From The Ashes - Chapter 2/?
And we're back!
Title: From The Ashes
Pairing: Ultimately: Maureen/Cynthia.
Summary: After an unspeakable tragedy leaves her a young widow, Maureen works to re-build her life out of the shadow of her late husband, with the help of friends, family, and especially Cynthia.
Warnings: Major character death, self-harm and suicide, addiction, depictions of blood (later chapters).
Rating: R for subject matter.
Disclaimer : No harm meant, I own nothing, I know nothing, it's just a bit of "what if..."
Chapter 2 -The World Ain't Gonna Stop
Somehow, despite a part of her that wishes it hasn't, the world has kept turning. And the sun rises as it normally does and is flitting through the curtains . Maureen gives up on trying to sleep any longer. Not that she’s slept much anyway. She keeps thinking of her two boys, Zak and Jason, currently staying with her mother and father, back in Liverpool. They’ll be there until the service, in a few days. She has no idea how to explain to them- Zak just turned 4 and Jason just turned 2- that their father is dead. She’ll wrangle with the subject of suicide later on. Just letting them know their father is gone, the man they both looked up to and adored is no longer coming home...it’s painful to think of that. Anything more will crush her, she’s sure. At least right that moment.
Out of habit, not hunger, she pulls herself up from the sofa and makes her way to the kitchen. Kettle on, tea bags down from cupboard. Muscle memory is all she can rely on right now it feels like. Just doing the same things by rote. Despite not having even the slightest appetite, she puts two pieces of bread in the toaster to toast. Wondering idly when she’ll be able to feel even remotely like a human being again as she goes about putting out cream,butter and jam and honey on the kitchen table to join the sugar already there.
Pattie comes in about the time the kettle clicks off. “You’re up early.” She sounds worried but in that odd way that sounds like she wants to sound casual. It’s how just about everyone talks to her these days. It's starting to wear on her. She's not such a weakling that she'll just fall over into dramatic sobs at the slightest thing.
At least not where anyone can see her.
“I didn’t sleep so well.” Maureen shrugs and goes to get the kettle. There is so much she wants to say, but she doesn’t want to make her friend and hostess uncomfortable. “Decided to just get on up, be productive. Didn’t mean to wake you.” She pulls down two mugs and the box of tea bags. "Tea?"
"You didn't. I didn't sleep so well either. Nor George. And ,yes, please." Pattie sounds nervous, off in a way.
As Maureen prepares the tea, and the toast pops up, and she places more bread in, she is waiting for another shoe to drop. Once the tea has steeped enough, she carries over the mugs, sits them down and goes back for the plate of toast. "I'm not feeling like much to eat." She explains, starting to fix her tea.
"It's fine. I'm not all that hungry myself. I'll fix something for George later." Pattie draws a deep breath and bites her lower lip lightly before speaking. "Maureen... I... I told George last night...I...erm..I'd rather not go with you two to the meeting..."
Maureen just takes a sip of her tea and nods. "I understand. It's fine." She has been half-expecting this. She offers a wry smile. "If I didn't have to , I wouldn't either. Being with them lads together any more isn't my idea of fun- wasn't when Ritchie was still alive."
"It really is getting bad with them." Pattie nibbles on toast.
"Yeah. I hate watching it.” Maureen agrees. She spreads butter on her toast and nibbles on it . The two ladies eat in silence. Thick , uncomfortable silence. Maureen hurriedly finishes her toast and tea and stands up, silently gesturing to take Pattie's cup.
The blonde waves her off. " Don't worry about it. I'll clean up. "
"Ta." Maureen nods and smiles slightly. She grabs her pack of Larks,and a pack of matches needing a smoke but not wanting to spend too much longer in the kitchen, and makes her way to the back garden, noting the early Autumn chill but not really feeling it. She lights her match and then a cigarette, still amazed at how odd it feels to light her own. Not that Ritchie always lit hers, but as often as not he would. It's such a little thing. But all these little things are adding up. A long drag and a heavy sigh. This meeting is going to be torture. Another drag, then flicking ash to the container on the ground. Without Pattie, a "first" wife, to balance the "new" ones, she's going to feel off balance. Yoko will no doubt be there, and not having to be nice for Ritchie's sake, mixed with all the emotions she’s feeling at any given time and Maureen is very afraid she'll say the wrong thing. She's not all that keen on Linda- already the elder woman has started to act like a mother to her (the daily phone calls to check in are especially jarring) and it's just not what Maureen needs nor wants.
Another long drag. Still no calmer. And starting to feel the chill a bit. But no desire to spend more time inside the bungalow with Pattie alone. Or in general. She knows she can move back in to Sunny Heights so her time here is coming to an end. But she really isn't sure she's ready.
For not the first time, Maureen wishes that Cynthia were still around, that all ties hadn't been so severed. She'd be the helper that Maureen knows she needs. A calm, logical,guiding hand that isn’t taking over. And sympathetic but with a Northern edge. There has to be a way to get in touch with her, but she hasn’t a number or anything. And none of the lads would dare ask for her, she’s sure. The line in the sand had been very clearly drawn.
She gets a bit lost in her thoughts, that circle between missing Ritchie, being angry at him, and how much she wishes she knew how to reach Cynthia, finishing and extinguishing her first cigarette and starting a second. She needs to get dressed -the meeting is at two and she wants to get there early- but it’s hard to be motivated for something she doesn’t want to go to in the first place.
"Penny for your thoughts?" George's voice startles her.
"Christ! You scared me." Maureen only just manages to keep from dropping her cigarette. She turns to give him a wry grin. "Doubt the Queen herself has enough for these thoughts. " Another drag and ash flick.
George nods. "Thought I'd try.” He lights his own cigarette and takes a drag.
Maureen takes a few more drags off hers, trying to figure out how much she wants to let George in on. The silence between them is a bit more comfortable. Not ideal but better. She knows she doesn’t have to say much of anything to George. Which makes her more inclined to want to. “I was just thinking how quick everything changes. Not just Ritchie, but just so much. In a fairly little amount of time. In the two years since Brian’s died, so many new people came in our little world, so many have left.”
“Like Cynthia?” George asks.
“We were so close. Cynthia and I got on very well. And I don’t even know where to find her. She’ll hear about Ritchie like the rest of the masses. She don’t deserve that. She ain’t ‘one of the masses’. “ The Southern polishing has started to drop off her words, emotions getting control of them.
“No, no she’s not.” George agrees with a sigh. “Not at all.”
Maureen wants to ask if he knows how to get in touch with her but she highly doubts it. Instead she makes a small hum of agreement. She finishes her cigarette and extinguishes it. “I have to get ready. I’m going a bit early, try to beat the curious types. " The rumors are already starting to reach her ears. Part of this meeting is to figure out exactly how to address those rumors. Despite the efforts to be as discreet as possible, people have seen police cars and officers at homes, at Apple, at clubs and pubs . Someone caught the ambulance pulling up to Sunny Heights. When the remaining three show up at Savile Row and no fourth member them, rumors are going to start going as if someone poured 100s of liters of petrol on a wildfire.
"I don't suppose you want to show up with me." George offers. He lightly reaches out to give her a small shoulder squeeze.
"Without Pattie? The mills are going already, no need to stir it up more." Maureen turns to offer another half grin, surprised to find George’s eyes glassy with unshed tears. And the anger she feels at Ritchie bubbles up again. Didn't he give anyone but himself a moments thought? Deep down she knows he was one of the least selfish people she knew but he just got lost .But her immediate thoughts are anger. “I’m so sorry, George.” She goes back and squeezes his hand tightly.
“You needn’t be, Maureen.” George returns her hand squeeze and lightly kisses the back of it.
Maureen just sighs and nods as she withdraws her hand. She can’t help but feel she has to apologize for the actions her husband took. For not catching it, for going on a shopping trip for a dress she didn’t need, for trusting her husband alone despite two previous attempts to do what he finally managed to do.
For all the sadness and anger that hang over everything right now.
But she doesn’t explain any of that to George and instead just gives his hand one more tender squeeze and goes inside to get ready.
***
The phone call from George was certainly a surprise. Since her and John split, Cynthia's heard heard nothing from any of her ex-husband’s band mates except for one visit from Paul early on. But since she’s moved out of the greater London area, going back to Liverpool to get away from the whole scene (one too many dates that only wanted information about John or access to him put her off the whole of London and on a quest to straighten her head out first), nothing. That alone is tough, but who she misses most is actually Maureen. The pair of them got on very well, being young mothers and Northern plus the younger woman was just great fun, and comfort when things got rough.
But the bigger surprise, the far nastier one, was the revelation the Richard had taken his own life. He’d always been such a wonderfully easy-going soul, at least every time that Cynthia had spent time with him. A friendly, easy smile and manner to go with it. But, as she also knows from Maureen, that he had a deep fondness for the drink that got troubling at times. And her history with John alone is enough to know that people in private aren’t always who they seem in public.
But none of that matters now as Cynthia scrambles to get arrangements made for Julian with the child-minder, and prepares for the nearly three hour train ride from Liverpool to London. All she really cares about is getting to Apple to be there for her friend. As soon as the arrangements are confirmed and Julian is comforted with promises she’ll be back in a few days (and will bring pressies...he's still got some innocent little boy to him and nothing makes her happier than to indulge that side ) , she quickly packs a bag with enough clothing for a few days and waits for the driver who will take her to the Lime Street station, trying to keep her mind off the nervousness she feels nipping at her heels.
*****
Managing to slip in to Apple before any of the others can arrive, Maureen very quickly slips into the conference room, never feeling completely at ease here. Especially not now. This was always “Ritchie’s world”. The whole of it.She stands awkwardly on the fringe of the room, not sure where to go or what to do with herself without Ritchie’s gentle guiding and whispered directions. One of the few times she'd allow herself to be the quiet withdrawn wife.
Footsteps break her thoughts just as she places her purse down and sinks into a chair near the door. Hoping that it isn’t one of the lads or worse, one of the other wives, she turns around slowly. She can’t stop a small sigh of relief when she sees it’s Mal.
The bouncer-turned-roadie has always been a sweet and reassuring figure in the craziness that had followed from the beginning. And now he’s an even more welcome presence.
“Thought I saw you slip in. I won’t ask how you are, because….well, how else can you be? Thought though, erm, you might want a cuppa or a hug or something?” Mal offers, leaning on the door frame.
Maureen jumps up and offers the first genuine smile she’s had in days. “ Thank you, for not asking. In truth I don’t know how I am- it changes from minute to minute. And, ta, but no, to the cuppa. But I’ll take the hug.”
Mal opens his arms and envelopes Maureen into a tight hug. She returns it as tight as she can , knowing that as big as Mal is, he's one of the softest hearted people she knows.
"Lily and me would've stopped by to visit, but it never seemed a good time. Lil sends her sympathies. Ritch was a good man, and I know no one can miss him like you do, but we all will." Mal starts to sound a bit choked up and again Maureen feels like she has to apologize for her husband's selfish act. But also it continues to add to this layer of confusion. How did he not know how loved he was? She's never been able to understand her husband's issues with insecurities - so many nights spent holding him close after he'd pushed his limit with the bottle and had been sick in the loo. Sometimes in their bed, often times on the tile floor. So many hours all told telling him, assuring him he was good enough, that she loved him, that others loved him. It makes her wonder if she hadn't told him enough. But now isn't the time for that.
She pulls back from Mal. "I am so very sorry, Mal." She whispers. A need to see the studio hits her. "Can you take me to the studio? I kind of want to see it. Just...I need to."
Mal nods, giving her a sad smile. "Come 'ead, Mo."
Maureen follows him out of the room, trying to keep her heart from racing. This isn't the first time she's seen the studio but again, she's always been with Ritchie. It's all so strange.
Silently she follows the roadie through the corridors, focusing on her breathing , trying to keep it steady and keep her thoughts at bay, wondering idly if she'll ever feel like a human being again, able to walk through corridors without a vague feeling of unease if they're too dark or quiet.
Thankfully the walk is fairly short or maybe the fact that she's been so focused on her breathing (the only real thing she got from India that's been of any use) and Mal ushers her inside the studio.
Nothing has changed physically since the last time she was there,some 8 odd months ago, but all the same, something feels off.
But everything feels off anymore.
With a deep breath and a determined nod, Maureen makes her way across to the kit, just needing to touch something of his that isn't associated with pain. Or at least seemed to bring him some sense of happiness.
She sits on the stool, lightly tracing her finger over one of the cymbals, not enough to make much sound, just needing to touch. "Y'know when the concert up on the roof happened, no matter how tense things were getting, with them lot, it was one of the best I'd seen since the Cavern days. Even better than the early touring days cause you could actually hear them. Everything was kind of put on hold for a bit. For all of them."
Mal nods , looking sad and lost. "It was. What I was able to witness, the cops were the first priority y’know. But what I got, damn, it were magical, no doubt.”
“They were.” Maureen nods, picking up a drumstick and idly tracing her fingers along the wood. “He always were so happy playin’, when it were all four, and they worked together like that. The few times I’d come watch, he was just so...centered. Some people find their happiness in silence, what they tried to teach us in India, but not Ritchie. Noise, and never quite sitting still, that’s where he found his peace. Even if he was doing summit like reading, he'd tap his fingers on something or twirl a pen in his fingers . If Ritchie were quiet or still or both, it always meant somethin’ was wrong" Maureen can't stop a small sniff, and she closes her eyes briefly against both tears and visions of her husband at his ultimate stillness that threaten to pop up.
Thankfully, as he's good at, Mal saves the moment. "I bet then our Rings is causing quite the racket up there. Making lots of music."
Maureen nods and gives the roadie a small smile . "You're probably right, Mal. Givin' them angels a taste of real music, yeah?"
Mal nods. "Come 'ead, we ought get back. They’ll all be here shortly."
With one last quick look around, Maureen follows Mal out of the studio, trying to keep the sheer dread she feels building at bay.
Title: From The Ashes
Pairing: Ultimately: Maureen/Cynthia.
Summary: After an unspeakable tragedy leaves her a young widow, Maureen works to re-build her life out of the shadow of her late husband, with the help of friends, family, and especially Cynthia.
Warnings: Major character death, self-harm and suicide, addiction, depictions of blood (later chapters).
Rating: R for subject matter.
Disclaimer : No harm meant, I own nothing, I know nothing, it's just a bit of "what if..."
Chapter 2 -The World Ain't Gonna Stop
Somehow, despite a part of her that wishes it hasn't, the world has kept turning. And the sun rises as it normally does and is flitting through the curtains . Maureen gives up on trying to sleep any longer. Not that she’s slept much anyway. She keeps thinking of her two boys, Zak and Jason, currently staying with her mother and father, back in Liverpool. They’ll be there until the service, in a few days. She has no idea how to explain to them- Zak just turned 4 and Jason just turned 2- that their father is dead. She’ll wrangle with the subject of suicide later on. Just letting them know their father is gone, the man they both looked up to and adored is no longer coming home...it’s painful to think of that. Anything more will crush her, she’s sure. At least right that moment.
Out of habit, not hunger, she pulls herself up from the sofa and makes her way to the kitchen. Kettle on, tea bags down from cupboard. Muscle memory is all she can rely on right now it feels like. Just doing the same things by rote. Despite not having even the slightest appetite, she puts two pieces of bread in the toaster to toast. Wondering idly when she’ll be able to feel even remotely like a human being again as she goes about putting out cream,butter and jam and honey on the kitchen table to join the sugar already there.
Pattie comes in about the time the kettle clicks off. “You’re up early.” She sounds worried but in that odd way that sounds like she wants to sound casual. It’s how just about everyone talks to her these days. It's starting to wear on her. She's not such a weakling that she'll just fall over into dramatic sobs at the slightest thing.
At least not where anyone can see her.
“I didn’t sleep so well.” Maureen shrugs and goes to get the kettle. There is so much she wants to say, but she doesn’t want to make her friend and hostess uncomfortable. “Decided to just get on up, be productive. Didn’t mean to wake you.” She pulls down two mugs and the box of tea bags. "Tea?"
"You didn't. I didn't sleep so well either. Nor George. And ,yes, please." Pattie sounds nervous, off in a way.
As Maureen prepares the tea, and the toast pops up, and she places more bread in, she is waiting for another shoe to drop. Once the tea has steeped enough, she carries over the mugs, sits them down and goes back for the plate of toast. "I'm not feeling like much to eat." She explains, starting to fix her tea.
"It's fine. I'm not all that hungry myself. I'll fix something for George later." Pattie draws a deep breath and bites her lower lip lightly before speaking. "Maureen... I... I told George last night...I...erm..I'd rather not go with you two to the meeting..."
Maureen just takes a sip of her tea and nods. "I understand. It's fine." She has been half-expecting this. She offers a wry smile. "If I didn't have to , I wouldn't either. Being with them lads together any more isn't my idea of fun- wasn't when Ritchie was still alive."
"It really is getting bad with them." Pattie nibbles on toast.
"Yeah. I hate watching it.” Maureen agrees. She spreads butter on her toast and nibbles on it . The two ladies eat in silence. Thick , uncomfortable silence. Maureen hurriedly finishes her toast and tea and stands up, silently gesturing to take Pattie's cup.
The blonde waves her off. " Don't worry about it. I'll clean up. "
"Ta." Maureen nods and smiles slightly. She grabs her pack of Larks,and a pack of matches needing a smoke but not wanting to spend too much longer in the kitchen, and makes her way to the back garden, noting the early Autumn chill but not really feeling it. She lights her match and then a cigarette, still amazed at how odd it feels to light her own. Not that Ritchie always lit hers, but as often as not he would. It's such a little thing. But all these little things are adding up. A long drag and a heavy sigh. This meeting is going to be torture. Another drag, then flicking ash to the container on the ground. Without Pattie, a "first" wife, to balance the "new" ones, she's going to feel off balance. Yoko will no doubt be there, and not having to be nice for Ritchie's sake, mixed with all the emotions she’s feeling at any given time and Maureen is very afraid she'll say the wrong thing. She's not all that keen on Linda- already the elder woman has started to act like a mother to her (the daily phone calls to check in are especially jarring) and it's just not what Maureen needs nor wants.
Another long drag. Still no calmer. And starting to feel the chill a bit. But no desire to spend more time inside the bungalow with Pattie alone. Or in general. She knows she can move back in to Sunny Heights so her time here is coming to an end. But she really isn't sure she's ready.
For not the first time, Maureen wishes that Cynthia were still around, that all ties hadn't been so severed. She'd be the helper that Maureen knows she needs. A calm, logical,guiding hand that isn’t taking over. And sympathetic but with a Northern edge. There has to be a way to get in touch with her, but she hasn’t a number or anything. And none of the lads would dare ask for her, she’s sure. The line in the sand had been very clearly drawn.
She gets a bit lost in her thoughts, that circle between missing Ritchie, being angry at him, and how much she wishes she knew how to reach Cynthia, finishing and extinguishing her first cigarette and starting a second. She needs to get dressed -the meeting is at two and she wants to get there early- but it’s hard to be motivated for something she doesn’t want to go to in the first place.
"Penny for your thoughts?" George's voice startles her.
"Christ! You scared me." Maureen only just manages to keep from dropping her cigarette. She turns to give him a wry grin. "Doubt the Queen herself has enough for these thoughts. " Another drag and ash flick.
George nods. "Thought I'd try.” He lights his own cigarette and takes a drag.
Maureen takes a few more drags off hers, trying to figure out how much she wants to let George in on. The silence between them is a bit more comfortable. Not ideal but better. She knows she doesn’t have to say much of anything to George. Which makes her more inclined to want to. “I was just thinking how quick everything changes. Not just Ritchie, but just so much. In a fairly little amount of time. In the two years since Brian’s died, so many new people came in our little world, so many have left.”
“Like Cynthia?” George asks.
“We were so close. Cynthia and I got on very well. And I don’t even know where to find her. She’ll hear about Ritchie like the rest of the masses. She don’t deserve that. She ain’t ‘one of the masses’. “ The Southern polishing has started to drop off her words, emotions getting control of them.
“No, no she’s not.” George agrees with a sigh. “Not at all.”
Maureen wants to ask if he knows how to get in touch with her but she highly doubts it. Instead she makes a small hum of agreement. She finishes her cigarette and extinguishes it. “I have to get ready. I’m going a bit early, try to beat the curious types. " The rumors are already starting to reach her ears. Part of this meeting is to figure out exactly how to address those rumors. Despite the efforts to be as discreet as possible, people have seen police cars and officers at homes, at Apple, at clubs and pubs . Someone caught the ambulance pulling up to Sunny Heights. When the remaining three show up at Savile Row and no fourth member them, rumors are going to start going as if someone poured 100s of liters of petrol on a wildfire.
"I don't suppose you want to show up with me." George offers. He lightly reaches out to give her a small shoulder squeeze.
"Without Pattie? The mills are going already, no need to stir it up more." Maureen turns to offer another half grin, surprised to find George’s eyes glassy with unshed tears. And the anger she feels at Ritchie bubbles up again. Didn't he give anyone but himself a moments thought? Deep down she knows he was one of the least selfish people she knew but he just got lost .But her immediate thoughts are anger. “I’m so sorry, George.” She goes back and squeezes his hand tightly.
“You needn’t be, Maureen.” George returns her hand squeeze and lightly kisses the back of it.
Maureen just sighs and nods as she withdraws her hand. She can’t help but feel she has to apologize for the actions her husband took. For not catching it, for going on a shopping trip for a dress she didn’t need, for trusting her husband alone despite two previous attempts to do what he finally managed to do.
For all the sadness and anger that hang over everything right now.
But she doesn’t explain any of that to George and instead just gives his hand one more tender squeeze and goes inside to get ready.
***
The phone call from George was certainly a surprise. Since her and John split, Cynthia's heard heard nothing from any of her ex-husband’s band mates except for one visit from Paul early on. But since she’s moved out of the greater London area, going back to Liverpool to get away from the whole scene (one too many dates that only wanted information about John or access to him put her off the whole of London and on a quest to straighten her head out first), nothing. That alone is tough, but who she misses most is actually Maureen. The pair of them got on very well, being young mothers and Northern plus the younger woman was just great fun, and comfort when things got rough.
But the bigger surprise, the far nastier one, was the revelation the Richard had taken his own life. He’d always been such a wonderfully easy-going soul, at least every time that Cynthia had spent time with him. A friendly, easy smile and manner to go with it. But, as she also knows from Maureen, that he had a deep fondness for the drink that got troubling at times. And her history with John alone is enough to know that people in private aren’t always who they seem in public.
But none of that matters now as Cynthia scrambles to get arrangements made for Julian with the child-minder, and prepares for the nearly three hour train ride from Liverpool to London. All she really cares about is getting to Apple to be there for her friend. As soon as the arrangements are confirmed and Julian is comforted with promises she’ll be back in a few days (and will bring pressies...he's still got some innocent little boy to him and nothing makes her happier than to indulge that side ) , she quickly packs a bag with enough clothing for a few days and waits for the driver who will take her to the Lime Street station, trying to keep her mind off the nervousness she feels nipping at her heels.
*****
Managing to slip in to Apple before any of the others can arrive, Maureen very quickly slips into the conference room, never feeling completely at ease here. Especially not now. This was always “Ritchie’s world”. The whole of it.She stands awkwardly on the fringe of the room, not sure where to go or what to do with herself without Ritchie’s gentle guiding and whispered directions. One of the few times she'd allow herself to be the quiet withdrawn wife.
Footsteps break her thoughts just as she places her purse down and sinks into a chair near the door. Hoping that it isn’t one of the lads or worse, one of the other wives, she turns around slowly. She can’t stop a small sigh of relief when she sees it’s Mal.
The bouncer-turned-roadie has always been a sweet and reassuring figure in the craziness that had followed from the beginning. And now he’s an even more welcome presence.
“Thought I saw you slip in. I won’t ask how you are, because….well, how else can you be? Thought though, erm, you might want a cuppa or a hug or something?” Mal offers, leaning on the door frame.
Maureen jumps up and offers the first genuine smile she’s had in days. “ Thank you, for not asking. In truth I don’t know how I am- it changes from minute to minute. And, ta, but no, to the cuppa. But I’ll take the hug.”
Mal opens his arms and envelopes Maureen into a tight hug. She returns it as tight as she can , knowing that as big as Mal is, he's one of the softest hearted people she knows.
"Lily and me would've stopped by to visit, but it never seemed a good time. Lil sends her sympathies. Ritch was a good man, and I know no one can miss him like you do, but we all will." Mal starts to sound a bit choked up and again Maureen feels like she has to apologize for her husband's selfish act. But also it continues to add to this layer of confusion. How did he not know how loved he was? She's never been able to understand her husband's issues with insecurities - so many nights spent holding him close after he'd pushed his limit with the bottle and had been sick in the loo. Sometimes in their bed, often times on the tile floor. So many hours all told telling him, assuring him he was good enough, that she loved him, that others loved him. It makes her wonder if she hadn't told him enough. But now isn't the time for that.
She pulls back from Mal. "I am so very sorry, Mal." She whispers. A need to see the studio hits her. "Can you take me to the studio? I kind of want to see it. Just...I need to."
Mal nods, giving her a sad smile. "Come 'ead, Mo."
Maureen follows him out of the room, trying to keep her heart from racing. This isn't the first time she's seen the studio but again, she's always been with Ritchie. It's all so strange.
Silently she follows the roadie through the corridors, focusing on her breathing , trying to keep it steady and keep her thoughts at bay, wondering idly if she'll ever feel like a human being again, able to walk through corridors without a vague feeling of unease if they're too dark or quiet.
Thankfully the walk is fairly short or maybe the fact that she's been so focused on her breathing (the only real thing she got from India that's been of any use) and Mal ushers her inside the studio.
Nothing has changed physically since the last time she was there,some 8 odd months ago, but all the same, something feels off.
But everything feels off anymore.
With a deep breath and a determined nod, Maureen makes her way across to the kit, just needing to touch something of his that isn't associated with pain. Or at least seemed to bring him some sense of happiness.
She sits on the stool, lightly tracing her finger over one of the cymbals, not enough to make much sound, just needing to touch. "Y'know when the concert up on the roof happened, no matter how tense things were getting, with them lot, it was one of the best I'd seen since the Cavern days. Even better than the early touring days cause you could actually hear them. Everything was kind of put on hold for a bit. For all of them."
Mal nods , looking sad and lost. "It was. What I was able to witness, the cops were the first priority y’know. But what I got, damn, it were magical, no doubt.”
“They were.” Maureen nods, picking up a drumstick and idly tracing her fingers along the wood. “He always were so happy playin’, when it were all four, and they worked together like that. The few times I’d come watch, he was just so...centered. Some people find their happiness in silence, what they tried to teach us in India, but not Ritchie. Noise, and never quite sitting still, that’s where he found his peace. Even if he was doing summit like reading, he'd tap his fingers on something or twirl a pen in his fingers . If Ritchie were quiet or still or both, it always meant somethin’ was wrong" Maureen can't stop a small sniff, and she closes her eyes briefly against both tears and visions of her husband at his ultimate stillness that threaten to pop up.
Thankfully, as he's good at, Mal saves the moment. "I bet then our Rings is causing quite the racket up there. Making lots of music."
Maureen nods and gives the roadie a small smile . "You're probably right, Mal. Givin' them angels a taste of real music, yeah?"
Mal nods. "Come 'ead, we ought get back. They’ll all be here shortly."
With one last quick look around, Maureen follows Mal out of the studio, trying to keep the sheer dread she feels building at bay.