If I Fell

~69~

Re-awaken -3rd person POV

Paul paced, then sat shuffling through his messages from the office in London, then paced again, wearing the proverbial hole in the carpet.

She was late, it was now noon, the ticking of the clock harassed his senses, a reminder of the slipping sands, a reminder that he would leave Australia in around thirty hours' time, not a second more.

It had been so long, so much time passed the both of them by, but they were still connected with some sort of invisible thread.

Just like he was with Ringo and George, even John, although other worldly, with John now being gone. A link to what was, a link to each other somehow unbroken, a link to the heady days of mayhem- Beatlemania and before, simpler times, innocent days.

"Look who I found"

Stella stepped through the unlocked door arm in arm with a woman she barely knew, but at the same time felt comfort that, that same woman made her dad spark and come alive again.

A spark of life cutting through the sadness that surrounded his person.
Sure, he entertained thousands at gigs but as soon as he left the stage the hollowness of loss took over, an almost robotic like functioning in his daily life.

"Hi! Sorry, I slept in. I'm definitely not used to having all-nighters!" Abigail let out a breath, a relaxation in the nerves that ate away at her since the moment she woke, although the meaning of woke assumed that she must have been asleep prior. She wasn't rested, her mind replayed the nights events and those of almost thirty years previous, in those early hours instead.

Hailey and Stella quickly vacated to an adjoining room, the soft sound of the connecting door gently closing woke a revere in him for his daughter- wise beyond her years.

As Abigail hovered by the door as if to flee some hidden danger, Paul stood unmoved at his spot by the desk. The two of them feared everything could be too far away.

That it was too far away to recapture.

So they floundered, lost to each other, the hotel suite disappeared and space stretched and gulfed between them, although in reality it was but a few measly feet.

Her hand felt behind her for the cold steel of the door knob, grasping it like a life raft. She begun clenching and unclenching the handle, hoping the steel would absorb her shaking body's jitters.

Paul she sighed internally. Was here.

A gust of wind blew, the curtains swayed and lept wildly about, the breeze was warm and, as it swept through the hotel room,... 

Every piece of paper, business and pleasure, seemed to be tossed up and spun, then settled on the floor between them.

Abigail rushed forward, the cleaner in her appearing without question. Gathering, piling and moving ever closer to Paul as he gather the documents to his chest from his side of the room. His hand snatched up the last piece and he finally spoke.

"Beat 'cha!" the cheeky grin froze on his face as he realised just how close she was, their foreheads almost touching, another type of magic energy entered the room and rose quickly to swirl around them.

She kissed him, in an almost 'seize the moment' kind of way. Paul was addled, bemused by Abigail's forwardness but quickly relaxed and enjoyed.

Abigail stunned herself, she hadn't kissed anyone like this in years but this was Paul and it seemed nothing went to plan when Paul was around.

It was natural.

It was them.

Years peeled away and the night in Paris loomed and the smattering of special moments at Cavendish Road that were denied air, remembered.