Headstrong (A Benedict Cumberbatch Story)

Chapter 8

The next week went by incredibly slowly. I caught a horrific cold that kept me in bed the whole time. I received many get well messages, including one from Benedict:

Guess last week's night out really gave you the shivers! Get well soon :)

 I hugged my phone to my chest, those words going round and round in my head - accompanying the pounding headache. I drank so many cups of warm milk and honey that week I swear I felt like I should be in the promised land by Sunday. My head and throat cleared and I finally put the My Fair Lady DVD back on the shelf, after watching it repeatedly on my laptop. 

On Monday night after a normal dull day at work, I came home, had takeaway pizza and went straight back to bed. My busy day had exahusted me after a week of illness. And I do NOT regret my choice of going to bed...

"Maria?" he closed the front door and peered around in the darkness.

"SURPRISE!" Everyone shouted as he switched on the light. Benedict laughed as I put my arms round his waist. Our mouths touched very gently and I whispered,

"Happy Birthday." 

All the imaginary friends we had suddenly disappeared and I found myself in the bedroom, with Benedict sprawled across the pillows. 

"Is something wrong?" he said off-handedly as he took off his belt and swapped his dress shirt for a 'Bryan Adams Reckless' t. Shaking my head, I joined him and chucked a throw pillow onto the floor, out of my way. He ran his fingers up my arm, and planted a trail of kisses along my collarbone. I closed my eyes and waited to feel his warmth ontop of me. His arms snaked around me and held me close, his lips still pressed to my neck - 

- HISSSSSS. Benedict - the cat - was clawing at the carpet and running frantically round in circles at my bedroom door. Slowly, I climbed out of bed and held my arms out to him; he lept into them and went quiet, though I could still feel him trembling. With my own hands shaking, I reached for the door handle. Suddenly it burst open and there was Ellie, once again with makeup sitting halfway down her face after crying. I exhaled heavily, heart still pounding. 

"Ellie, what the hell? How did you even get in here?" I said softly, almost as if there was someone asleep I had to keep quiet for. Glancing at my bed, it was empty. No deliciously scruffy, sexy anyone sprawled across the pillows. 

"You're kitchen window was open so I went along the ledge from our flat," she explained, then wailed, "we had a fight and he stormed out." I threw another glance at the leftover pizza, then at Ellie's desperate expression.

"Tell me what happened." I sighed. 

I spent the next hour looking in Ellie's direction. I stopped listening about 15 minutes in, because even she couldn't really remember how they starting fighting and it all sounded the same to me anyway - particularly as it was punctuated by sobs every 4 seconds. She finished the pizza and a bottle of my wine all by herself. All I had to do was sit and seem sympathetic. The cat wasn't very impressed either. He sat upright on his cushion, slowly blinking his eyes in an unamused manner. 

When Ellie finally collapsed into crying again, I got her to stand up and led her back to her own apartment, sat her on her sofa with a rug round her shoulders, and quietly backed away. 

I returned to my own sofa and was just about to turn on the tv when I got a text from Benedict:

Come to the park down the road. Quickly

Sighing, I shrugged on a coat and slammed my door. He was going to try and tell me his side of the story and get me to talk to Ellie for him, I could tell. Mrs Golderoy was heaving herself and her little trolley up the stairs, and I managed to plaster a smile on my face just as she looked up.

"Hallo Maria, off out again? You came home this late last week! Having another crack at number 45 are you?" she winked, and I blushed.

"Please, Mrs Golderoy!" cackling quietly to herself, she patted my shoulder as she passed, and I jumped the rest of the rest of the stairs. Walking speedily down the street to the park, the sound of sirens reached my ears and a man came rushing up to me. 

"Are you Maria?" he said frantically, and I nodded hesitantly.

"Come on. Yours was the first name I saw in his phone, your messages were talking about meeting locally so I texted you." he put a hand on my back and walked me through the park gates.

"Who's phone? What's going on?" I said, getting scared.

"Benedict's phone. He ran right across my lane, I couldn't break in time - " the man started to explain, but at the word 'across' , my heart started thumping wildly and and I raced towards the little circle of fluorescent jackets. On a strecher in the middle, was exactly who I was expecting -and dreading - to see. 

Benedict.

With an oxygen mask covering most of his face, grazed skin and eyes closed, the one thing making him recognisable was his mop of chocolate brown hair. I through myself onto the ground beside him and my body started shaking. A medic knelt too and touched my arm. Her words were jumbled and distant, maybe it was a question, I don't know. All I knew was the man I loved was helplessly lying in front of me. 

 Half an hour later, my concept of time was questionable and I found myself sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, surrounded by blindingly white sheets and tiled floors, shoes squeaking and machines beeping. I kept my eyes fixed on his, willing them to open so I could see the blue that always made me smile. Slowly, my hand found its way to his face and I stroked his forehead, now decorated with stitches; my fingers played with the curl of hair always falling over his face. Suddenly my body was lent over his and our mouths were dangerously close. My other hand rested by his side on the mattress, and they brushed against his jeans pocket. There was something in it. Something undeniable. Carefully I took it out and sat it on the bed. 

It was like that deep red, velvet box was giving me the finger, telling me to go home and stay there. A lump formed in my throat. He was gone. I could never have him now. His jumper grew damp with my tears as I rested my head against his chest. It's uneven rising and falling gradually became a rhythm, which I closed my eyes and listened to. I dropped off. 

A sudden intake of breath startled me from my sleep, and I realised there was an arm around me. Moving my head, I saw that Benedict was still dead to the world - though not literally, thank GOD - but it was still his arm encircling me, comforting me. I shifted so that I could look at him properly. One last goodbye. I put my mouth to his and kissed him softly, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to commit this to my memory for good. 

Tearing my heart away as well as my lips, I stood up, tucked the offensive velvet box back into his pocket and put on my coat. After giving the receptionist Ellie's number so she could take care of Benedict, I hunched up my shoulders and stepped back out into the cold. 

No taxi would stop, no matter how manically I waved my arms. It's like they all knew what was happening to me and wanted to make it worse. No taxi. Ergo, I was walking home.

I turned the corner onto the main road, and the next obvious thing happened. It started to rain. Shivering, I half-ran the rest of the way home; I dragged my feet back up the stairs, not wanting to be alone in the lift for fear I start crying before I reach my sofa. The hallway was silent. I spotted a post-it-note on their door, with Ellie's scrawl all over it:

Benedict's in hospital, don't know when we'll be back. 

I knew I wouldn't be back here. Ever.