It felt like an eternity of waiting, just listening to the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his head between his ragged breaths, but soon the footsteps came again. For the past three hours Tom had isolated himself away from existence in the hope that he would find peace, and safety, hidden beneath his bed covers. However, his isolation didn't last long before his mind started to play games with him, and like the regular ticking of a well-oiled clock, panic soon followed. Every heartbeat he heard as a footstep of an attacker coming closer, walking outside in the corridor, creeping into his bedroom, pacing around the bed, waiting to strike. Every noise became his enemy, in the same instance that he heard every breath he took as the drawing of a gun, the cocking of a firing pin, the gentle squeezing of the trigger.

Is this what insanity feels like, Tom asked himself for the hundredth time as he gulped in air once more, after failing to hold his breath any longer than a minute. To lose the line between nightmare and reality? No matter how many times he tried to deny it, still his mind kept drawing him back into this blind panic which he wanted nothing more than to escape from. He didn't want to close his eyes, not ever again, for fear he'd never open them again. He didn't want to lie here helpless, hidden by only a few layers of material, trapped by his emotions, but he had no choice. Tom was being held a prisoner by his own mind.

Eventually, when the pain inside him became too much, he grasped the covers flinging them off him as he let out a silent scream of frustration, before clutching at his head, moaning and whimpering like a tortured animal. He hadn't eaten for over 12 hours now and he could barely stop himself from shaking. He couldn't take it any longer, being cooped up inside, not knowing what was going on in the outside world after everything that had taken place. He was a hunted man, and it would only be a matter of time before the inevitable happened. But the question was, who would come to kill him?

However, Luke was oblivious to the true extent of Tom's turmoil as he waited for the kettle to boil, glancing across at the clock on the wall, deep in thought. It had been several hours since Luke had left Tom, but every time he crept to the end of the corridor to listen, it was silence. He had enquired with the policeman positioned near there, asking if he had heard anything but he just shook his head. Perhaps he was just sleeping, Luke thought as he poured the water into the cup to make a fresh cup of coffee, also pouring a tea to take in to Tom. It was only now that Luke was finally getting a little break from the manic workload of having to deal with all the press that kept hounding him for information about what was happening. The whole world wanted to know what was going on, all their attention focused on Tom and the manhunt, trying to find his assassin.

Once Luke had made sure Tom was safe in his room and that the police around the house were set up, he took his car, along with Toms electrical possessions, back to his flat. Before he even had chance to step out of his car, press surrounded him, hounding him with questions, all concerned for Toms safety, but not for Luke's as they almost crushed him. He wrestled himself through his flat door, slamming it shut firmly behind him, refusing to answer any of their questions, regardless of how impatient they got at him. Dumping Tom's stuff in his spare room, Luke quickly set to work writing up a statement to release to the press on Tom's behalf, hopefully buying them both a bit more time. His mobile kept ringing constantly but he didn't dare answer it as he finished typing the final few sentences of the statement before hitting send, forwarding it to the relevant parties for them to publish it.

After grabbing a bag and stuffing as many clothes in as he could, Luke headed straight for the door again, but stopped when he heard the house phone ringing. "Yeah?", Luke answered as he continued around the house, picking up more things to take with him, stuffing them into his bag. "Got your email. It's just been published. How are you holding up? Need help?", the voice on the other end replied, which Luke recognised immediately as his manager. "I can manage", Luke grunted as he hauled his heavy bag down the stairs, attempting to balance everything in his overcrowded arms. "Mmm. I can tell when you're lying. How's he holding up?", he asked as Luke dropped his bags by the door, wiping away the sweat from his forehead.

"Honestly, not great. I fear it's worse than he's letting on", Luke sighed, scratching at his neck as he quickly glanced at all his belongings sat at his feet, running through a mental check list. He knew that Tom would be suffering mentally from his ordeal, and the doctors told him to look out for the warning signs before it became too severe, but Luke couldn't sit and watch Tom 24/7, not with all the added workload. "Luke, I want you to go to your front room, sit down and put the TV on, now", his manager told him from the other end of the phone. Luke sighed, rolling his eyes, knowing what was about to happen, and he already didn't like it. "What channel?", he asked as he searched through the pile of paperwork on the coffee table for the remote. "Any. News preferably so you'll get an idea of how big this little problem of yours is...", his manager replied, before his voice was cut off from the TV blaring into life.

["... so bright weather all around this week, but do avoid going north if possible as there is an east wind which will bring quite a chill. Now back to our main headlines..."]

For the next few minutes Luke sat opened mouthed in shock, watching and listening to the news reporter on the TV who went back over the main headline once again; Who wants to kill Tom Hiddleston? Footage of Tom filled the screen, him smiling on the red carpet of his latest film, film clips from his career, as well as some self filmed footage of him on the street with fan encounters. It was what Luke saw next which really set his heart pounding, reality setting in like a nail in a coffin. The screen showed pictures of the restaurant, La Belle Rose, before and after the attack, including a picture of Tom THAT night, stepping out of the car, the car that Luke was driving, before going into the restaurant.

["... but police are appealing to anyone in the area for information regarding the attack to please come forward. It has also been discovered that one of the survivors from the attack managed to capture some of the chaos inside the restaurant during the incident. We advise viewers to express caution as some of what you're about to see may be distressing..."]

The screen went all grainy as the dodgy camera phone footage played, showing the inside of the restaurant. The harsh orange light of the fire illuminated most of the screen, the whole place filled with distorted screaming and gunfire. The footage went into slow motion as the camera was panned across, and Luke let out a silent gasp at what he saw. Diving for cover behind an upturned table, terrified, as multiple gunshots flew past his head, was Tom. Several more gunshots and screams echoed through the speakers as the footage shook, shifting out of focus, the last image being Tom peeking out of cover, attempting to shield a young woman as the table top where his head had been splintered with the loud gunshot, before the footage snapped black.

Luke wasn't even aware that the report had finished or that his mobile had stopped ringing in his pocket because the battery had died; he had completely zoned out. The only thing which kept going around in his head was the footage, of seeing Tom nearly die. "Luke. Luke? Luke!", his manager shouted down the phone which had slipped out of his grasp and onto his lap. "Sorry! I'm here!", Luke stammered as he snapped back to reality. "Like I said, you're in way over your head here pal. I'm taking over responsibility now for all the admin jargon, give you chance to get your head straight and make sure you're okay n stuff. Got it?". Luke just nodded, although he felt like he'd gone numb inside, finally realising that things were much bigger than his standard job description of 'PR agent' could deal with. "Right, Luke. This is what I need you to do. Look after Tom, make sure you keep him sane, give him any support he needs, and for god's sake make sure he doesn't do anything stupid! But the police have probably already told you that...Anyway, just look after him. I will deal with all the press work, you just focus on him. Got it?".

"Yes sir", Luke answered, feeling an uncomfortable shift of weight jump from one shoulder to the other. He'd been freed from his workload of his job, but now he had possibly the biggest responsibility of his life, let alone his career. Hanging up the phone, he let out a painful sigh, realising that he was in for a hard ride if it was going to be anything like Tom's breakdown he'd witnessed last night. Luke just hoped that nothing would happen, but no matter how well you plan something or believe it'll all be okay, you're mind always clouds in doubt.

Grabbing his bag and possessions together, Luke made the difficult journey from his front door to his car, practically mowing down the hordes of press surrounding his doorstep, eager for answers. He couldn't remember the drive back to Tom's flat, other than he made sure to double back on himself several times, suddenly becoming aware that he might be being followed. On any other normal day, this wouldn't have bothered him, but Luke was close to Tom, heck they were best buds outside of work, but currently out of everyone in the world except Tom's closest friends, Luke was the only person who knew where Tom lived. All they would have to do would be to follow him...

No sooner had Luke passed through the front door when he was greeted by a rather large policeman who wore a serious expression. "Mr Winsor, we would ask you to go and please check on Mr Hiddleston", he instructed, taking Luke's bag out of his hand, almost pulling him over. "What, why? What's happened?", Luke asked immediately, a cold sweat running down his back. "We heard a small commotion in his room, and the door has been barricaded on the inside so we cannot get in. We've heard him pleading, a shout, then nothing." The policeman spoke as they briskly dashed towards Tom's room. Turning around the corner into the corridor, Luke saw two more police officers armed attempting to push the door down, hammering on it with the butts of their rifles, the wood cracking slowly under the constant strain.

Without pausing to catch his breath, Luke charged straight at the door, slamming his whole bodyweight at the door in an attempt to force it open. It was slightly less painful than running straight into a brick wall because of the give in the wood, but it still hurt like hell, but still the door remained firm, not budging. "Bloody hell Tom", Luke cursed under his breath as he winced, clutching at his shoulder as he stepped back from the door to make way for another policeman to use themselves as a battering ram to force the door open. "TOM!", Luke shouted at the top of his lungs, as he heard the wood crack under the next assault on the door. He thought he heard something like a scream on the other side of the door, but he didn't get chance to check, as with a final deafening crack, the door splintered and gave way, the policemen and Luke all hurtling into the room.

Landing awkwardly on the upturned chair and dresser which had been used as the barricade, Luke froze at the sight before him, all words failing him. The bedroom was trashed, furniture upturned, broken mirrors and pictures hanging off the wall, blood splattered on the cream carpet. In the doorway to the en-suite stood a man Luke didn't know, his top dripped in blood, a bruise forming on his forehead, eyes wild, brandishing a mirrored shard of glass as a weapon. He heard the gunshot fire next to his ear, deafening him immediately, the heat scorching his cheek as he felt himself being pushed over from behind. He tumbled to the floor, losing his glasses as he landed face first into the carpet as he heard another gunshot, followed by another scream before he felt something hit the floor with a loud thud.

His hands frantically searched for his glasses as he called out Tom's name, hoping to god that Tom was alive as he heard the policeman around him shouting a cease-fire. "TOM!", Luke screamed, straining his blurred eyes in the direction of the bathroom as his hands finally found his glasses. He shoved them back on, scrambling to his feet as his vision finally became clear again, running past the figure which now lay crumpled on the floor, unmoving, into the bathroom. Luke's heart was about to leap out of his chest, fearing he was about to find his friend lying dead, murdered, but he never got the chance to prepare for that shock; the bathroom was empty. There was no one else there.

It was only now, as Luke's legs gave way underneath him, that he came to realise with a sickening cry that the figure which now lay on the floor, being turned over like a pig on a butchers' slab, the man who had threatened them, was the man Luke had been looking for. The madman, who's wrists bled freely into the carpet, who's cheeks were stained with salted tears, who's neck had swollen and bruised from being choked, who's eyes rolled into the back of their head with a deathly sigh, was Tom.

[Finally managed to write an update. Please do leave your comments. And please do share this story, I don't get many people who like it or who pass it on. So I hope you like it. Don't worry, it'll all be okay}