Only one review? :( Thanks for it anyway, Leah Holmes! :D

Sad Beatle stuff in this chapter. :S

Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize.

Getting Better

Chapter Fourteen: Times Like These

I walk into the studio in a flat mood. I've been looking forward to recording less and less these days. Things have changed. With Jillian as my newfound inspiration, I've been in a creative mood and churning out song after song, but John's been going through a dry spell and lately, I feel like every time I present a new song, none of my band mates look at it as something new for the band to do, but as another of Paul's songs. John, being John, blows his top as often as he likes, which is more often than usual now; but that's expected of John. He barely pays attention to us in the studio, instead he's busy canoodling with Yoko or singing to her or discussing our songs with her. He never appreciates my work, only criticizes it; where is that bond we used to have, where we used to sit together, just us, and write songs that blew the world? Alright, I'll admit I haven't been the nicest to him - I can't help it if he thinks I don't like Yoko, because I don't. Any suggestion I make for a song he's written makes him think I'm trying to ruin it. Why on earth would I ruin his song?

It's not just John anymore. George, too, seems to have developed a deep dislike for me. If I ask him not to solo quite so much on a song, does that make me bossy and dominating? Just because I've written the most songs on this album, it doesn't mean I'm a selfish bastard trying to take over the band. George is quiet, but he's not a pushover, and more and more he's beginning to resent that John and I haven't always paid his songs as much attention as perhaps we should have. But we never looked at the songs as George's songs and John's songs and Paul's songs - we only tried to do what was best for the band.

And that's what I'm trying to do now. It's just that sometimes, it seems like I'm the only one who cares.

I press my face to the window of the cab as it turns up that familiar street. The leaves have begun to fall, but not fully. There's that house with the blue-shingled roof where grouchy old Mrs. Wicker used to live. Is she even still alive? And there's the house where Jim, my childhood crush, used to live. And there's the house where my best friend Cindy lived. And now here's my house. That tree in the corner of the garden. The wisteria vine tangling with the bougainvillea along the fence. Our old green car; a shiny blue one that's new. Mum's tulips and sunflowers bobbing their heads up to the sun. The cab stops, but I sit frozen on the seat. Paul reaches across and squeezes my hand. 'Come on, babe,' he says. 'No matter what happens in there, I'll be there for you.' I smile weakly at him and get out of the car.

I walk up the driveway holding Paul's hand so tight that he's pressing his lips together to keep from making a sound of protest, and lift the latch of the gate - it makes that same sound, the one that sounds like a startled squeak. At the doorstep, I stare at the doorbell for a long time. I never bothered with the doorbell when I lived here - I just walked around the house to the back. I glance at Paul for help. He reaches out to press the doorbell. 'Don't,' I whisper. He presses it anyway.

There's footsteps, then the door opens. It's Emily. Her jaw drops and I take in how much she's grown, her face has lost all of its childhood chubbiness, her long blonde hair done up in a bun. In a bun. From the moment she was old enough to speak, Emily had been adamant that she only ever wanted her hair in two plaits on the sides of her head. The fact that her hair is not done in two plaits, reminds me just how long I've been gone. I have only a second to stare at her before she squeals and flings herself at me. I'm pretty sure she's going to bowl me over but Paul puts a hand on the small of my back to steady us. When Emily finally lets go, she's beaming and I am too, and Lucy's just come down the steps to see what the commotion is.

She, too, looks older than ever. There's a new maturity in her eyes - a seriousness, from when her first boyfriend, Daniel, died in the war. I see a ring glimmering on her finger: she's engaged. She hurls herself at me too, and then both of them are looking at Paul with curious eyes, waiting for me to explain. 'Mum!' yells Lucy, 'Get over here, Jillian's here!'

'Jillian?' A female voice calls from the other room, and then my mother is standing there. I have only a moment to glimpse her ever-paling blonde hair, gradually aging face and blue eyes before she emits a kind of strangled squeak and crushes me in her arms. 'Mum,' I gasp, unable to breathe, but she doesn't let go. When she does, she just looks at me. 'Jill, why did you leave?'

And then the door opens again behind me, a man I recognize as my father walks past Paul to face me and says, 'I think we'd all like the answer to that question.'

I realised that I made a few botch-ups in the last chapter. To clarify everything, they are all in London right now. I accidentally wrote that Emily had red curls in the last chapter, but I changed it (according to the Across the Universe characters) and she actually has long blonde hair. I know I'm a horrible person for not updating regularly, but it would make me super happy if you reviewed after reading this :) Also, it's my birthday, so it could be like a birthday gift. :D Thanks for reading! -Jen.