Break Me One More Time [McLennon]

in which george has a nervous breakdown

Upon arriving back in Paul and John's home in the countryside of England, George ran to the restroom. He bent over the toilet and promptly threw up.

"Leverage" is what Olivia had called holding George in the same room as Paul, making sure he listened to everything that had been said, making sure that the secret that Paul had guarded so carefully for eight long years was not a secret anymore. "Just think about what I've said, Paul, and think about it very carefully," Olivia had said to him before sending Paul and George back to 1969.

"George," Paul sighed, "it's gonna be okay..." He knelt down at his friend's side and held his long hair out of his face while he threw up.

George turned to look at Paul with tears in his eyes and bile on his lips. "Wh-what — just — happened?"

"I, um," Paul began, but he didn't know what to say. "George, you should get some sleep. Come here."

"How could I sleep right now?" George asked, breath growing heavy. "How — Paul — what just happened?"

"George, just, calm down," Paul said gently. "I need you to just try — okay, try to stay calm, please —" he got to his feet, trying to soothe George as he began to cry. "George? Okay, Georgie, you're gonna be okay." He took a face cloth, he wet it under the faucet, and knelt back down. He cleaned off George's mouth, speaking softly: "It's okay, you're okay... I'm here..."

George buried his fact against Paul's chest and sobbed into his shirt. Paul held him tightly, rocking him back and forth just slightly, whispering soothing words into his ear. At long last, when George's breaths began to even out, George lifted his head from Paul's chest and looked into his face. "Paul," he said shaily, "what's going on?"

"You're gonna get some sleep and we'll talk about it some other time," Paul said.

"Paul, I can't sleep," George said, shaking his head. "I need to know."

"George, you're obviously very sick," Paul said. "You're throwing up and —"

"Paul." George's eyes were pleading.

"Oh," Paul sighed. "Come with me," he said as he got up onto his feet. He helped George up off of the floor. He lead him to the living room and told him to wait there, told him that he would be right back.

Paul went to the kitchen and prepared two cups of tea and got George a glass of water as well, then returned to the living room. He set the drinks down on the coffee table.

George was curled up in a chair, the blanket he'd been sleeping under earlier wrapped around him, and he looked... so small. He looked rather like a frightened child and Paul's heart broke for him. George was gazing at the clock that was mounted over the fireplace. "Paul?" he said in a small voice.

"Yeah, Georgie?" Paul said, settling down onto the sofa.

"We've only been gone for, like, ten minutes," George said, slowly raising his hand to point at the clock that told them it was only barely twenty minutes past three in the morning. "Paul, what's going on? I'm scared."

"I know, Georgie," Paul said. "I'm — I'm gonna explain everything. Just... give me a second. I need to figure out where to start."

"That — that lady," George said. "She was talking about time and... and pulling you out of time. She said you came from 2015 and — and you agreed — and that's not — it isn't — time travel, it sounds like time travel and that's — that's ridiculous, right? That's not real, is it?"

"George, I need you to just... listen to me, okay?" Paul sighed. "I've lived a long life... A good life..."

"Time travel is only on the television, Paul," George said and he looked like he may just lose his mind over all of the new information just bursting out of him from every pore. "Time travel isn't real — it isn't real — it can't be real."