Yesterday - A Beatles Fanfic

Chapter The Fifth

I present the coveted and prestigious chocolate fish award to MissMaccaSunshine for giving me fresh ideas for this chapter. Thanks, Macca!

The doorknob rattled as a key turned in the lock, then the door opened. George was standing there, looking rather comical in his pyjamas. If it had been under any other circumstances, she'd have laughed. "Hey," he said, not quite knowing how to address the child. "Sorry for scarin' ye'. Are ye' okay?"

Yeah, she thought. I just jumped back fifty years, saw two people who should be dead, and two others who should be old and wrinkled. Oh, and by the way, I'm a teenager trapped in the body of a seven-year-old. "Ye-yeah." She gulped. "I guess I'm fine."

He nodded to the hallway. "C'mon out and we can talk 'bout it, huh?"

Jessie wasn't sure whether to act like herself or like a seven-year-old. She could try explaining everything, but she doubted that they'd believe her tale. Instead, she silently slunk out of the bathroom, hitching up her shorts which were now a bit too big for her, instead of being a size too small. Her shirt fell just above the hem. She tugged the drawstrings tight and knotted them firmly, then shoved her hands deep in the pockets.

She followed George into the living room. Ringo was sitting in the kitchen, pushing a piece of toast around his plate. It only had one bite taken out of it. A pot of warm porridge sat on the stove. He stood up when they entered the room.

"You're okay!" He said, relieved. "Ye' had us worried, lad."

"I'm not a boy!" She said indignantly

"Lass, then."

George patted a chair, encouraging her to sit. He swiped Ringo's toast and took a massive bite. "Eat somethin'," he said, pushing a bowl of porridge her way. "Ye'll feel better with somethin' in yer stomach. I know I do." He winked at her.

Still rather shaky after the morning's happenings, she perched on the edge of the chair and hungrily spooned the porridge into her mouth. Usually, she wasn't particularly fond of porridge, but she hadn't realised how hungry she actually was, and was ready to eat just about anything. By now Paul and John had appeared, finally dressed, and eyed the girl, curious, but concerned.

"D'ye 'ave a name then, lass?" Paul asked, coming and taking a seat next to her.

"Don't be stupid, Paul. Everyone 'as a name!" She heard John call from the living room. He was fiddling with the radio, but all he got was static. "That's odd..." He grumbled, giving the machine a whack.

She wiped an arm across her mouth and almost hiccuped. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten so fast. "Jessie. I'm Jessie Baxter." She smiled, still overwhelmed and a little shy.

"Well then Jessie, I don't believe we got the chance to introduce ourselves," Paul smiled back warmly. "I'm Paul, that's George, John's in the livin' room," he nodded to where John was still puzzling over the radio. "And Ringo is the one who found ye' in the park." Ringo gave a small wave.

Jessie nodded. "I know who you are." She looked at Ringo, "Thanks. I dunno how long I'd have lasted."

"What were ye' doin' there anyway?" George inquired, having stacked the dishes up in a pile by the sink to wash later. "Do ye' 'ave a home?"

Jessie appeared calm, but on the inside, her mind was racing for an answer. If she lied and said no, they'd be sure to take her somewhere. She'd probably get dumped in an orphanage. If she told the partial truth and said yes, they'd either take her to the police, her Aunt's house, or back to Thornleigh. Any of those options would be asking for trouble. The school wouldn't know her, there'd be different house owners, and the police would never find her parents. But if she explained the whole truth, they'd take it to be a silly story from a little kid.

Then, before she knew it, the answer came pouring out. "I-I do... But not one that counts." She forced her bottom lip to quiver. "I r-ran away." She said, hiccuping. Turns out she did eat breakfast too quickly. No matter, it added to the act. "They didn't care about me. No one does." She whispered. By now she'd even managed to bring a tear to her own eye.

John was back in the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe. He tried not to show it, but even he was touched by her story. Ringo looked on the verge of tears. George didn't say anything, but Pual wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Aww love, I'm so sorry!"

"Where are they?" John growled. "I'll give 'em a piece of me mind!"

"Not in Liverpool," Jessie said, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "I came a long way." More like a long time, she thought. "Excuse me for a moment." She slid off the chair and disappeared back to the bathroom. She couldn't keep the act up in front of them for much longer.

"Lads," Ringo sniffed, still upset. "We have to keep 'er!"

George sighed. "I don't know, Rings. Maybe if we took her to the police..."

"They'd send 'er home or somewhere worse!" Ringo argued. "We can't just get rid of 'er!" He looked at the other two with pleading eyes. "Paul?"

Paul took a step back and held his hands up in defence. "Don't look at me. This is a decision for John. It's 'is house!"

John looked around at his friend's faces; Ringo's sad and desperate, Paul's concerned and expectant, and George's calm and slightly sympathetic. He sighed. "I guess we could give it a day or two..."

* * *

Devon was listening to the teachers debating around him. Jessie Baxter had run away, and they were deciding whether to keep quiet or not. Her Aunt had specifically said she didn't want to hear from them about Jessie for anything other than a matter of life or death. In the end, Mr Maxwell called the police and informed them of the missing child, but told them to keep it quiet. No newspapers, no TV.

Devon had to hold his tongue. He had to stop himself from telling them that it would be impossible to find Jessie. She was somewhere in the past or future. The only way to get her back would be when she herself made it back through time. In a way, he was a little glad that it was Jessie of all people to have nicked his guitar. He felt he could trust her with it.

"What am I gonna do, Doc?" He whispered to himself, looking out the window at the clear sky. Seeing as he didn't have any classes to teach until later that afternoon, he decided to do a bit of his own investigating. He slipped out of the staffroom and walked out of the school entirely.

Standing on the road, looking up at the music room window, he tried to put himself into the mind of Jessie. He imagined her dropping off of the ledge and standing in this very spot, alone in the dark, fearful, and looking for a place to clear her head. If he were a kid looking for a quiet place to play music, where would he go?

"The park." He whispered. It wasn't far from the school and was the perfect place to calm down. He walked briskly down the street till he reached the vast expanse of grass, trees, ponds, paths and benches. The first entrance he came to was blocked by a wide muddy puddle. He smiled as he saw dried dirty footprints on the other side, leading into the park. "Gotcha." He murmured, crouching to examine them. There weren't many people who could have walked through the park in bare feet since the rain the other night.

Devon followed the direction of the footprints slowly along the path, till he spied a few indentations pressed into the soft earth, heading up off the track to a bench by some trees. As he approached, he saw something small and bright sitting on the wooden seat. A guitar pick.

"So, you were here, Jessie." He said to himself, pocketing the pick. "But where, and when are you now?"