A/N: Oh my goodness, it has been sooo long. I finally finished my Christmas chapters for my other stories, so I'm back! With the twenty-third chapter of Lost and Found... dear Lord, this is going to be one doozy of a story when I'm done. Much angst in this chapter, alert! Alert!

Emily's POV

A beam of sunlight splashed across my face, rousing me from my sleep. I was tucked up against George and suddenly became aware of the fact that we were both quite naked. Memories of the night before flooded my brain and I allowed them to replay.


George's face hovered over mine, his nose just barely touching my own. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed and lips just a little kiss swollen. In short, he looked wonderful. I reached up and ran a hand through his hair, my tongue snaking into his mouth. My other hand came up and entangled in his hair as well.

Panting slightly for breath, we pulled apart and I found myself drowning in his eyes. They were focused directly on me and his pupils were so dilated that his irises were lost in the all-encompassing black. "I love you," he whispered, kissing his way across my jaw. I arched into his touch, pulling his head down so our foreheads touched.

"I love you too, Geo," I breathed, kissing the tip of his nose.

Things progressively got more heated. Limbs entangled, hands touched, and breathing hitched. My hands slipped beneath his shirt, my fingers splaying against the warmth of his chest. He drew in a small breath between fevered kisses. His fingertips brushed the hem of my dress and stopped short.

"Why'd you stop?" I asked, pulling back enough to be able to focus on his face.

"Are ya sure you want this?" he asked, running a rough, calloused thumb across my cheek. "I don't want to 'urt ya."

I pressed a smoldering kiss to his lips and slid my hands across his chest slowly. Breaking it off and noting that his pulse was through the roof, I inquired, "Does that answer yer question?"

-End Flashback-

My replaying of last night were interrupted when George began to stir. I tried to roll over to look at him, but his arms tightened around my waist firmly. "Don' move," he mumbled sleepily. "'M comfy." I laughed, feeling him press his face between my bare shoulder blades. His eyelashes fluttered against my skin.

"Okay, fine. You win," I giggled, snuggling up to him. We stayed that way for a long time and I almost fell asleep again to the steady sound of his breathing.

Finally, he relinquished his hold on me and I rolled over to face him. "G'mornin', beautiful," he said, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I smiled, kissing his lips softly.

"Mornin', love," I said.

"Hungry?" he asked, getting out of bed. I was treated to a sudden front row view of his backside and turned away to give him some privacy, my cheeks burning red.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, sitting up and covering my chest with the sheet. I waited until he was done calling room service to call, "George? Could ya toss me some clothes?" He, dressed in a pair of boxers and nothing else, poked his head around the corner with a grin.

"They're right there," he said, pointing to my suitcase.

"Come on, George. Please?" I whined.

He smirked. "Luv, it's nothing I haven't seen before if that's what yer nervous about."

I felt my cheeks turn pink. "You are so mean, George Harold Harrison!" I exclaimed. "Turn yer head, at least."

"Yer no fun, y'know?" George pouted, turning away. I dashed out of bed and threw a robe around my shoulders quickly.

We sat down together on the couch and flicked on the radio. Surprisingly, it wasn't a Beatles song that came on, but a Blessed Day one. "'Ey, I like this one!" George exclaimed, knowing it was one I had written most of.

"Really?" I asked, snuggling into him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. When room service came, he tossed on a robe and came back to sit down. He had a magazine in his hand along with the food. He had ordered my favorite breakfast, scrambled eggs with salsa and toast. He didn't like the salsa part, so he substituted it on his own order with bacon.

"Complimentary magazine from the staff," George explained, putting it on the coffee table. I recognized the cover photograph immediately, mostly because it was the one from our photo shoot where we were kissing. Emblazoned across our faces was, "Of Life and Love; Music's Hottest Couple Opens Up."

I opened it up to the interview and began to read with George leaning over my shoulder.

"George Harrison and Emily Scott are a truly lovely couple. It's rare that you see them let go of each other's hands and the looks they share are full of laughter and love. They are also a joy to speak with, which is why I'm glad they agreed to sit down to an interview with me."

"Nice bloke, that Mr. Silver," George commented, tracing his fingers up and down my arm. I twisted to look at him in amusement.

"Changed yer mind, 'ave ya?" I joked.

The article proceeded with the interview and I laughed at some of our funnier answers. Some of them were funny, some were sweet, and one of George's answers made me get a bit of a lump in my throat.

Q: What do you love most about Emily?

A [George]: (laughs) Now you're digging deep. A lot of people might say her eyes, or her smile, or something like that, but I'm not going to. I mean, I do love those things about her, don't get me wrong, but they're not my favorite things. (shakes his head with a chuckle) This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I had this all written out on a nice little note card, but it went through the wash this morning. I think my favorite thing about her is the way she looks at me. We've often gotten a bit of flack from our friends for having silent conversations.

Q: What do you mean by that?

A [George]: Y'know, talking with your eyes.

Q: With your eyes?

A [George]: yeah, it's right useful sometimes. (laughs)

I laid a finger on the quote on the page and kissed his cheek. "I'm framing that," I told him teasingly. "Gonna put it in the bedroom of our new 'ouse."

George flopped around dramatically. "No, don't! Me soft side is so carefully hidden."

"An' that's why it's in a magazine all over London," I quipped.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoO

Later in the month, George and I moved into our new house. It was a little bungalow with the name of Kinfauns and I loved it. We spent our sparse free time decorating it and painting.

The rest of our time was spent with our respective bands, either touring or songwriting in the , it hardly felt like work.

"Studio day today, gotta go George," I said, dashing into the kitchen and gulping down my breakfast. He wandered in after me with a yawn, ruffling up the front of his hair.

"Alright," he managed to say through another yawn. "Love ya,"

I dropped a kiss onto the top of his head as I flew past. "Love you, too," I called, getting into the car and driving away.

When I got to the studio, Aaron was just getting there as well. His light brown hair was all mussed in the back, signifying that he'd pretty much leapt out of bed, kissed his his daughters and his wife goodbye, and come straight to the studio. He looked like he was about to explode with good news.

"Hi," I said, hugging him tightly. "What's got you smilin'?"

"Song idea," he said, trotting into the building. "Wrote it last night. I was sittin' at the piano and all of a sudden, these ideas kept poppin' into me 'ead."

"Did we hear song idea?" The Ben and Michael simultaneously popped around the doorway. I rolled my eyes and hugged them both.

"What are you two doin' here?" I asked.

"Cant we look in on one of the many, numerous bands we manage one in awhile?" Michael asked innocently.

"Numerous meaning jut the one, right?" I flicked his arm.

"You've wounded me, madam," he pouted theatrically. "But seriously, we just wanted to sit in on a session. We've got nothin' else to do today."I loved having my brothers around as our managers. They loved to be silly like no one else and were notorious for playing pranks on anyone and everyone they could, but they could run a business efficiently and well.

"Okay Aaron, let's hear it." Sarah commanded, plunking herself down in a seat and looking up at him expectantly. Maggie, Lucy, and I followed suit with Fergus leaning over our shoulders.

"You really know how to make a bloke nervous," he chuckled, sitting down at the piano and beginning to play. Slowly, everyone went into a state of shock.

The day starts

The day ends

Time crawls by

Night steals in pacing the floor

The moments creep

Yet I can't bear to sleep

'Til I hear you sing

And weeks pass

And months pass

Seasons fly

Still you don't walk through the door

And in a haze

I count the silent days

'Til I hear you sing once more

And sometimes at night time

I dream that you are there

But wake holding nothing

But the empty air

And years come

And years go

Time runs dry

Still I ache down to the core

My broken soul

Can't be alive and whole

'Til I hear you sing once more

And music, your music

It teases at my ear

I turn and it fades away

And you're not here

Let hopes pass

Let dreams pass

Let them die

Without you, what are they for?

I'll always feel

No more than halfway real

'Til I hear you sing once more

The room was dead silent when he finished. No one moved and I think my mouth may have been slightly open in shock. We'd known that Aaron had a good voice, but we hadn't known it was this good. The emotion in his voice was perfect and the song felt very real.

"Well?" he asked, looking self-conscious. "Was it any good or was it just utter rubbish? Because I can change—" Sarah interrupted him.

"Don't you dare change anything about that song, Aaron Michaelson," she instructed sternly. "That's best bloody song any of us have ever written."

He looked quite surprised for a moment, but then broke out into a huge grin. "You think so?" he asked sheepishly.

"Of course, it's great!" Maggie said with a smile. "What inspired it?"

"I dunno, really," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "It just sorta happened, y'know?"

"I just wish you could put it in yer set for the gig this Saturday," Michael commented. "It would put ya in the headlines fer sure."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This Saturday? It must have completely slipped my mind, because George and I had scheduled a night in with movies and a simple dinner. It would be impossible to reschedule the gig, so we'd have to pick a new day for the date. I knew it would make him both sad and a bit mad, so I decided that I would put off telling him for as long as I could. Saturday morning would work, I thought.

As it turned out, Saturday morning had other plans for me.

I woke up feeling strange. George was still dead to the world beside me. My stomach roiled and heaved in nauseating circles. Was I going to be sick? My body decided that for me as I sprinted to the bathroom, trying not to throw up all over our new rugs. I just barely made it to the toilet before the contents of my stomach made their grand appearance. Yep, definitely going to be sick.

I hunched over the toilet miserably, dry heaving as my stomach continued to spasm, bringing up nothing. Frantic bare feet came padding into the bathroom.

"Luv, are ya okay?" George asked in a panicked way, crouching down next to me and rubbing my back gently.

"Just gear," I rasped, my throat raw. "I"m lovely, how are you? My comment was interrupted by a fresh wave of retching. When I finished, I slumped against George. "Must've been the fish last night, I thought it had gone a bit funny," I muttered, my mouth tasting terrible.

"I'll get ya some mouthwash and water," he said, carefully getting up.

"Thanks, luv," I said, leaning against the wall gingerly. He handed me a bottle of mouthwash and a glass of water. I gulped the water quickly and got up to rinse my mouth over the sink. George kept a close hold on me to make sure I wouldn't fall over. This would've been nice, until he insisted on leading me around everywhere.

"George, I can walk, y'know," I said irritably, trying to pry his hands off me.

"I just don't want ya to 'urt yerself," he tried to explain himself. I fixed him with a look.

"So you think I'm a danger to meself?" I inquired, my eyebrows on the rise."

"Well, you did just puke yer guts up a few minutes ago," he retorted.

"Yeah, but would you please stop actin' like I'm made of glass? I'm not going to break, George," I stated, rolling my eyes. "In case you missed the memo, yer not my mother."

"No because I'm not dead—" My eyes popped open wide. Had he really just said that? A deep pain arced through my chest and I took a step back. "Oh Christ, I didn't—" he exclaimed quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. You just stated a fact. Yer right, my mum is dead. Thank you fer reminding me." I brushed past him pulled some clothes from my side of the closet, and shut myself in the bathroom, ignoring his calls after me.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I pulled myself together and started to get ready. I wore a soft green dress with a pleated skirt, white pumps, and my necklace that George had given me for my birthday. Even when I was angry with him, I couldn't bring myself not to wear it. I brushed my teeth and stepped out the door, intending to grab a muffin that I had baked last night. George wasn't downstairs. I assumed he was in his studio.

Pausing, I scribbled down a note for George. I felt terrible, but I didn't have time to make it right in person or drop the bomb about our canceled date.

George ~ I'm really sorry about this morning. I guess we were both feeling a bit edgy. But what I'm even more sorry about is what I'm going to say next. It totally slipped my mind that I have a gig in Manchester tonight, which is the night we planned for our date. I won't be home and I feel awful.I want to reschedule, though. I'll call you tonight when we get there. I love you even when we fight. ~Emily.

I set it on his breakfast plate and left, feeling horrible. At the studio, we packed up our equipment and got in our ginormous van. "Next stop, Manchester," Sarah called from her seat, strumming her bass.

"Em, what's wrong?" Maggie asked as I halfheartedly plucked at the strings of my new electric guitar. It wasn't a nice one, but it was a necessity now.

"Huh?" I looked up. "Oh, nothin'. I'm just a bit distracted." Maggie gave me her famous 'stop lying' look.

"I know you, and whenever you look like that it's because you fought with George," she said, patting my hand sympathetically. "What 'appened?"

I huffed out a sigh. "A whole bunch of little stuff that blew up into more than it should have," I mumbled. "It didn't even make any sense, Mags. An' I don't really wanna repeat most of it, but I had to cancel our special night in because of this gig."

"You know what I think?" Sarah interjected. "I think we need to play some music an' just unwind." For the rest of the ride, we just doodled around on our instruments and chatted.

George's POV

About an hour after our fight, I wandered downstairs in search of breakfast. "Emily?" I called. No response. I entered the kitchen and saw a note on the plate at my seat at the table. My heart sank.

Picking it up, I opened it and began to read, feeling more and more sad and irate the further I read. Not only had we just had a fight over nearly nothing at all, now our date was canceled and I was going to be home alone. All night. With a combination of a groan and a growl, I snatched some cold food from the fridge back up to my studio. What a fantastic day this was turning out to be.

Later in the day, the phone rang. I reluctantly hauled myself off the couch and grabbed it with the tips of my fingers. "Hullo?" I mumbled into the receiver, messing up the back of my hair.

"Geo?" John's voice inquired through the phone. "No offense, mate, but you sound like 'ell."

I sighed loudly, flopping back into my chair. "Figure I got a right to, today anyway," I said snippily.

"Care to explain?" John asked in annoyance. He had little patience for sulking of any sort. Unless of course, it was his own. "Because I can't tell if yer heartbroken, hungover, or just sick. The three are closely related, y'know."

Normally I would find it funny, but nothing was funny today. "Sod off, will ya? Em an' I had a fight an' she's got a gig tonight, which is the night we've been planning as a night in," I muttered, stretching out in the chair and staring at my mismatched socks.

"Oi, that's rough," he commiserated. "I haven't got anything goin' tonight, fancy goin' to a pub or something? You could probably use a pick me up."

I didn't even stop to think before responding with yes. I wanted to get drunk enough to forget I had had a fight with my girl.

That night, I met John at a dingy little pub in downtown London. It was very much off the radar, which was why we went. Being a Beatle had its perks, since they gave us free drinks and two rooms upstairs to use as we saw fit. In other words, it was a recipe for disaster.

"Didn't I tell ya, Georgie?" John slurred sometime later, throwing his arm that wasn't otherwise occupied with a girl sloppily over my shoulder. He smelled like he was well on his way to consuming half of the alcohol currently in stock. "Jus' what ya needed."

I blinked fuzzily and grinned. I had possibly had just a bit too much a well, or way more than too much, I couldn't remember. "Yup," I bobbed my head up and down. Soon, a smooth, cool hand snaked its way up my arm. I tried to make my alcohol inhibited eyes focus. They found themselves staring at a beautiful, voluptuous girl smiling lazily at me.

"Hi," she purred seductively, straddling my lap and linking her arms around my neck. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"Hi," I said, deciding my common sense could go take a flying leap at that point. Kissing her full, pink lips, I mumbled, "Wanna go upstairs?" Grabbing my hand, she led my stumbling self up the stairs.

Emily's POV

We finished our second to last song and I smiled widely at the cheering audience. Their reception had been amazing, much politer than the audience last week who had nearly abducted our drummer in a surge onto the stage. "Thank you," Sarah said into her microphone. "Yer all fab listeners. I'm sorry to say this is our last song tonight. We'll leave ya with our best known song, Move. God bless!"

I'm not about to give up

Because I heard you say

There's gonna be brighter days

There's gonna be brighter days

I won't stop, I'll keep my head up

No, I'm not here to stay

There's gonna be brighter days

There's gonna be brighter days

I just might bend but I won't break

As long as I can see your face

When life won't play along

And right keeps going wrong

And I can't seem to find my way

I know where I am found

So I won't let it drag me down

Oh, I'll keep dancing anyway

I'm gonna move (move)

I'm gonna move (move)

I'm gonna move

I've got to hold it steady

Keep my head in the game

Everything is about to change

Everything is about to change

This hurt is getting heavy

But I'm not about to cave

Everything's about to change

There's gonna be brighter days

I just might bend but won't break

As long as I can see your face

When life won't play along

And right keeps going wrong

And I can't seem to find my way

I know where I am found

So I won't let it drag me down

Oh, I'll keep dancing anyway

No matter what may come

Gotta move to a different drum

No matter what life brings

Gotta move gotta move to a different beat

No matter what may come

Gotta move to a different drum

No matter what life brings

Gotta move gotta move to a different beat

I just might bend but won't break

As long as I can see your face

When life won't play along

And right keeps going wrong

And I can't seem to find my way

I know where I am found

So I won't let it drag me down

Oh, I'll keep dancing anyway

When life won't play along

And right keeps going wrong

And I can't seem to find my way

I know where I am found

So I won't let it drag me down

Oh, I'll keep dancing anyway

No matter what may come

Gotta move to a different drum

No matter what life brings

Gotta move gotta move to a different beat

We ran off the stage to thunderous applause. When we got back to the hotel, I dove for the phone. My stomach had been swimming with butterflies all night. Quickly, I dialed our home number and waited, my heart sinking further and further with each ring. He wasn't going to answer. When I got the answering machine I wanted to sit down and cry. Instead, I left a message pleading him to call me at the hotel in the morning and hung up.

Sleeping was not an easy thing. I flopped around in the bed and eventually moved to the couch so I wouldn't bother Sarah so much. The next morning, I could hardly wait until we got into the van. I was practically bouncing off the walls the entire ride home. More than once I was asked to kindly calm the hell down. But I couldn't, my knees kept bouncing and I put my hands on them to keep them somewhat still.

I packed my things up as quickly as I could and hopped in my car, trying not to speed to Kinfauns. George, I'm so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. But when I got there, it was empty.

"George?" I called, checking all the rooms in the house frantically. He wasn't there. Picking up the phone, I dialed John. When he picked up, he sounded like he'd had way, way too much to drink last night. "Whaddayawant?" he groaned into the phone.

"Good morning to you too, John," I rolled my eyes. "George isn't home and I'm just a bit worried. "Do you know where he is?"

"Um, try that little bar that we go to when we want to go without weird disguises," he said slowly as though trying to avoid giving himself a worse headache.

"Thanks, John," I said gratefully. He suddenly seemed to remember something, but I was already hanging up.

"Wait, Em, he's—" I nearly dialed him back, but decided against it at the last minute. Whatever it was couldn't have been too important if he hadn't remembered it at first. Little did I know that it was just a bit more significant than I thought.

When I got there, I asked the barmaid which room George Harrison was staying in. She recognized me as his girlfriend and pointed me in the direction of his room. For some reason, she looked at me with a strange mixture of warning and pity in her eyes. Why could that be?

When I got there, the door was slightly ajar so I let myself in. My eyes quickly widened to the size of saucers and I dropped my purse to the ground at the sight that was burned into my retinas.

George was laying in bed, totally asleep, his arms around some blonde girl that I'd never seen before. And their clothes were scattered wildly across the room. "What?" I gasped.

A/N: Bum, bum, BUUUUUUUUMMMM! I'll try to post the next one ASAP, I promise. :)