. He watched over me like I might disappear if I was out of his sight for too long.

We hadn't talked about anything of consequence or any of our problems. Instead, he just sat by me, holding my hand through the pain and helping me sleep when I woke up from a bad dream.

But he rarely looked at ease as he sat beside me, the entire situation of me being in the ozzy not sitting well with him. He spent his time fidgeting and doodling, trying to control the constant stress that I knew he was feeling about what happened to me, but he sure as hell wasn't talking about. 

I hadn't taken a sleeping pill since I woke up in the ozzy, but the pain medication made me a bit loopy, creating stranger than normal dreams, and some of them were downright terrifying. On a few occasions, John climbed into bed next to me, rules be damned, because he knew he could help lull me back to sleep. And truthfully, he needed sleep, too. No one made a fuss about it, probably because of his less-than-pleasant demeanor toward the poor nurses.

"Yeah, I'm all right." I grimaced as I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Just those damned shooting pains again."

He checked his watch and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room. It was covered with our things...my purse, his guitar, his bag filled with a few sets of spare clothing, and numerous little slips of paper covered in lyrics, short stories, and doodles.

When I was awake but in too much pain to talk, I listened to his stories and giggled at his sense of humor. And when he smiled, I knew that I'd laughed exactly where he wanted me to. It was so much like how it used to be between us...being around him was almost as easy as breathing, but I didn't know what to think about our sudden closeness, so I just didn't.

I'd accepted his company, no questions asked, but now we were parting ways. I tried not to think about the days to come without him just when I was getting used to him being around again. I wasn't sure how many more times I could handle John and me walking away from each other. But it was probably better that we part ways because being around him made me yearn for things I couldn't have.