Unpredictable (Tom Hiddleston FanFic / Unexpected Sequel)

Work

The past week with Tom was a fairytale. Spending hours upon hours with one another. Nothing to do, but be with each other, and laugh. Every single moment of our first week in London, was perfect. I couldn't have picked a better word to describe it. Just perfect. Something about the London air, and Tom, that made me realize, I love my life.

Now, reality is setting in.

Tom was going back to work. He was trying our for a role in a movie. And for some odd reason, he was nervous. He has done this billions of times, why was he so tense?

He had stayed up all night, practicing his lines, studying the character. I had read over his lines with him about a billion times.

When I had finally got an ounce of sleep, I was awaken by Tom.

I sat up and looked at the time. It was only 3 in the morning.

I crept down the hall and saw Tom. He was sitting on the couch. His hands covered his face as he moved his fingers around his temples. He looked, stressed.

"Tom, is everything okay?" I whispered, walking over to him.

Once he heard my voice, he looked up to me. "Yeah, its just that I can't get these lines right, and I keep on having to start over. And I'm beginning to get a head ache."

I grabbed some aspirin and water from the kitchen and walked over to him. "Here. This will help, but you know what would also help?" I said.

He took the aspirin and guzzled a sip of water. "What?"

I rubbed his back. "Some sleep."

He sighed. "I know. But I just need to get these lines perfect. I need this part."

He was taking this really seriously. And he was a mess. I let his head fall onto my shoulder. "I think you will do great. But you need sleep. We will run through your lines once more tomorrow morning, before the try out."

He kept his head on my shoulder. "Okay. Thank you, Jessica."

I looked at him. "Tom, I don't understand. You've been an actor since you were in your 20s, you've been to hundreds of try outs and casting calls like this. Why are you so nervous? Why is this different than any other role?"

He sighed. "In the past, trying out for roles meant that... if I didn't get the part, I was just hurting myself. But now, that I have you, and those children, I have a bigger responsibility. Its not just me that I have to worry about. Its all of us. And its scary."

I understood where he was coming from now. It began to make sense, why he is so stressed. "Tom, we are going to be fine. You are such a talent. You are going to get that part. And if you don't, there are plenty more roles. Don't worry."

He grinned. "Do you think I'll get the part?"

I looked into his eyes. "You sure as hell deserve it."

He chuckled. "I love you Jess, now let's go to bed."

Before I could stand up, Tom swept me off my feet, and into his arms.

I laughed. "What are you doing?"

He looked at me. "You said you liked being carried. So I'm carrying you to bed."

-

-

The morning came quick, but Tom had finally gotten some sleep. And so did I.

We woke up together and ran though his lines as he got ready.

He nailed every line, every sentence, like it was his second nature.

He grabbed some coffee in a travel mug and kissed me. "I'll be home in a couple of hours, I'll call on my way back. I love you." He said quick.

I smiled. "I love you. And hey!.."

Before he left the house, he looked back at me.

"Break a leg." I said.

He smiled. And, to my surprise, he ran back to me and kissed me once more. "Thanks again for the help, Jessica." He said.

I grinned. "Anytime."

And with that, he was gone.

-

-

Tom was at work. Kate was at school. And I was alone once again.

It was kind of depressing, knowing that everyone was stepping up in the world. And I was holding back. No job, not since Tara died, no college degree. I was nothing.

And I didn't want to be those woman that use their husband. I didn't want to be a gold digger. I've always believed that if you work for something, it is worth much more than what is just given to you. And that's what I wanted. I wanted something to feel good about.

I wanted to make something of myself. But I couldn't go back to school and be a mom. That was out of the question. And I couldn't have a full time job.

So what could I do? As I thought to myself. I glanced over at the babies furniture in the corner of the room. It was still not put together. We were waiting for the paint to dry, and then we never did it.

I studied the pieces. "The crib, the changing table, the bookcase..."

Then, a crazy idea popped into my head. I walked over to the bookcase.

Write. Write a book. That is what I could do.

All my life, I have wanted to be a writer. I was a great writer in high school I have always been great with words. So putting them down on paper, would be the easy part.

I quickly walked to my room, and grabbed an old notebook and pen from my desk, where I kept my keepsakes of Tara and Alexis. When I thought of them, another idea popped in my head.

I should write about my life. About my life with Tom, with Kate and Tara, and Alexis. How they changed me. How I turned my life around, because of my saviors.

I began writing. And every word came from my heart. Every sentence flowed onto the paper, straight from what i was thinking. Like I have had the book in my mind already, I just needed to copy it down on paper.

-

-

As I continued my rough draft. My phone began ringing. It was Tom. I glanced over at the clock. 3 hours had passed. I didn't even notice. I got caught up in writing.

I answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hello Darling. On my way home now. See you in a bit." Tom said sweetly.

"Okay. I'll see you soon, drive safe." I said.

His voice came over the phone once again. "I always do, I love you."

"I love you too." And I hung up.

When I looked back to my notebook, I had written over 5 pages of paragraphs and sentences.

As I read it over. I was impressed with myself.

For a rough draft, it actually came out good.

I was kind of nervous to tell Tom, or to show him my work. But I was excited, because I had something, that could be big one day. It could be published. And I would be the owner. The one who worked for it. It felt pretty good to think about.

I closed my notebook and tucked it away into my desk.