"I was thinking that we might take a little trip next week," said John. "Mimi's been wanting t' see us, an' I thought a visit might be in order. We could stay a couple days with her an' then go up to see yer brother in Ireland; how would that be?"

"That sounds wonderful," Mary replied, "Only we'll have to make it after Tuesday. I have to take the children for their medical examinations Tuesday afternoon."

"I don't hafta get any shots, do I, Mummy?" George asked worriedly.

"Not that I know of," Mary told him, "But if it turns out that you do, I'll take you out to get ice cream afterwards."

"Won't you take us even if we don't need shots?" asked George with his best three-year old's imitation of his father's winning smile.

"You're more like your father every day," said Mary, scooping him up and giving him a kiss. "Yes, I'll take you in any case. Since when could I ever resist that smile?"

"Since never, and I'm glad enough o' that," John commented. He bent close to George's ear and whispered sotto voice, "Good job, lad, that skill will serve ye well later in life!"

"Mummy! Daddy! Come quick!" shouted Julia from the living room.

Alarmed, John and Mary hurried to her, their hearts in their throats.

"Jesus, what is it?" asked John. Nothing appeared to be wrong; Julia was seated on the carpet and her baby sister was sitting there beside her, looking perfectly content.

"Julia, honey, you almost gave your father and I heart attacks! What on earth possessed you to shout like that?" asked Mary, her hand on her breast.

"I wanted you to be able to see! Guess what Emily did?" Julia's blue eyes were sparkling and she bounced with excitment. "She walked! She was standing at the settee and she let go and walked right to me!"

"Zarrafact!" John said happily. "Wish I'd seen that!" He squatted down and addressed his youngest daughter. "Right, then, Miss Emily," he said encouragingly, "Let's see that again; come 'ead, ye did it once!"

***

"Julia and young George seem fine, Mrs. Lennon, but I am just a bit concerned about Emily...she's probably fine, but it's better to be on the safe side. Her test results should be back in a few days, and I'll contact you if I need to see her again." "What do you think the problem might be, Dr. Samuels? She seems fine to me...maybe a bit tired sometimes, but...should I be worried?"

"Oh, no, not at all. More than likely, she's fine, perhaps a touch of anemia. The tests are just a precaution. Try not to think about it, and try to have a pleasant trip. If you'll ring me when you get home, I'll let you know about those tests."

Mary looked out into the waiting room; Julia was holding her sister and George was looking at the pictures in a book of nursery rhymes.

"Dr. Samuels, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to my husband if he happens to call," she said softly. "He would be terribly upset, and I don't want to put him through needless worry, since you did say she is probably fine. He had an ulcer a few years back, and I wouldn't want it to recur. He gets so worried over the least little thing concerning the children or me, and--"

"Not to worry, Mrs. Lennon. If he should call, I'll just tell him that you were already here and that everything seemed fine."

***

"John! You're looking well, come, let me get a good look at you," said Mimi, giving her nephew an enthusiastic embrace. "Oh, and Mary, how are you, dear? Julia, and little George--so like your father! There's Emily; give her to me, Mary, dear."

She took the baby and Mary and the children followed her into the house, leaving John to wrestle with the luggage.

"There's th' last case," John said, setting it on the floor just inside the back door. He lifted little George and told him, "Ye gotta grow a bit faster an' get some more size to ye. Yer dad's gettin' on, an' I'd be glad o' yer help with such things."

"Oh, honestly, John, you're hardly old--you'll only be thirty seven this year," said Mimi. "Why, when I was as young as you are, I felt no different than I had in my twenties-- just wait till you're my age."

"Yeah, well, we'll see," John responded. "Maybe I'll get me second wind." He dropped into a chair and smacked the table with his hand. "Now," he said, "Where's me coffee, an' I'll have a piece o' that chocolate cake o' yours as well, Mimi!"

Mimi snorted. "You just watch how you speak to me, mister," she said. "You'll get that coffee in your lap." Her eyes sparkled, though, and she went to serve him at once.

***

"Has the baby been ill, dear?" asked Mimi later that evening. She was sitting in the living room with John and Mary after the older children had been put to bed. Mary was nursing Emily.

"No," John replied, "She hasn't. Why d'ye ask?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing," she answered. "It's just that I thought she seemed a little pale, that's all."

John leaned closer to Mary and peered anxiously into his daughter's face.

"She does look a little pale, Mary," he said. "Are ye sure she's all right? What'd th' doctor say yesterday?"

"He said that there was most likely nothing to worry about," she replied.

"Most likely? What does that mean? Did he say anything more?" asked John. His eyes narrowed and he examined the baby's face again. He was beginning to look and sound rather worried.

"He said she might be a little anemic," Mary told him. "He took a blood sample...he said he'd let me know when we got home, but that it was probably nothing."

"Oh," John said, sitting back. "Well, all right, then. But make sure ye call him as soon as we get back, wontcher, love?"

"I will," she promised. She was worried, but she didn't want to let John know. She smiled at him and said that she was sure that everything was fine, and he nodded and put an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder and thought that she would be a lot happier once she'd spoken to Doctor Samuels and she could put this nagging doubt out of her mind.

***

Once Mary got home, she called Dr. Samuels right away.

"I need to see you and Mr. Lennon in my office as soon as possible," he told her.

"Can you come right away?"

Mary clutched the edge of the table to steady herself. She felt dangerously close to passing out. "We'll be there within the hour," she said softly. It sounded to her as though her own voice was coming from very far away. She hung the phone up and stood there for a moment trying to collect her wits, then dialed Ringo's number to ask if the Julia and George could spend a few hours with his family. Once she had made arrangements, she took a deep breath and went to find John.

***

"Whattayer mean, 'leukemia'?" cried John. "Are ye tellin' me that me daughter's gonna die?"

"Try to calm down, Mr. Lennon," the doctor said gently. "I'm not saying that at all, although of course it is a possibility. There are new treatments available today, though, for those who are in a position to take advantage of them. Children are surviving leukemia in many cases these days."

"Don't fuckin' tell me t' calm down," John replied. His heart was racing, and he felt panicky and angry. "Ye just told me that our baby has summat wrong with her that people die of all the time. If ye want me t' calm down, ye'd better start explainin' about those 'new treatments' ye were talkin' about. What kind o' treatments, an' what does 'for those in a position t' take advantage of 'em' mean? Does that mean it's expensive? Cos money is no object. I have plenty o' that, an' none of it means a thing if I can't use it t' save Emily." He sat back and looked at the doctor expectantly. "Start talkin'," he said.

"About ten years ago, there was a new treatment introduced for leukemia patients," Dr. Samuels told him. "It's called a bone marrow transplant...have you ever heard of it?"

"I have," John replied, "An' I know that it doesn't always work."

"Well, no, but no treatment is perfect, and there are always risks, but this procedure has come a long way since then. It's well out of the experimental stage now, and we know a lot more about what to expect--"

"Just tell me one thing," John said in a voice that sounded a lot more calm and rational than he felt. "What're her chances?"

The doctor sighed, hesitated, and met John's eyes. "She has about a fifty-fifty chance of surviving," he said.

Mary gasped and John put his arms around her, then looked at the doctor again.

"She's gonna be one o' th' fifty who makes it," he said evenly. "Set up whatever ye have to an' tell us where t' be and when. What comes first?"

"We begin with two weeks of chemotherapy and radiation," the doctor replied, to eliminate the cancerous cells in her blood and prepare her for the procedure. This preliminary treatment will also help to prevent rejection of the transplanted material. While this is being done, the other members of your family, including your older son, will be tested for compatibility so that we can, hopefully, find a suitable donor. A sibling is the best bet, but we'll test all of you, except of course for Julia..."

John listened intently, and Mary held onto him for dear life, hardly hearing a word that was being said. She would have to rely upon him to help her understand later; for the moment, she was in shock.

***

Once they were alone in their car, Mary fell apart.

"Don't cry, love, ye'll have me bawlin' as well," John whispered as Mary sobbed in his arms. "I'm close to losin' it as it is."

"What are we going to do?" whispered Mary. He kissed her hair and struggled to keep his own tears in check.

"We show up at that hospital tomorrow an' we get tested," he said quietly, "An' we keep tellin' ourselves that Emily's gonna be all right." He drew in his breath and released it in a long, shuddering sigh.

"C'mon, now," he told her gently, disentangling himself from her, "Let's go get th' kids an' take 'em home. We'll talk more tonight after they've gone t' bed."

Mary nodded and sat back, looking out the car window at the building they'd just come from. The image wavered as her eyes filled again with tears.

"Let's go, baby," she told him. "I'll be all right. I'll cry later, but I won't let them see me doing it. We need to get them now. I need to hold our babies."

***

"Jesus, John, are they sure?" asked Paul.

"Yeah, they're sure, all right," replied John. "They tested me'n Mary t' see if one of us'll do as a donor, but we haven't heard yet. They ought to know by tomorrow, accordin' t' th' doctor."

"What a year." said Paul. "George isn't doing well, an' now this...are you all right?"

"I'm copin'. I've been better, though, Paulie. I haven't said anythin' t' Mary, but that fuckin' ulcer's been actin' up. I've been drinkin' antacid, but I think I need t' see the doctor meself. It got pretty bad last time, an' th' last thing Mary needs is t' hafta worry about me." John tossed his drink back and winced. "Yeah, there it is," he said.

"Ya shouldn't be drinkin' that stuff with an ulcer, that's for damn sure," Paul told him, pointing at John's empty glass.

"Yeah, well, I've gotta do somethin'," John told him. He poured himself another drink and downed it with the same practiced ease, then fished a bottle of antacid out of his jacket pocket and took a swig of that. "Ah, that's better," he said. He looked at Paul and smiled weakly. "At least I'm keepin' things outta me nose," he added.

"Ah, well, there's something to be said for that, isn't there, Johnny?" Paul replied, pouring himself another. "How's Mary bearin' up?"

"She's still in shock, I think. She doesn't say much, just acts like there's nothing wrong most o' th' time, except she's so quiet...I think it's mostly for th' kids' benefit, though. They don't realize that anythin' is up at all." He poured another drink, knocked it back, and chased it with a swallow of antacid. "This mornin' we went t' get tested t' see if one of us c'n be a bone marrow donor for her, but we won't find out how we did till tomorrow. I hope one of us'll do. Th' test is fuckin' painful, an' I don't want 'em t' hafta put George through it. He wouldn't understand."

"Is there anything Linda and I can do, John?" Paul poured himself another drink and took a sip, regarding John reflectively over the rim of his glass. "Maybe it'd be easier if we had Julia come stay with us for a while. The kids love her, and she wouldn't have to deal with this whole thing."

"It's not a bad idea," John admitted, "But I think Mary an' I would prefer t' keep th' family together just now. We don't know how much longer we'll have Emily with us--" His voice broke suddenly, he covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

"Aw, hey, John, s'okay," Paul told him, putting an arm around his friend's heaving shoulders. "Go ahead, let it out. There's nobody here but us. Just get rid of it all; you'll feel better."

At that moment, John would not have cared who saw. He was scared, and he was tired...tired of acting as though he knew that everything was going to be fine, tired of being strong for the sake of Mary and the kids, and tired most of all of keeping it all bottled up inside of him. He turned in his seat and pressed his face against Paul's shoulder, sobbing as though his heart was breaking; it certainly felt that way to John. After a brief hesitation, Paul put his arms around his friend and just let him cry it out.

Once John had no more tears left to cry, he pulled gently away and lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. His head hurt and he was a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Won't happen again."

"No," Paul replied, "John, it's all right. I understand--if it was one of my kids, I don't think I could be as strong as you're being. I'd most likely be stewin' at the bottom of a bottle round the clock, but you're not."

"Whattayer call this?" John retorted, waving the bourbon bottle before pouring himself another. He tossed it back and regarded the bottle in front of him with a baleful eye.

"Fuck it," he said, pushing the glass away. He upended the bottle and swallowed three more inches. Once he stopped, he winced and dragged his sleeve across his mouth. "Better stop this," he said. "I'll be paralytic if I keep it up." He pushed the bottle towards Paul. "Take it away from me, Macca," he said a little thickly. "I don't want any more." He looked up at the clock.

"Mary'll be asleep by now," he said. "Guess I oughta turn in as well. Gotta go t' th' goddam hospital tomorrow--or should I say this mornin'."

"All right, John, I'll be off then," his friend replied, "But you call me if there's anything I can do."

"Yerokay," John muttered. "Come 'ead; I'll open th' gate for ye t' get out."

***

Once Paul had gone, John locked the gate and checked the doors. He went to his bedroom and stopped short. Mary had somehow gotten Emily's old cradle, which Julia had been using to store her old dolls, out of their daughter's room and had put it beside their bed. Emily was sleeping in the old cradle, and Mary's hand was resting on the edge of it. John sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the baby. As if sensing him, she opened her eyes and yawned.

"Dadda," she said sleepily. It had been her first word half a year ago.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, love, do ye need summat? C'mon, let's check ye over." He lifted the child out of the cradle, which was much too small for her now, and rested her against his chest. She settled her head on his shoulder and put her little arms about his neck. John felt his throat tighten painfully, checking her diaper. She was wet, of course, and he carried her to the nursery and changed her.

"There ye go, Miss Emily," he told her, leaning close to her.

She giggled and put her arms out to him. "Up," she said. "Up, Dadda."

"Right," John said quietly, "Up it is." He lifted her again and carried her back to the bedroom. He sat in Mary's old rocker and held his youngest daughter close, letting his mind go back to the early morning a little over a year ago when he had helped his wife bring her into the world here in this very house. He looked in through the open bathroom door and could almost see himself and Mary in tableau, she on her hands and knees, he behind her receiving the newest member of their family into the same hands which held her now. He remembered how his heart had felt far too big to fit inside of his chest and his throat had constricted as he looked at the new little girl in Mary's arms just as the sun was coming up, tinting the walls pink in what he felt was an appropriate welcome for the newest little Lennon. He felt like that now, too, but not for the same reason. It's funny, John thought, how being dead scared you're about to lose someone makes your throat tighten a! nd your heart beat so hard just as realizing how much you love them does. He pressed his lips against her silky hair.

Emily pulled back and regarded him with Mary's wide brown eyes in miniature.

"Are ye hungry, love?" he asked. She nodded and he stood up. "Well, then," he said, "let's wake yer Mummy, shall we?"

John sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss Mary's cheek. She stirred and opened her eyes.

"John," she whispered, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I was gettin' ready t' go t' bed," he said softly, "An' I noticed our gurrl here was awake. I changed her nappy, but she wants her milk, an' that's yer department."

"Oh, all right, baby, give her to me," said Mary, pulling her nightgown down to expose a breast. John lay their daughter beside her and watched as she began to feed, her eyes on her mothers face.

"When did Paul leave?" asked Mary.

"About half an hour ago," he replied. "He wanted t' know if we'd like t' let Julia go spend some time with his family while--well, while things're upset, like."

"That was kind of Paul, but I'd rather keep us all together just now," Mary said.

"Yeah, that's what I told him," said John. "He understood. Paul's a good skin. He was really sorry t' hear...about everythin'."

"Please don't talk about it," Mary said softly. "I don't want to think about it now."

Emily's eyes were closed, and there was milk dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Gently, John lifted her and laid her back in the cradle. He covered her and stood up, saying nothing as he removed his clothes. He walked around to his side of the bed and climbed in.

"C'mere, Mary," he said softly. She turned towards him and he took her into his arms, holding her close against himself.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered. "I just want to forget about all that right now. It hurts to think about it. I don't want to hurt right now, John, please help me. Hold me closer. I need you to love me." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, kissing him gently, tentatively. John felt himself responding to her; the gentle pressure of her lips teased him, and he moaned softly and tightened his grip on her. Mary pushed her belly against him insistently, and he found himself wanting her beyond all reason.

"Now," Mary whispered. "I want you now, baby, please--" she moved against him, and he pulled her nightgown up and covered her body with his own, sliding into her in one quick, easy movement. Mary wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deep into her body.

John began to move, slowly at first, trying to be gentle with her. Mary was beyond tenderness; she wanted him to take her roughly, to make her feel vibrantly alive and shake her out of the funk she'd been walking around in for the past two days.

"More, John," she whispered, "Faster, baby, please--"

He let out a deep groan and pounded into her, spurred on by her fingers running feverishly up and down his arms and across his shoulders and his own suddenly desperate need. Mary bucked wildly beneath him, straining upwards, clutching his shoulders, her nails almost piercing his flesh. He was beside himself, frantically slamming against her again and again until he felt that he must slow down or he would be unable to hold himself back. He paused and switched to a slower rhythm and Mary whispered, "No, baby, don't stop--I'm ready for you!"

John groaned and thrust deep into her a few more times, finally giving himself over to his body's demands. Mary pressed her face into his shoulder and cried out, her voice muffled. For just a few moments, everything else ceased to exist, and they were lost in one another's love, sweetly oblivious to the grim spectre which had been dragging them down. It was something that they had been needing ever since they had gotten the terrible news about Emily's illness, and their desperate act of lovemaking connected them where they had been separated, each on their own island of inward and solitary pain.

Once the connection had been made, John and Mary clung to one another and allowed their tears to mingle. He stopped trying to be strong for her, and she stopped trying to deny the pain she had been holding silently inside. The floodgates were opened wide, and the man and the woman became one entity in their abject grief, sobbing their agony and frustration into one another's shoulders until the tears were gone and the sun was coming up.

***

"Good news, Mr. Lennon, there's no need to test your sons for compatibility. You are almost a perfect tissue match yourself," said Dr. Samuels. "We'll begin with Emily's preparation for the procedure."

"What're ye gonna do t' her?"

"Well, she needs a full course of chemotherapy and irradiation. That is necessary to eliminate the residual cancer cells and prevent graft rejection."

"In common English, please," said John testily. "Not all of us went to medical university, yerknow." He lit a cigarette and waited, his eyes on the doctor's face, enfolding Mary's hand in his own.

"Sorry," Dr. Samuels said. "What that means is that Emily will come in every day for the next week and a half. We will administer a dose of chemicals intravenously and she will get a radiation treatment. We will do this to kill the cancer that is in her blood and make sure that when we put your bone marrow into her, her body will accept the transplant and not reject it as foreign material."

"Right," John replied. "I understand that. Now, tell me summat--is it gonna hurt her? Will there be a lot o' pain?"

"The radiation therapy is painless," the doctor told him. "The chemotherapy is uncomfortable, and the aftereffects can be...quite unpleasant."

John felt his stomach lurch. His eyes filled with tears and Mary was clutching his hand. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep calm. "What kinda effects?" he wanted to know.

"She will be nauseous, and there will be a lot of vomiting. She will have diarrhea, as well. She'll experience a lot of fatigue and she'll do a lot of sleeping, but that's good because she needs the rest. She may lose her hair, and she will have muscle pains, but we can give her something for that."

"Fuckin' hell," John muttered. Aloud, he said, "Isn't there any other way? Does she have to go through all this shit? Christ, man, she's just a fuckin' baby!" His voice hitched and broke. "Jesus," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, but there's no other way," Dr. Samuels told him. "The alternative--"
"Yeah, I know, don't fuckin' say it," John whispered. "All right. Tell us when t' be here an' we'll bring her in."

***

"Daddy, can I talk to you?" asked Julia.

John was sitting at the piano in his basement studio, and the girl had come down and was watching him from the doorway.

"Sure, Puss," he replied, laying his pencil down and moving over to make room on the piano bench for her. "C'mon in an' sit down beside me. Zarra problem?"

"Kind of," she told him. "Something happened in school today."

"Well, tell us about it," he said. "I'll help ye if I can. Did ye talk t' yer mum?"

"No, she's busy with Emily; she's sick again," Julia told him. "She's been sick a lot, Daddy."
"She has. I've been meanin' t' talk t' ye about that," said John quietly. "But first tell us what happened at school, love. One thing at a time."

"One of the older girls asked me if I could get your autograph for her," said Julia. "I told her that I didn't want to, because if I did it for her, everyone would want one, just like last year. She got mad at me and she said that you and Mummy weren't my real parents anyway. I told her it was a lie, but some of the other big girls said she was right, that it had been in the newspapers and everything. She's wrong, though. They're all wrong, aren't they?" Julia's eyes filled with tears and spilled over. She dashed the tears away and waited expectantly for him to affirm that the girl had been wrong.

John did not know what to say. He had not anticipated this. He and Mary had decided that Julia would be told about her adoption in a few more years; he was not ready to have this conversation. Not yet, and certainly not now, when they were going through so much with Emily. Julia's clear, startlingly blue eyes searched his face. She knew him too well; one look at him was enough to tell her that it was true.

"Daddy, it's true, isn't it." It was not a question. "You don't hafta say it; I can tell by your face. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He reached for her and she fell into his arms in tears.

"Daddy," she sobbed, "Who am I?"

"Whist, gurrl, yer Julia Marie Lennon, same as ye were this mornin', same as ye always were," he said gently into her soft, blonde hair. "That's who ye'll always be. Yer mummy an' I couldn't love ye any more than we do no matter what. Ye gotta believe that, baby." He lifted her onto his lap and held her close, rocking her gently, his face in her hair and tears running down his face. They were still sitting just that way when Mary buzzed half an hour later.

John got to his feet, shifting his daughter to the bench. He pressed the TALK button on the intercom. "Yeah, love, what is it," he said.

"Have you seen Julia?" she asked. "I can't find her; I hope she's there with you," Mary said in a worried voice.

"She is," he replied, "We'll be right up, darlin'. Summat came up at school today that we need to talk about."

***

"We heard that there was a brand new baby girl at the hospital who had no mummy or daddy, and she needed a blood transfusion," Mary said. “My blood matched hers, so I gave some of my blood to help her get better. When I got back out to the car, Daddy was waiting there for me. He was sleeping...I woke him up and he asked me if I had seen the little baby girl. I said I had, and that she was the most beautiful little baby I had ever seen."

"Was I the baby?" asked Julia, the faintest smile beginning to show.

"Who else?" asked her father. "Course ye were, an' ye were that beautiful, just like ye are now."

" We decided that since that little girl didn't have any mummy or daddy and since we were getting married and didn't have a little baby to love, we would adopt you," Mary went on, pulling Julia closer to her.

"Look at it this way," John told her. "Most o' th' time when people have a baby, they just have to take whatever baby they get. That didn't happen in yer case; we chose you. Out of all the little baby girls in the whole world, we decided that you were the one we wanted."

"But why didn't you tell me?" asked Julia. "Were you ever going to?"

"We were; we were just waiting for ye to get a bit older. We didn't know if ye'd understand yet at yer age," John replied.

"I'm a very big girl, Daddy," Julia told him. "I understand fine."

"Yeah...I see ye do," he admitted. "I guess I just think on ye as still bein' me baby, like." He smiled gently at her. "Don't be growin' up too fast," he said. "I wanna have ye be me baby for a while longer yet."

Julia walked over to him and hugged his neck. "I always will be, Daddy," she promised, kissing his cheek. "I promise."

He hugged her fiercely. "I love ye, darlin'," he whispered. "I'm gonna hold ye t' that promise, mind."

***

Emily looked so small in the hospital bed...John and Mary watched helplessly as the nurse inserted the needle and started the chemicals flowing into her little arm, which was taped to a small board to hold it immobile. She was crying for them to help her, and Mary hid her face against John's shoulder and cried just as hard as their daughter did.

Various hospital personnel paused outside of the room and looked inside to see the ex-Beatle and his wife sitting beside their very sick little girl. Feeling as though he was on display, John kept his face immobile, the blank, cold, impassive mask slipping into place as it hadn't for some time--smoothly and effortlessly, well-oiled by years of practice, it dropped into place. Anyone who looked at him would think that he cared nothing for the suffering of the child lying in the bed next to him. He carefully avoided looking at her, and he tried to shut her cries out of his mind and keep them from filtering down into his heart and twisting there like a cold, steel blade. He tried to make himself immune to the painful constriction of his throat, betraying himself only by the twitching of the muscles in his strong, arrogant jaw.

He sat there, stiff and unyielding, refusing to let anyone see the agony he felt over his helpless impotence...there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening to the baby, and it was killing him inside, but he would be damned if he would allow the strangers who kept parading through the room with their sterile gowns and their cool, professional demeanor or the secretaries and orderlies with their curious faces to see him lose the tenuous hold he had on his emotions. If he could control nothing else, then by Christ he could control that, and he would. When he was back home and safe from their prying eyes, he would cry, but not here, not now. He would not give them a spectacle to discuss over their suppers at home, would not let them see his pain.

When at last their child's ordeal was over for the day, John and Mary were on their way to their car with Emily, who was sleeping in John's arms with her tears still drying on her cheeks. One of the nurses approached them and held out a hospital menu and a pen to John.

"Would you give me your autograph?" she asked.

"This is a bad time," he replied. "Please, just leave us alone. We need t' get our baby home to bed."

"It will only take a few seconds," the woman insisted, thrusting the paper and pen at him.

John hesitated, then handed the baby to Mary and grabbed the things from the woman. He scribbled something on the paper and threw it and the pen to the floor.

"C'mon, Mary," he muttered. "Let's get th' fuck outta here."

The woman picked up her pen and the menu and looked at it. FUCK YOU, it said.

**

"We have to cancel our plans for th' new album," John said quietly. "George has taken a turn for th' worse. He's not able t' work at all...looks like he's out o' commission for quite a while. I think it might be time t' put an end t' Blue Algae Skyline."

"It's been hard for me to make the time for these sessions anyhow," Paul admitted. "Between this and Wings, I haven't had enough time to spend with my family. If you want to stop, John, I won't try to convince you to keep on with it. You have an awful lot on your plate right now too, with Emily."

"It was fun while it lasted, though," said Ringo. "We pulled it off--no one ever found out what we were doin'."

"We finished our obligation, all we have to do is not renew the contract when it comes due next week," John told them. "I say we do that. Are ye agreed?"

Both of his friends nodded.

"Right; it's settled, then," said John. "It was a good run, an' we pulled it off perfect. I'll ring George tonight and let him know. He'll probably be relieved. Now, who's up for a drink?"

***

"What time do we have to be there tomorrow, Mary?" asked John. He was due to have a small sample of his bone marrow taken for something called a 'mixed leukocyte culture', the purpose of which was to determine whether Emily's bone marrow would be able to recognize his as something other than a foreign and be compatible with it. Both samples would be cultured together and the results studied.

"We have to be there at eight," she told him. "I'll be happy when this is done and Emily is well again." She did not allow herself to say or even to think in terms of whether their daughter would get well. She always said 'when'.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed. "Th' sooner this is all behind us, the better. I've seen enough hospital rooms t' last me two lifetimes, an' it hurts so t' see her suffer. I'd give anythin' if it could be me instead, Mary." He sighed and kicked his boots off.

The room was in semi darkness, the slice of light coming from the partly open bathroom door falling across his face as he bent forward to pull his socks off. He leaned back on the bed and skinned his jeans down past his hips and off. He sat back up and unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged out of it and laid it on top of his discarded jeans. He swung his legs up and under the quilt and watched Mary feed their daughter in the big, old rocker. He thought that she had never looked more beautiful. Her long, brown hair tumbled down over her shoulders and down her back, and her eyes shone with love as she looked down at the child she held to her breast. Watching Mary, he felt a surge of desire for her. He wanted to take her into hi! s arms and make the world and all its cares recede into sweet oblivion.

Once Emily had fallen asleep and had been placed gently into the old cradle, Mary got into bed beside John. He took her into his arms and drew her close, kissing her softly.

"Are ye too tired, love?" he asked, running his hands gently down her back and pulling her close against him.It was obvious to Mary that he wanted her; he was throbbing insistently against her belly, and he was breathing hard.

"I'm not too tired for this," she told him, closing her hand around him and stroking him gently. He pushed against her, into her hand, then turned her onto her back and mounted her, his mouth on hers; he entered her with a low moan, and she caught her breath when he slid deep into her, her arms tightening around his neck, reaching for another kiss, holding him tightly against her body with her legs clasped firmly about his waist.

Looking up at him, Mary wondered how she had managed to resist him for as long as she had. She hadn't known who he really was, hadn't seen this side of him, hadn't understood that the man she thought him to be was just a persona and not the true man she had later fallen in love with. Looking up into his handsome face now, she felt her heart turn over inside of her. "I love you," she whispered, and he bent his head to kiss her deeply once again.

He chose a slow rhythm, moving with easy grace. His hands moved all over her, gently caressing her feverish skin. She moved with his delicious, slow strokes, loving the way he was torturing her. Their desire was strong, but they held themselves back. The scent of his clean sweat and the fires lit by his hot, beautiful hands with their long, graceful fingers which coaxed utter passion out of guitar and woman alike were making Mary lose control; she hung at the edge, balanced for a moment, holding her breath, waiting for the instant when she would be unable to hold back any longer. He began to move with greater force, his need undeniable and obvious from the now frantic thrusting of his hips and the look of intense concentration upon his face. Their breathing seemed ear shatteringly loud in the hushed, darkened room, and their bodies strained to reach the point of sweet abandon. At last they reached the jumping off place and plummeted to the point of no return together, knowing that the hot rush of their release was imminent.

They were pitched headlong into the tidal wave of pleasure; Mary cried out softly as he slammed into her for the final few thrusts. A low moan burst from John's throat as he spent himself with a final, wordless cry.

When it was over, they remained entwined without talking about their troubles at all, choosing instead to let the comfort they had found in one another's arms carry over into sleep.

***

John eyed the equipment which would be used to harvest his bone marrow with more than a little trepidation.

"That's yer gear, is it?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, but there's no need to worry, Mr. Lennon, sir, you'll be unconscious during the procedure and won't feel anything."

"Yerokay," said John, "Let's get this over with, then." He winced as a young nurse placed a needle in a vein in his arm and opened his mouth to protest her apparent lack of skill, but before he could say a word, the world fell away and he was asleep.

***

Mr. Lennon? Sir? Do you know where you are?" asked a disembodied voice.

The light hurt his eyes, and that light was all that John could see. Lifting a hand to shade his eyes,he mumbled thickly, "In th' fuckin' ozzie, apparently, just like I was when that ham-fisted nurse stuck th' needle in me bleedin' arm."

"Hmmm, yes, well, sorry about that, she's new, and I'm afraid she was a little intimidated by you, since you're--"

"Yeah, I unnerstand," he replied. "S'okay. Could I get some water, please? Feels like I've got sand in me gob."

"Certainly." He signaled to someone outside of John's line of vision, and the nurse appeared, looking very embarrassed. She held a cup of water for him, and he drank it and said, "Thanks--sorry about what I said. I didn't mean anythin'."

She blushed and smiled shyly. "It's all right, Mr. Lennon, really. I know I didn't make the best job of it."

"Ye did fine," he assured her. "Really. And call me John."

The girl blushed furiously. "Thank you, John," she whispered.

"Now, could I get a little more water?" he asked her. She nodded, beaming at him, and hurried to get it.

John turned his head to look at the doctor again. "How long am I gonna feel like this?" he asked. "Feels like I've done meself an injury; me hip hurts like bleedin' hell."

"I'll give you something for that," replied the doctor. "Or would you rather have Miss Johnson administer a shot?" he added with a wink. "Actually, Miss Johnson will be taking care of your medications. She will just be putting the needle into your IV, so you don't have to worry about any discomfort."

The nurse returned with John's water and he regarded her over the rim of the cup.

She reminded him of Mary, back when they had first met. He finished the water and lay back.

"Ta, love," he said. The girl gave him a dazzling smile.

"Thank you, Mr.--John," she said in a breathless voice. Cute little thing, thought John.

Aloud, he said, "Yer welcome. What's yer name, love?"

She ducked her head shyly. "It's Becka, sir--I mean, John."

"Well, Becka," he said, "How about givin' poor old John summat for this pain he's in? Hurts like bleedin' hell."

She looked to the doctor.

"Give him three milligrams of morphine in the IV line," the doctor told her.

***

"Are ye sure that was morphine?" asked John fifteen minutes later, "Cos I sure don't feel any better." He suspected that the young nurse had screwed up again.

"Yes, sir, it was...I'll ask Doctor Fenton if I can give you more."

"Do that, whydontcher," John told her in a tight voice. It seemed to him as though the pain had gotten worse instead of better. It felt as though someone had smashed a sledgehammer into his hip.

Half an hour later, after an additional seven milligrams, John was still in pain.

"I feel like fuckin' hell, Miss Becka," he told her. "Ask th' doctor of I c'n have a bit more, willya?"

***

"I don't understand the problem, Mr. Lennon," the doctor told him. "That's a pretty high dose. We never use more than fifteen milligrams, and you've had ten already. Have you ever abused opiates?"

John hesitated. "I have," he admitted, "But I stopped a while back. Yer not allowed t' tell anyone about this, are ye?"

"No, sir, I won't mention it to anyone; I'm under obligation not to, but you have to tell me--be honest with me--what were you using, and how much?"

"Heroin," he admitted, "I was up to about twelve bags a day...three at a time, like."

"All right, we'll take care of you, sir, and don't worry. Nobody will know. I'll have your nurse give you another five milligrams, and you'll probably need a strong sedative as well to help you sleep. Just hang on for a few moments."

***

Once John had been settled in his room for the rest of the day, Mary was allowed to see him. She sat beside him on the bed and leaned in for a kiss.

"Does it hurt very much?" she asked, stroking his hair back from his face. He grinned at her.

"Well, it hurt like a bleedin' bastard when I woke up," he replied, "But I have to say that I'm feeling pretty good just now." He indicated his IV bottle, which now featured a steady drip of morphine mixed with the Ringer's Lactate he was receiving. "Good stuff, this," he added with a wink.

"Oh, I see. Well, don't get too used to it," said Mary. "It wouldn't do to start all that up again after all you went through." She sounded a little worried to John, and he reassured her that he would not be continuing his medication any longer than was necessary.

"Have ye seen Emily yet?" asked John. "How's she doin'? I asked th' doc, but all he'd say is that she's 'respondin' well'. I think they'd tell me that in any case. Is she all right?"

"She's asleep," Mary replied. "They're keeping her pretty heavily sedated, but I got them to promise that as soon as they're sure she's all right, they will allow us to have some time with her."

"Ah, that's nice," he said. "They say I c'n go home tomorrow, but Emily has t' stay for th' duration. Mary," he added, his eyes suddenly filling with tears, "This has gotta work. It's just gotta." Mary climbed into the narrow bed beside him and he put his arms around her as best he could, encumbered as he was by the tube coming from his arm. "Been prayin', have ye?" he asked, "I think we could use a bit o' that, like."

"I've been in the chapel all morning," she replied in a quiet voice. "Ever since they took you and Emily to be prepared for the procedure. I have to believe that she's going to be all right, John. She's only a baby; she hasn't had a chance to--"Mary struggled with her emotions, and John tightened his arms around her. "She hasn't had a chance to become the person she was meant to be." Mary lost the tenuous hold she'd had on her control, and she began crying quietly.

"I hope she wakes up soon," John whispered into her hair. "I'll feel a lot better once I c'n see her again. Ye know what, Mary, me love?" he asked. Mary shook her head and managed to stop crying.

"No," she replied. "What?"

"I'm thinkin' that when they let me outta this fuckin' bed an' take this tube outta me arm, I'll make a trip t' that chapel with ye. Dunno if He'd listen t' th' likes o' me, but our gurrl c'n use all the help she c'n get right now."

"It's going to be so hard to go home tomorrow and leave her here," Mary whispered. "I'm going to miss her so much-- she has to stay here for two weeks, John. The time is going to go by so slowly."

"Yeah, they say it's gotta be that way, though, cos she's weak now from the chemicals an' radiation they used t' kill th' cancer in her blood... it's for her own good, Mary. We just hafta be patient, I s'pose, although as ye know, that's not one o' me strong suits."

***

That night after Mary had gone home, Nurse Becka came into John's room to give him his sedative.

"Would you like me to rub your back, John?" she asked. "If you turn on your side, I would be happy to do that for you. It must be sore from lying on it all day."

"Yeah, it does kinda ache...not too bad, though, thanks t' this little cocktail ye got goin' inta me arm. That'd be nice, though, Becka, thanks." He managed to turn onto his side and Becka untied the back of his hospital gown and slipped it forward to expose his back completely. The sedative was taking hold of John, and he was feeling very relaxed and comfortable between the medication and the gentle massage. "Mmmm, s'nice," he said drowsily.

Once she had finished the backrub, Becka helped John turn over again. She reached over him to turn out the light over his bed, and he watched her through half-lidded eyes. The edges of reality were beginning to blur, and in his mind, it was Mary bending over him in the semi darkness.

She leaned across him and turned out the light. The medication had muddled his mind; he felt very relaxed and somewhat confused.

"C'mere, gurrl," he said in a rough whisper. He reached for her and she allowed him to take her into his arms. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue insistently exploring her mouth. She melted against him with a soft moan, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer still.

"I want ye, woman," he told her, his voice a silken growl. He fumbled with the buttons on her dress and found that he was unable to unfasten them.

"What're ye wearin, love?" he asked.

"It's my uniform, of course, silly," she whispered. "What else would I be wearing at work?"

John peered at the girl and was horrified to see that it was Becka.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Becka," John said, pushing her gently away. "I didn't know who ye were; I thought ye were me wife. It was th' medication, ye see; it had me a bit cabbaged--I wasn't in me right mind. I'm sorry, really."

"Do you mean you don't want me?" she asked quietly. In the light coming in through the window from the parking lot, John could see the tears sparkling in her eyes. They brimmed over and slipped slowly down her cheeks.

"Aw, don't cry, love," he said softly. "It's not that, yer a beautiful gurrl...if I'd met ye before, I'd've been all over ye. Believe me, yer dead sexy. It's that I love Mary, an' I almost lost her once already for steppin' out on her. I promised I wouldn't do it again, an' I just can't. D'ye understand, Becka?"

"Yes, I do. You don't want me," she whispered. "I'll see that you are assigned a different nurse," she told him, and she left the room quickly, ignoring his protests.

***

John and Mary stood beside Emily's bedside and watched her sleep. The doctor was keeping her sedated so that she wouldn't fuss and dislodge her tubes. She had an IV in her arm and a feeding tube was in place as well. There were electrodes attached to her scalp and a catheter had been inserted so that she would not need to be changed often.

"Look at her," whispered John. "She looks so small, with all that fuckin' gear attached to her." He sighed and drew Mary close. "I just wanna pull out all those fuckin' tubes an' wires an' take her home. I wanna protect her."

"You are protecting her," Mary told him. "You gave her your bone marrow; what more can you do? You'll have saved her life, if she--"

"Whist, gurrl, don't say it," he said quickly. "Don't even think it. She's gonna fight this thing, an' she's gonna fuckin' win."

***

"Mrs. Lennon, this is Doctor Fenton. I need to see you and your husband at the hospital as soon as possible. How fast can you get here?"

"We'll come straight away," she replied. "We'll be right there."

***

John and Mary sat in Dr. Fenton's office, and he regarded them solemnly from the other side of his desk.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," he said. John's stomach lurched, and Mary was crying softly. "Emily has developed a dangerous infection. She's running a high fever. We're doing all we can; she's receiving the full course of antibiotics, but at this point all we can do is wait and see whether she'll be able to fight it off."

"Ye mean there's nothin' else ye c'n do? In this day an' age, a kid c'n just die from an infection in a fuckin' hospital?"

"You have to understand, Mr. Lennon," said the doctor. "Emily's very weak. The chemotherapy and the irradiation destroyed the cancer cells, but her resistance was lowered, because the antibodies in her blood were destroyed as well."

"Well, give her some o' my blood," said John. "Take all ye need, just don't let her--" he struggled to maintain control. "Just make her well," he told the doctor. "Please."

"If she can survive the night," Dr. Fenton told John, "She will probably come through. We will do all we can, I promise you."

***

"We'll just stay right here, whether it's all th' same t' ye or not," John told the attending nurse. "This is our baby, don'tcher understand? We'll not be leavin' here unless ye have us removed bodily, an' even if ye do, we'll be back as soon as ye turn yer fuckin' back. She could be dyin', an' if she does, we're gonna be here with her. I'll not allow her t' be alone, not tonight."

The nurse gave an exasperated sigh. "But sir," she replied, "It's against our regulations, I just can't--"

"Bugger yer fuckin' regulations!" shouted John, and Mary grabbed him by the arm and shushed him frantically.

"John, we're in a hospital, you have to keep your voice down," she told him desperately. "Please, baby."

"Yeah, okay, sorry, love," he said quickly. Turning his attention back to the nurse, a large-boned German woman, he gave her a withering stare.

"I've made a sizeable contribution to this hospital every year for the past ten years," he told her in an utterly cold voice. "If I were you, I would reconsider upsettin' me. Now, get this straight, Brunhilda Needlewielder," he went on, (two junior nurses dissolved in giggles at this last), "yer gonna get us a couple o' chairs an' a cot, an' we're stayin' in that room with our daughter. It just so happens that Mr. Gregory, th' man who signs yer checks, is a big fan o' mine. Now, do I make meself clear?"

"I'll see to it, sir," the nurse muttered, and she stalked away. John nodded his satisfaction and took Mary's arm, and together they went into Emily's room.

***

Throughout the night, they sat and watched over Emily as she slept fitfully. By the time the sun was coming up, she had fallen into a deep, natural sleep and her temperature had fallen to near normal.

"Is she gonna be all right?" John asked the doctor as he examined the baby.

"I'd say this little girl stands a good chance of living to give you grandchildren someday, Mr. Lennon," replied Doctor Fenton. "If she continues to improve at this rate, she can go home at the end of the week. We'll want to see her every week for a while, and we'll taper the visits off until she is just coming in yearly like her brother and sister do."

John thanked him, and he and Mary smiled down at their daughter.

"Look at her, Mary," John said softly. "I knew she could do it."

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Ringo's head appeared in the window. John went out into the hall to speak to him.

"How's she doin'?" asked Ringo.

"Better; th' doc says she'll likely be fine now," John replied. "Didja bring Julia with you?"

"Nope, she's over at the Talbots, next door to me," he said with a grin. "I'm here for other business. I've been here since four this mornin'. Congratulate me, John-- it's a girl!"

"That's wonderful!" said Mary as she came out into the hall. "How's Maureen?"

"Proud, happy, an' exhausted," Ringo replied. "C'mon, let's go take a look at th' newest little Starkey!"

"Right behind ye, Ritch," John told him, taking one last look through the window on Emily's door. He paused and looked up towards the ceiling.

Tell Angel Godiva what you thought of her story!