I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 6

"George, I don't have a clue which hospital it is!" Ringo bemoaned, grabbing George's arm like a worried grandma.

"It's a good thing I pay attention to things or we'd be in deep trouble," George replied with a roll of his eyes as he leaned towards the driver. "St. Mary's Hospital, please."

"As you wish, sir," the driver, who had a distinct Northern accent, said.

"I'm so glad you remembered the name, Hazza. That could have been bad," Ringo sighed as he looked out the window to see passing buildings and a grey sky.

"Me too. Now let's just pray that Paul is alright and that John isn't losing his mind," the lead guitarist breathed as he lit a cigarette.

"Yes, let's pray so."

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"Please be okay, Macca. I don't know what I'd do without you. Heck, I don't know what the world would do without you. So, please, don't be hurt too bad. Just open your eyes and fuss about your bass being out of tune. Will ya do that for an old friend?" John 'told' Paul as he held his calloused hand.

He would have already broken down and told Paul all of his wild and raging thoughts, but he couldn't because one of the paramedics was sitting on the other side of the bassist, monitoring his vital signs and such. If he hadn't been there, John would have actually told Paul all of everything he wanted to say, but, instead, he stayed with his telepathy method.

"His breathing is very shallow."

"What?" John asked, startled as he jumped out of his thoughts.

"His breathing, it's a bit shallow. I'll need to give him some oxygen," the paramedic, who had previously introduced himself as Harry, said as he pulled an oxygen mask out of a small, overhead compartment.

After taking it out of its packaging, Harry slipped it onto Paul's slack face, John watching apprehensively on the other side of his songwriting partner.

"Is he okay?" John demanded, his eyes darting frenetically from Harry to Paul, the latter of which being quite pale, which made him seem much younger than his 22 years.

"Yes, yes. He's just..."

"What? What is he!" Lennon scoffed, looking as if he was in between shooting someone and crying.

Surprisingly enough, Harry didn't respond, which made John even angrier. He just sat there, looking down with wide eyes at something.

"Well, speak up!" John pressed.

"He's regaining consciousness," Harry stated softly as he motioned for John to look at Paul, who was stirring ever so slightly.

His long eyelashes were just beginning to flutter and his breathing was speeding up just a bit. After emitting a soft, painful moan, the young lad opened his big eyes.

"Mates?" was the first, muffled thing that came out of his mouth.

"Paul!" John cried happily. "Are you okay?"

"John," Paul breathed as he squinted his eyes up at John. "Where are we?" he then added with a slight slur through the oxygen mask.

"We're on the ambulance we were telling you about," he explained, instantly regretting doing so, for he remembered Paul's earlier outburst when he had been told about ambulances and doctors.

"Idiot," he reprimanded himself.

"Wha'?" Paul frowned as he unexpectedly bolted upright before glancing around, restlessly. (As well as he could, that is.)

"Relax, Mr. McCartney. You're going to hurt yourself," Harry soothed, even though he was quite surprised, as he put a hand to Paul's chest, effectively laying him back down.

"N-no!" Paul objected instantly, fighting against the paramedic, even though his body was disagreeing with all of the movement.

"Paul!" John started urgently, "you've got to stop! Just be still! He's not going to hurt you!"

"We didn't think the girls would hurt us either, John! Now look!" Paul argued breathlessly as he fought against Harry's strong hold on him.

"Yes, but, lad, you're in an ambulance, which is where you go to be safe and get better!" reasoned John.

"Well, I don't want to be in here! Let me out! Please!!" he screamed as he thrashed around, Harry almost losing his grip on him.

"Mr. McCartney, please, if you don't stop I'll be forced to use restraints!" the paramedic chided him.

"Please, Paul, please stop!" John tried again, wholeheartedly.

Thankfully, the bassist did stop his thrashing after he heard the urgency in his mate's voice. If it hadn't been for John being there, he probably would have fought until he could fight no more.

Relaxing against the small pillow, Paul looked at John and muttered something that was inaudible at first.

"What was that, Paulie?" John whispered back as he bent down closer to Paul.

"I wish Mum were here."

"Aww, Macca, I'm so sorry," John replied with a furrowed brow as he patted Paul's wrist.

"Not your fault, Lenny," Paul replied with a weak smile, his eyes quite droopy.

Smiling at Paul's remark...and the fact that Paul looked like he had just rolled out of bed, John let out a slight chuckle.

"Sleepy, Macca?" he asked him while giving Harry an amused grin.

"No, right as rain, thank you," Paul replied as he stifled a yawn, and a groan of misery.

"I bet you are," the rhythm guitarist winked, although, deep down, he was still very worried.

"Only a few more minutes before we reach the hospital, sirs," Harry explained as he got his things together.

John instantly noticed the nervousness that arrived on Paul's face when Harry had made his comment and he frowned sympathetically.

"Please, Lord, let him be okay," John prayed as he glanced at Paul sympathetically. "Please."

Okay, so I lied about you finding out how Paul would be, but, next chapter it should happen! Again, so sorry that it's taking such a long time to develop into an actual story. I never in a million years thought it'd be chapter 6 and we'd still be at this point in the story. I hope it's not boring you too much! Thanks! :-)