Benedict Cumberbatch and the Bodyguard

Secuirty

I'd been home from the hospital a few days, waiting. Waiting for what? I wanted to get back to work, forgetting the events that led to the stiches below my collarbone. Soon it would be time to change my bandage. I dreaded peeling the tape off. Non-stick my ass. It hurt like a son of a bitch every time I had to peel it off.

A knock at the door distracted me from my grim task. "What?" I growled.

My flat mate's muffled voice echoed back at me. "There's someone here to see you."

"Tell them to go away."

"I think you're going to want to see this one."

I jerked open the door. "I don't care if it's the frigging Queen, tell whoever it is to piss off."

My roommate laughed. "You don't care about the Queen?"

"To quote Whoopi Goldberg, 'I don't give a shit about the Queen.'."

"Jumpin Jack Flash, a great flick."

Oh shit, I'd know that voice anywhere.

Benedict stood before me smirking, trying not to laugh. "I'll give your regards to the Queen, next time I see her."

I started laughing, then winced. "I'm sorry, come on in."

Benedict edged into the room, making my tiny studio flat seem ever more so. I looked around in a panic, glancing around for a place to sit. "I'm sorry. The place is a mess." I pulled up a plastic lawn chair, removing the pajama top, that draped over the back, one sleeve extending to the floor.

Benedict sat down and to his credit didn't dust off the seat. He looked up at me smiled, then held out a to go hot cup. "I brought you some tea."

I reached out to take it, then stopped when my stiches pulled. Benedict jumped up and came to my side. "Here let me help you."

"No, no, that's okay. I'll just take it with my left hand." Feeling, like I'd fallen down a rabbit hole, I took the cup and sat down on the edge of my bed. We sat facing each other in silence, the vapors from the tea, leaving beads of humidity on my upper lip. "Oh, thank you for the flowers."

Benedict looked down, then back up at me. "I had my assistant send them."

I studied him a moment or two. He seems nervous, but that can't be right.

"However, I felt... I mean... I wanted to. I'm at a loss for words. How can I ever thank you?"

Hmm, I'm sure I could think of something. "It's fine. It's my job to protect the client. I mean you're more than a client. I think of you as an acquaintance, or maybe you know a friend. I mean..." My phone dinged, saving me from further embarrassment.

"Do you need to get that?"

I shook my head. "No, it's just a reminder. It's time to change my bandage. I need to get my roommate."

"Oh, he left." Benedict said, then gestured towards the door. "Maybe I can still catch him?"

"No, don't bother. He's long gone. I can manage." I wandered towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back," I called out over my shoulder. The bandage came off with minimal effort. I washed off the area. I look like something from a Tim Burton movie. I started humming Sally's Song, then stopped when I thought about the lyrics. And will we end up together? No, I think not, it's never to become, for I am not the one. My hands shook. I swore.

"Charlotte, I've taken first aid. Here, let me help you." Without a word, he took out a pair of gloves from a box on the sink, grabbed one of the bandages, then put some tape around it. "Is this okay?"