Authors Note (please read): Lately I have been interested in reading Beatle fanfiction and one has been bothering me constantly. It does wrap around an OC. I'm going to try and make this fanfic as realistic as possible. Meaning, she sounds real. I might not go historically by dates but I'll try to get in many important things. I think the only wife I'll really include is Cynthia maybe Pattie…I really don't know! The first few chapters start roughly a year after. I tried to start it from when they did find her but everything came out disappointing. D; so, please enjoy! Review. ;D
I'm really just writing this for myself but if you guys like it…YAYY! Haha
DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Beatles. This story is for pure fun and interest. I mean no harm in writing this.
"I'm your father," he says, twisting and fiddling with his wedding band. My eyes fix on the gold band and I nod slightly in a trance; everything being quite blurry.
"Yeah," I breathe. My body ghostly got up and sat next to him. He was nearly but only ten years older than I. Words dangled in my throat and the world around me is nothing but fuzziness and confusion. "What now?" Is the only thing I can force out and hearing them were like biting into something bitter.
Many people go through these situations and all are happy. They celebrate with joy and cry tears. We, him and I, we just sit there dazed by everything around us.
"How does your name sound now?" I weakly smile before saying it for the first time out loud; the person that had said it before now was the old judge.
"Alexandra Lennon," I say, unsure. We both stare at the blank white wall. It isn't interesting one bit but to us, we stare at it as if it was booming the rainbow. "What do you think?"
"Lovely," he says, looking at me. I can see his eyes studying me from the corner of my own. "Alexandra John Lennon."
"John?" I ask as more spiteful than I'd hope for. I face him and we lock eyes. He took my small, soft hands in his much larger callused ones. His face was soft but I could see through that small smirk and friendly eyes. He was just as worried as me.
When a woman gets pregnant, they have a whole nine months to prepare. When a married couple wants to adopt, they have years to prepare if they want. John and I, we're different. He sort of just told me two days ago and I asked when he decided that, his response was a shrugged shoulder.
It really did surprise me because it was Paul. Paul was the one that decided a girl my age of fifteen; fourteen then, shouldn't be sleeping on a bench. Especially a bench outside a pub. The only reason why I chose there was because it was warm. Every time the door opened, I'd get a wind of warm air. Also, the bar tender always gave me old newspapers.
It was the eighth time they've came to pub and George was convinced I was stalking them. Paul smiled at me and asked me if I was. I shook my head and looked down at my feet. He reached in his pocket and gave me money. It wasn't much but it was something. I think I bought a new pair of socks with it.
It was a few times after that, that Paul brought me to his place. I didn't want to go. All I did was scream. I was scared; four men dragging you away. I think I even punched George in the butt. He was carrying me. It didn't faze him, though. I don't remember much about that night after that, mostly because Ringo accidently slammed my head while closing the car door.
The next morning was different. Paul made me feel safe and said he'll let me stay a week. I didn't talk much at all. My time was spent sitting in the guest room holding my knees and rocking back and forth.
It was also Paul that pointed out a very good point. If they sent me back on my way outside, they'll be putting me back into my problem.
If anyone were to adopt me, I would think it to be Paul. John was very random about it. I've visited him many times but weirdly, I always went back to Paul's.
"I'll try my best," he says, his warm hand caressing my cheek. "But you have to try for me, too." The heart beneath my chest can't help but to pound in a harsh way. I can't help but to squeeze his hand in mine. "Cynthia says you can have the room across from Julian's."
I remember her also saying she was going to paint it pink with a white trim but I thought she was talking about my room in Paul's place. It all makes sense now. Pink was never my favorite color. I'd always prefer reds and greens but Cynthia's so sweet to me. I could never tell her. I wouldn't put a burden on her or John; they're giving me an official home and I shouldn't be anything but a person filled with glee. I should never be spiteful.
"Do I call you dad?" I ask, swallowing hard against my dry throat. He simply shrugs.
"Only when you're ready," he whispers.
"I love you," I say, unsure of the words I'm speaking. He looks at me and his eyes, they haven't changed once. It's the same look. A smile spreads across my face and I fall into his chest. He cradles me; chest banging against my ear like a drum.
"You're lying," he states.
"I don't want to be," I say to convince John. He rubs my back in silence. I swallow my tongue and start to feel my throat close. All of the sudden, I'm mentally gasping for air. "Shouldn't I say that?"
"Only when you're ready."