Paranoid (A Beatles Fanfiction)

So Don't You Play With Me, 'Cause You're Playin' With Fire

Only one word was fit to describe the situation...crazy.

A mass hysteria, the loudness of a third world war. All because of George Harrison.

A stretcher that was in keep for any fans passing out/getting sick was used for George as they wheeled him across the field of Wembley. Thank God there was always paramedics and ambulances on hand during every show. But still, it wasn't comforting enough to soothe the other three over the health of their guitarist. While being pushed on the stretcher, paramedics still struggled to hold George down. He was kicking, screaming, sobbing. He was hysterical. Yelling incoherent things and screaming the number eight and seven in fear. And yelling about how, "He's going to kill me!" but who?

Ringo had ahold of George's hand the entire time. Running as fast as he could to keep up with the fast moving speed the stretcher was challenging him to. "Sir, you'll have to let go of his hand." one paramedic said as they finally arrived outside to an ambulance guarded by police officers. Ringo reluctantly let go of George's hand, stifling back a small whimper at the lost contact. While the paramedics worked George into the back of the ambulance, one paramedic asked, "Is there anyone here that is George's emergency contact?"

Brian stepped up from behind John and Ringo. "Yes, me. I'm Brian Epstein, their manager. I'm their first contact." "Okay, get in the back too. We need you there to fill out some papers and confirm some things for us." Brian wasted no time in getting into the back of the ambulance. "Wait, what hospital are you taking him to?" "The nearest one is Boone Memorial Hospital. We'll take him there for evaluation." With that, the two paramedics hopped in the back of the ambulance and closed the door. Only the sirens and George's muffled screams could be heard through the closed doors.

Once the ambulance left, Mal turned to the three and said, "Come on, we need to leave fast. I'll drive us to Boone." Ringo and Paul agreed, but John was resentful of going. "We can go but we need to stop at the hotel first." "Why?" Paul asked. "Because I have to get something." Paul's face went red. "For fucks sakes can't you put your own selfish needs off for later! This is serious Jo-" "It's for George, Paul. It's something the doctors will have to know about." They all looked confused. "What? Is George on drugs?" Mal asked. John bit his lip. "It's drugs yes, but, it's medication. He wouldn't tell me what kind of medication he was on a few months ago and I need to get them to bring with us because they'll need to know the medication he's on." "How do you know he's on it?" Ringo asked. John rolled his eyes. "I've roomed with him for months and watched him take them. He keeps them in this small leather travel bag. It's in the hotel bathroom." Mal nodded. "Right, well, let's hurry."

After a silent car ride, quick run into the hotel and another silent car ride, Mal drove the three to Boone Memorial in the Get-Away car. Which is Brian's 1961 Cadillac he always brings to shows in-case of such emergencies. Halfway during the car ride, Paul took the bag from John's lap and began to unzip it. John smacked Paul in the face and grabbed the bag from him. "John! What the hell?" "Don't fuckin' look at his meds." "Well we need to find out what kind he's on so we'll have an idea-" "No Paul, shut up. We'll take this to the doctors and they can tell us what he's on and why he's acting the way he has been." "John, I want to see what he's on. I want to at least get an idea of how to help him after he gets let out." "That might not fucking happen Paul!" John screamed.

The car went silent. "John...you know something don't you?" Paul asked. John nodded. "Yes, and I'm not telling you because I don't want to be wrong or put something on George that he doesn't even have." "John, what do you think it is?" Ringo asked from the front seat. "HE'S LOST HIS FUCKING MIND, ALRIGHT?!" John yelled.

The car was silent, again, until John's sigh broke it. "It's my fucking fault I haven't told you two yet. And Mal. And Brian. But...I've been rooming with him for nearly a year and I notice things about him. I know what he talks about in his sleep and even what he talks about outloud. He hallucinates I think. He...he screams, and cries and passes them off as nightmares when he even has them during the day! He's so secretive anymore. He hides his suitcase under a table or under his bed to make sure no one will get it. He mumbles random numbers and I can hear him having full on conversations with someone who's not there. He keeps every door in the hotel rooms closed and even if we're just out and about back stage, every door has to be closed. Or else he just flips! He gets scared sometimes at the slightest noises and he's just...God...it kills me to see him like this. It really fucking does."

Tears were now brimming in John's eyes. He felt hopeless...but he knew he could have done something sooner. He know's he could have snuck into George's medicine bag while he was asleep or while he was out. Just to get an idea of what's wrong.

"John, calm down." Paul said softly. "Mal pull the car over for a second." Mal pulled the car underneath a underpass they were just driving to. John's breathing was heavy and his head hurt from anger. After John calmed down a few moments later, he ripped open George's medicine bag and began to take open bottles.

"John!" Paul yelled, trying to grab the bottles from John's hands. "No Paul! I can't take it. I know I said we should respect George's privacy but damnit I need to know what is wrong with him!"

Paul let go slowly; Mal and Ringo both turned around watching him from the front seat. It took John a second to read the small writing on the bottles since he didn't have his glasses on him. A few moment later, John mumbled, "Oh my God..." "What?! What's it say?" Ringo yelled. John took a moment to reply, re-studying the bottles over again. "It's...he has one bottle of Paxil which is an anti-depressant. Cyn took it when she was pregnant with Julian. And one called Busbar, which I think is an anxiety medication but it doesn't say. And the last one is Abilify." He let the sentence linger until Paul spoke up. "So?" John gulped a bit. "Stuart used to take off versions of this pill in Hamburg because his headaches would get so bad he'd see and hear things. Hallucinate. Lads, this medication is used for Schizophrenia."

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