Beautiful Scars

Another night out, another dance floor.
Ben didn’t understand why he didn’t enjoy the last few weeks. He had done nothing but talk with the biggest celebrities, get free products and services, make eyes at beautiful women in short skirts, and drink top shelf bourbon. A few months ago, this was a lot more fun. But since he became – as others described it – the “hottest” new actor in Britain, he found that nights out, women, and people in general where getting more difficult to handle. It was stressed now. People tried to impress him, tried to connect with him, and tried to be friendly. Not that this was a bad thing, to be sure, but they were all just trying to hard. Back in uni, he could disappear in a room and just… be. “Fame has stolen that now,” Ben thought to himself. Fame cost. Everything.
“Ben!” Martin exclaimed as he rushed from the dance floor. “It’s fantastic out there! This has got to be the best cast party Sherlock has had in a long time!” Benedict noted the red tinge to Martin’s cheeks and nose, as well as his slight swaying motion. He loved to see Martin so loosened up… typically, he was the solemn one out of the duo. The two had formed a solid friendship behind the scenes of Sherlock, which Benedict was grateful for. Martin had been such a help to him throughout his recent journey to the center of attention. But now, the man was looking excited to tell Ben something. “So, news. Amanda and I… oh man! Have you seen her? Good Lord. I’m a horrible man, loosing my lady… AMANDA!”
Ben was left standing by the bar once more as Martin left in search for “his lady”. As he disappeared into the darkness of the black and blue lit bar, Ben contemplated what his friend had just said. Whatever the mysterious news was that Martin was about to reveal was anyone’s guess, but Ben had an idea. He was happy for the couple, and hoped his suspicions were true.
Dressed in a well-fitted dark grey suit, Mr. Cumberbatch was all that anyone could hope for. His hair, dyed in a Sherlockian fashion, was large and curly, despite the copious amount of product he had put in it. His face was natural and free of makeup, which he was grateful for after the last few days of shooting. He had joined his friends and coworkers at the Gazelle Bar in London for a celebration… only one month until the final episode of season three was finished shooting. “One month. One more month!” Ben thought. He didn’t know what to feel… relief, sadness, happiness – there were things he would miss, and some he wouldn’t. But for now, he had time, a tiny moment of privacy, and a Rum and Coke.
That tiny moment of privacy was ripped to shreds after a song had finished on the dance floor. Ben, now perched on a bar stool, was met by a small hand with a drink and a high-pitched voice.
“Ben! It’s Ben, right? Cumdersnatch?” she half yelled over the din. “Want a drink? Maybe some talk? Maybe more?” She quickly sat to his left and flashed him a drunken wink. Her dress was red, with large black jewels, which matched her hair, lining the deep V cut on the front. Not only was the dress unbearably short and her heels incredibly high, but the large V ran down to her belly button, exposing large amounts of skin. She slowly slid the drink in front of him, and rested her hand on his thigh. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She leaned forward in her drunken stupor…
“Ah! There he is!” Ben heard, much to his relief. He was quickly becoming aware that women looked to get with him not because of who he was as a person, but his fame. “It’s sad,” he thought to himself.
Olivia. She had known him. But they were just friends now, after a year of mending. The spilt was a mutual decision, as both had discovered that they wanted different things. She had moved on, and so had he. But now that his bachelor status was emphasized to all of his… Cumberbitches (he outwardly cringed at the term), women were forward. VERY forward. And Ben hated it.
Steven Moffat sauntered over to the couple at the bar. The lady in red, even in her intoxicated state, realized her moment was blown to bits. She quickly retracted her hand and stomped off, giving Steven a most deadly glance.
“Steven. What excellent timing. Thank you.” Ben said seriously. He pushed the lady’s forgotten drink towards his rescuer. “I got you something. For rescuing me,” he laughed.
“Happy to help. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten kidnapped by one of them yet. But I’m afraid you’re not going to like me for very much longer.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m going to talk about work. About this month. It’s big. There are unusual things coming up, and I want to run some plans by you. I understand if you’d rather not, with the party and all.”
Typically, Ben would have rather waited and enjoyed the festivities. But given his unusually serious mood as of late, the idea of talking about work didn’t bother him.
“Sounds fine to me. Can we move to a more… quiet place?” The loud music was suddenly more upbeat and decidedly Latin. A man and woman, dressed entirely in white, were dancing a complex salsa in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a ring of spectators. They kicked, dipped, and jumped to the rhythm of the music. Ben wished he could be that free and fun. The people clapped and pointed at the pair as they moved with great smiles on their faces.
“Of course! Follow me.” Steven led Ben to a large balcony area opposite of the dancers. Ben was slightly sad that he had to stop watching the salsa, but soon focused on his producer’s words.
“So we’re almost there. So close. But this last bit of filming is going to be a new challenge for you. Ready for it?’
Ben promised that he was, and Steven told him about what to expect over the coming days. The final scenes were to be filmed on sight at Stonehenge. Sherlock, in his super sleuthing, would discover a fifty-year-old body of a relative that was newly reburied in the archeological site. “Given all this information,” he finished, “I’m going to set you up with a tutor of sorts to teach you all the ins and outs of archeological digging. This must look as real as possible, with no amateur actions. Genuine.” Ben understood. This sort of tutoring happened a lot. He had been taught how to fight realistically, play the violin like a pro, and even sail a ship for the sake of his roles.
“I’m in. When does this all start?” Ben asked.
“Well, right now, if you’d like. The guy I had in mind is here tonight… let me get him!” Steven, not wanting to waste anytime or any of Benedict’s agreeable attitude, set off to find the man. Ben was alone again. For a few moments, he gazed at the glittering London night set beyond the balcony. He’d always had a feeling of God existing, but never really connected with Him. But this sight… it was enough to make Ben send a quick note of awe and thanks. The Eye, the Palace… the solitude. It was a good change.
Steven quickly returned with a short elderly man with thick glasses. “Benedict, meet Mr. Kareall. He is the top archeologist at Cambridge, and he is going to be one of your new friends.” The little man quickly grabbed Ben’s hand.
“Pleased, sir. Although I must admit that I’m no longer the tip top at the uni, but I’m up there.” He was nice, Ben decided. His small frame was dressed in a light twill suit and red tie. His hair was white and hung like a cloud around his ears and under his nose. His hands, marked with liver spots and calluses, revealed his old age and profession.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kareall.” Ben returned. “How did you and Steven meet? It seems he knows everyone!”
“Steve and I go back a very long time. His father was one of my good friends. I’ve seen this man grow… I could tell you stories of him in his nappies!” he laughed. His small brown eyes creased with a proud smile.
“Now, let’s save those for another time, Ralphie,” Steven said firmly. He was down to business. “I’ve told Benedict of the plans for these next few weeks. He’s agreed and I’m sure has questions for you. But first, when will you be able to start? I don’t mean to rush you… but I do.”
The little man took off his glasses and cleaned them with his tie, as if he was contemplating something. As he put them back on, he looked back to Steven. “Well, I’ve been thinking, Steve. I have a better idea, if you’ll take it.” Steven was on the edge of his seat, bordering on frustration and love as he looked at his old friend.
“As I’ve said,” Mr. Kareall continued, “I’m not the top at Cambridge anymore. Well, in regards to titles, I am. But I’ve been mentoring a graduate student for the past six years. Marvelous, this one. Simply fantastic. And given my old age, I don’t think I can be quick enough for you. But I have a student who is. And is better, I may add. I’d like to shift this responsibility to a person I trust.”
Upon hearing this, Steven perked up. “I’m sad that you won’t be working with us, but if this other person is ready, I trust this change. Who is this guy?”
“Wait here,” Kareall said with a glint in his eye. He left and walked… hobbled, Ben noted, towards the dance floor. It was a shame, he admitted, that he wouldn’t be working with the elderly man. He reminded him of his own grandfather.
Ben and Steven engaged in light conversation about the evening as they waited. Benedict was itching to ask about the nappy stories mentioned earlier, but just as he was going to say something, Kareall returned with an even smaller person trailing behind him.
“Gentlemen, meet Athena. Athena Congeth.” The young woman stepped out from behind her mentor to shake hands with the two men. She shook each firmly with a smile and slight head nod.
Benedict studied the short woman as she stepped back to Kareall’s side. She had brown hair that was slightly awry and windswept in its long curly style. Her small heart face had a slight flush to it, which brought out her green eyes. She was incredibly thin and tan, which Ben assumed came from long hours in the sun and hard work rather than a gym and salon (much like other women). Her long fingers were callused and hard, much to Ben’s surprise… it seemed that this fairy of woman should have soft hands.
She was unlike any woman he’d met recently. She wasn’t painted up with gregarious amounts of makeup, and didn’t hold any airs. She was natural in every respect. He felt like he had seen her before, somewhere.
“Now, I must inform you –“ Kareall began. Before he could finish, however, Athena shot her hand to his arm with a smile. She pointed to herself and handed a small piece of paper to Steven. Benedict was rightly confused at this action, and waited for Steven to finish reading the paper. After a moment, the producer smiled and handed the paper to Ben. He quickly read the squiggly handwriting.

Hello! It’s nice to meet you. My name is Athena, as you already know. I would love to say this out loud, but am currently unable to at the moment. Due to some scary situations in the current months, I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This has resulted in me loosing my voice (if you happen to find it, let me know). So, I promise I’m not being rude. Just… quiet. Thanks for understanding!

Benedict was stunned. To think that this woman had gone through something so bad as to loose her ability to speak! What happened? He quickly met Athena’s gaze and smiled. She happily returned it with bright eyes. “She seems so happy,” he thought. But as he handed the paper back to her, he suddenly saw them. Scars covered her skin. Her left eye had a scar that ran diagonally from just above her eyebrow to her cheek. Her right jaw line had a scar too. A white, one shoulder linen dress showcased three scars, side by side, on her shoulder. Finally, the slight pouf of the skirt, which ended just above her knees, allowed for a view of a very large scar in a half moon shape on her left calf.
He must have been staring a bit too long, for Steven loudly cleared his throat to bring Ben out of his trance. Embarrassed, he scrambled to recompose himself. “Nice to meet you too!” he quickly blurted out. Kareall laughed good-naturedly and spoke to Steven.
“Athena and I talked earlier for the sake of time. She communicates by writing.” Ben glanced again at Athena. As soon as they made eye contact, she gently shrugged her shoulders and smiled brightly at him as if to say “It sucks, I know.” He smiled, enjoying her bubbly nature. Her skin acquired a slight pink tinge.
“Athena has agreed to tutor Mr. Cumberbatch on all things archeological. She, in fact, has just started working the Stonehendge site. She’s marvelous at it too!” He gently touched her shoulder. Ben noticed a slight twinge of pain on her features. “She’s the director there. I’m confident in her and her abilities. What do you say?” Steven was met with the man’s hopeful look.
“It’s a go from me. Ben?” he asked.
“Why not?” Ben thought. “Absolutely!” he answered.
Athena beamed, as Kareall took her hands. “I couldn’t think of anyone more worthy, my dear,” he softly said. She silently hugged him and kissed his cheek. Ben watched the sweet gesture and realized that the two had a very strong bond. He couldn’t wait to get to know this woman - smile, scars, and all.