Benedict's POV

1 MONTH LATER

I'm taking her to the premiere of Star Trek: Into Darkness, and she's wearing a dress that would look no more beautiful on any other woman. I scowl when she stands in front of the bathroom mirror with powder in her hand, but I know that I can't say anything. Instead I dress.

We make our way there in a black limousine, and her hands are shaking slightly. I hold them still, and feel her body relax. Jesus, the first time in front of the public eye, of course she's nervous. Obviously I know she shouldn't be, because she looks fucking gorgeous as she always does, and we're going to speed through the red carpet in case of any fan emergency or interviewers. But I also know she's excited: she's a Trekkie over Star Wars, and she told me that she grew up with the classic Enterprise series. I hope she likes it.

The vehicle stops, and I look over at her face. She's smiling, slightly faking it, but that might be because I've seen her real smile so much. The door is opened by a footman, and I step out, but ensure that I help Ayla out of the car. The screams begin and I hear accumulated gasps from fans. I hold her hand, and it's no longer shaking. She's shaken the fear off, or she's hiding it successfully. I look over to her face, beaming, this time truly, as she sees the posters adjourned with non-hatred and "Welcome Benedict's girlfriend!" or "Mystery girl?"

As we walk further down the red carpet, towards the brand-screens, she grips my hand tighter.

"Don't answer anything you don't want to,"

"That'll be everything then," she jokes. I greet a few interviewers, not as many as I usually would, and answer a couple of questions to each.

We arrive at the brand-screens, and the photographers begin their usual hassling. She smiles graciously, and although nervous, the camera seems quite natural to her. We walk off after a few photos are taken together, some with me and fellow castmembers, one of her and Zoe Saldana, and she nearly trips over a bunched up piece of carpet. The room is silenced, but she laughs and says "Oops!" and the entire room bursts into laughter. Wow, she's amazing. I don't see many people react so naturally to a potentially embarassing situation such as that, and she's still giggling when we enter the theatre.

We sit in a row with JJ and the main characters, and Ayla is seated between Zoe and I. After the small talk with everyone else, Zoe grabs her attention. Now they've been talking for what seems like hours. No one else can get to speak to Ayla, so my conversations are basically transfers: people trying to get to know about her through me.

The film begins, and everyone claps.

"I've never clapped in the cinema before, it feels strange," Ayla whispers. I laugh.

At the end, Zoe and Ayla exchange contact details. I know that they will be close. I loved making this film, and seeing everyone makes me see everyone's complete dedication and devotion towards it. Every one of us adores the franchise, and the final result was incredible. God, I'm going to miss everyone.

I meet more people, producers, soundtrack composers, congratulating everyone. I meet the visual director, Marcus, who the cast and JJ had been weary of during the filming. He took control over the entire set, changing our costumes or being slightly ignorant, like when he asked Alice Eve to lose weight because "it would make the size contrast more effective" or something like that. God, I wanted to punch him in the face.

We shake hands, and during the handshake, he's staring at Ayla like she's a toy.

I furrow my eyebrows in anger, cautious of what he's thinking.
"Wasn't it great?" he proudly says, to me I think, but his eyes are still fixated on Ayla.

"It was. Congratulations,"

"For what? It was mediocre visually, don't you agree? Well, compared to my other films." God, I bet he says that every bloody time. Trying to big himself up.

"I thought it was enchanting visually," Ayla defends us from him, unaware that Marcus is the visual director, and is therefore giving him a compliment. Though I agree, he did a good job, just in a horrible way.

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. It was almost regretful." How dare he address her like that?! I attempt to hide my fury.

JJ catches my eye and calls me over.

"I'll be there in a moment!" I reply, taking Ayla's arm. "Well thank you again. We'd best be off."

"Hold on! I'll just have a chat with Ayla here, whilst you speak to him." I begin to refuse, but JJ is coming over, and bodies are moving everywhere. Before I know it, Ayla's several feet away.

"Benedict, wow. Wasn't it spectacular? You were awesome, as I knew you'd be."

Ayla's POV

I catch Benedict's eye as we're whisked away from each other. I begin to walk towards him, but the man we were just speaking to shouts over the thunderous noise.

"I know you. Oh, how could I ever forget that face?" He's not looking at my face though, he's burning his stare through my clothes. I redden, with embarrassment, with anger. I glance over in Benedict's direction, asking for help, but I don't see him.
"Oh yes. You were wonderful my sweetheart. We had a great night, one of the best nights of my life." I'm still confused. What is he talking about? But then it hits me: it was him that lay under the blankets, the face I'd happily forgotten.

"But you left in the morning, didn't you?" He takes my wrist tightly, his grimy fingernails cutting into my skin. "You didn't kiss me goodbye. Shall we finish that now? Come on, babydoll. He's not looking." His head advances, and I pull away, struggling to break free. I glance over at Benedict, but there are more people now than ever. He's getting too close, invading my space, and I start to panic.

My breathing quickens, my head throbs.

Before I can register change, I feel a body move between me and the man, separating us. His hand is still latched onto my wrist, and my skin's broken. I close my eyes, dizzy.

I'm swept away, my wrist in moderate pain, and hurried out, into the cold, back into the heat, and out again, finding myself sat on a leather seat.

I open my eyes again, and I can just make out blood dripping from my wrist onto a piece of cotton, and cold tears paving their way down my face. I look over to a dark-skinned hand, treating my cuts, and work my eyes up to a familiar face.

Zoe. Zoe took me from that man.

"Are you okay?" She's finished tending to me, and wraps her arms around me. She lets me go and dots my face with a tissue. I realise that I'm still crying and shaking.

"Ssh, ssh, everything's fine. You're safe."

"Benedict," I find myself straining my voice to make out his name.

"Oh, I forgot. I'll phone him." I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down.

"Hello, Benedict?" Zoe's voice is urgent. "I've got her. Yup, she's with me. I'm going to take her to my hotel room and make sure she's okay." She nods, though she's on the phone. "Yes, yes. Of course. I'm staying at Claridge's. Yep. Sure. That should be fine." I stare out of the window, my face reflecting in the glass. I'm not red whatsoever, actually very white, but I feel like my blood is the temperature of magma, heating my face like a volcano about to erupt. "She's safe. I have security. She's safe." I notice a chauffeur and a bulky man sitting adjacent to him in the front of the car. I'm worried about Benedict. "Bye."

Does he know who that man is? Do I want him to know?

"Ayla, we're going to get him. It's going to be perfectly fine." I nod, and we arrive at the hotel.

I'm sitting in her hotel room, in an armchair by the window. Zoe has given me a glass of water and a bar of chocolate, but I haven't touched either. I watch her pace up and down the room, occasionally picking up ornaments and studying them, before quickly setting them down again.

The phone rings, and she scrambles to answer.

"Yes. Yes. Let him come up, for tripe's sake." She muffles the receiving end of the phone with her hand and asks: "Do you want any tea?" I nod, and picks up the phone again. "Could we also have a pot of tea? Ta."

When Benedict arrives, he gets over to me in a flash and picks me up, my legs dangling over one muscular arm. He kisses my face and my hair, and I can't focus on anything but his strong, dark eyes, searching mine.

I'm now sitting cross-legged on the queen-size bed, melting a piece of chocolate in my mouth, listening to Zoe and Benedict chattering away.

"I hated that guy from the start,"

"So did I," Zoe agrees.

"Pete says he'll file a restraining order. It's bloody disgusting. It's disgusting. Why on earth did I leave you?"

"It wasn't your fault," I interject, calm now.

"It was. I knew there was something more about him. God dammit. Thank you Zoe, you're amazing. Jesus, if you hadn't been there-"

"Let's not talk about that." Zoe interrupts. "You need to calm down Ben."

"If I had him now…" he looks over to me. "God, I'm sorry." His voice is softer, more natural, and he walks over, taking me in his arms. It's ridiculous how safe I feel here.