Benedict Cumberbatch and the Bodyguard

Facade

I prowled around the set in a circle, feeling irritated and ill at ease. Sleep had eluded me and my night sweats had returned. I would be glad when this whole job ended. Ben caught my eye and I smiled. The smile didn't reach my eyes and Ben knew. He always knew. Don't pity me, Ben. I don't want to see those green eyes filled with sorrow. I looked up and made a quick detour. Shit here comes Simmons.

Though I made my escape, I still caught has parting shot. "What's the matter, Anderson? Still looking for Mr. Cumberbatch's enemies, or groups of deranged fans. Look in the mirror, Anderson, maybe it's you."

I shivered, then looked around. Is that what everyone thinks, that I am somehow involved? What if they think it's me? What if I lose my job and can't prove my innocence? How will I pay my bills? I won't be able to find work. What if I go to jail? In England, it's guilty until proven innocent, right? What are prisons like here? Do they still lock people away in the tower of London? Round and round my thoughts ran amuck throughout the day, torturing me. A chair scraped the ground and I skittered away from the sound, my shoes clattering on the cobblestones like a horse driven wild by fear. For Christ's sake, Charlotte, get a grip. I signed out for my break, then found someplace quiet. Away from the maddening crowd.

I plopped down on a bench, then lay back, staring at the grey sky. The general consensus was that Ben's crazy stalker had been scared off when Page had been pulled in for questioning, but I wasn't convinced. Thank god, shooting wrapped up today. Ben and the others would have a press conference, then it would all be over. I had some personal time built up. Maybe I would go on vacation. I shuddered at the thought of being alone with my thoughts.

"Ten Dollars for your thoughts."

I smiled. "So, how much would a penny be worth?"

Ben laughed. "One word and it has to be a good one."

I crinkled my nose, losing myself in the game. "Just one word?"

He looked back at me. "Only one word."

"Will I be punished if I say two words?" As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. Oh shit, it sounds like I'm flirting.

He looked down at my flushed face, then sat down beside me, not saying a word.

Why isn't he talking? Say something. Phone ring please. I glanced sideways at him. His hands stayed clasped, fingers entwined together, his gold wedding band gleaming through the muted daylight. Then someone motioned him towards the set.

Oh, thank the gods, I'm saved.

He stood up. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

I nodded, watching him. He gave me a small wave, then walked away.

Hey, wait. I 've got a word—invisible—stupid—shit. Okay, so my word for the day is shit.

I pulled out a cheese stick from my pocket, nibbling on it, afraid I would choke when the dryness of it touched my dry, swollen throat. Disgusted with myself, I pinched it into little bits, throwing it to a small group of sparrows. They chittered around, in excitement, pecking and fighting at their unexpected treasure. I smiled. Maybe, my word should be unexpected.

Once back on the set I looked around. The walls that looked like something from a gothic Victorian mansion, were just slabs of drywall, created to fool the viewer. Bricks, were paint, not stone, wallpaper a graphic print out, not silken threads— all fake, all a sham. I would leave the set and Ben behind. Tonight, I would stand guard, while flashbulbs lit up the actors' smiling faces, their eyes never revealing what lay behind each blank expression.

Several hours later I stood scanning the crowd. Some of the reporters and guests had been cleared, yet we remained on alert. Ben stood up and spoke about the upcoming film, his silken toned voice hypnotizing the crowd.

I squinted, attempting to avoid spotlight blindness. Damn, didn't anyone talk to the crew? There's supposed to be a dimmed perimeter, so we can see. As if they heard my thoughts, the lights dimmed in submission. That's more like it. I then looked at the faces I had memorized. Most were still right where I had seen them last, demonstrating the law of inertia at its best. I blinked. Wait, everything is not as I remember. Who is that? I stared at a young woman, whom I'd not noticed before. Dark curls framed her perfect oval face and she observed Ben—enraptured. I smiled. I can't blame her. He, looks gorgeous in his Armani suit, telling all of us about his character in the upcoming film.

I relaxed. Everything's going to be okay. I glanced over at the woman again, noting the way she leaned her head back, her fingers trailing down her body in erotic swirls. She looks like she's going to get off in front of the whole crowd. Jesus, enough is enough. Then her head snapped forward. My shoulders tightened in response. Her cupid-like expression hardened in determination. Therefore, is cupid's arrow painted blind.

I tapped my ear piece. "Can anyone hear me? There's something wrong." A burst of static whined back at me, making me gasp. I tore out the ear piece and ran for the stage, shouting, "Get down."

I dove in front of Ben, surprising his private body guard, then something metal impaled itself into my chest and I sank to the ground. Oh god, Sherlock was right. It's the landing that's going to kill me. Screaming, I hear screaming. Is it me? Where's Ben, is he okay?

I looked up, just in time to see him whisked away. He didn't come back for me, shouting. "Somebody help me, save my bodyguard." Oh god, I'm going to bleed out alone.

"Anderson, stay with me. Come on, goddammit, Charlotte come on..."

The voice faded away, sirens wailed in the distance. I looked down, then began to shake. Jesus, the bitch shot we with an arrow. Oh god, it hurts and I'm so cold. My eyes began to close, willing my shocked body into submission.

Then I heard the pop, of a weapon being discharged and dark cupid fell to the ground. I looked into her eyes, then she smiled. She's happy not to be invisible. My legs shook and darkness engulfed me.

I wish I could say I heard a choir of angels, saw a bright light, a tunnel, my grandma or my cat nubbins, but the truth is I saw nothing until the time I opened my eyes, and found myself in a hospital room.

I can't describe the pain I felt. Labels like hero just don't matter when you've been injured. No one tells of the nightmares that follow. Still I lived through it and that is something, but more important than my own survival is the fact that I got the opportunity to save someone I cared about—Ben.

I looked around. Flowers filled the room. God, the stench is overwhelming. A nurse came in just as I sneezed.

She smiled, bringing in yet another vase of flowers. "Here's another one."

I returned her smile. This whole shit storm wasn't her fault and it seemed a shame to piss on her day. "Who's this one from?"

Her smile faded, replaced by a look of wonder. "Ooh, it's from the Batch."

I laughed, trying to keep her from detecting the slight tremor in my voice. "Let's see it."

She handed me the card and I read it, pouring over every word as if it were sacred texts from the holy bible. Dearest Charlotte, words cannot express what you've done. Thanks to you I will get to experience life to its fullest, living to see my children grown. Love Always, Ben.

The nurse cleared her throat, no doubt disappointed that I didn't read it aloud. "I need to change your morphine drip now."

I looked at her, feeling certain that my dry eyes were bloodshot. "Sure, whatever."

She changed the bag. "Nice note?"

I sighed, deciding to give her a break and read the note aloud.

"Love always, Ben. Well, at least you'll have something pleasant to remember from the horrid experience."

I nodded, not having the nerve to tell her that the note wasn't his handwriting. Then I closed my eyes, waiting for the drugs to kick in.