Strawberry Wine (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fic)

Prologue

Tom's POV

Present Day...

I keep driving down the same dirt road, realizing that I don't remember things like I thought I would. Though it'd been over 10 years since I was last here, I had the erroneous feeling that I would just recognize it on sight. I pull off to the side of the road and grab my cell phone to call up a map.

A truck pulls along side my sports utility, dust rising in a disorganized cloud around both vehicles.

The driver, a man in his early thirties, I would guess, gestures for me to roll down my window.

"You lost, sir?" he asks.

I feel old, I think at this stranger's use of "sir." Though I know it's common courtesy in this part of the States to say "sir" and "ma'am", it still hits my ego and makes me question the reason I'm back here in Wyoming. Am I just trying to recapture my lost youth or is it something more?

"I'm not sure," I say both to the stranger and myself, looking at my phone only to realize I have no signal. I sigh before looking up to meet the stranger's eyes through our rolled-down windows. "Do you happen to know where the Sinclair ranch is?"

The stranger studies me for a moment as if sizing me up before nodding his head.

"I do. I'm headed there myself, in fact, if you'd like to follow me," he says as a glimmer of recognition forms in his eyes. I assume he's recognized me, though he doesn't say a word as he rolls up his window before pulling away.

I do the same as I put my vehicle in gear and follow the stranger.

"Well, here goes nothing," I whisper to myself as we continue down the dirt road.

2009...

"I've ridden horses before. I mean, it's not like I'm a city slicker," I say to John Sinclair.

John was hired to work with me and a few other principles on our riding skills. I've traveled to California for this, and now John wants me to visit his horse ranch in Wyoming. The only things I know about Wyoming are Old Faithful and the big rock monolith from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

"I didn't call you a city slicker. First, I'd never use those words - you've been around Hollywood types for too long. If I thought you couldn't ride, I'd tell you straight up. And second, I wouldn't be asking you to come to the ranch if I didn't think it would do you some good."

Benedict Cumberbatch watches us but doesn't offer any commentary. Take Ben, I think. After all, he's clearly the one afraid of horses.

Ben smirks as I look at him as if reading my mind. In truth, I know I'm a little timid when riding, and I also know how important this film is to me and my career. I can't let Steven Spielberg down given that War Horse is sure to be a hit.

I shake my head then find myself nodding in agreement.

"Okay... when do we leave?"