Light My Fire (Teacher/Student) (Benedict Cumberbatch fan fiction)

Epilogue: Always

11 years later...

"Mom, dad. I want you to officially meet my boyfriend, Maxwell. Maxwell, meet my mom and dad." Michele was finally introducing us to her boyfriend of two years. She had blossomed into a beautiful young lady, which caused worries for us. Thankfully, she found someone nice who was her age, unlike me.
My 10 year old son, James, was at staying at a friend's house, in order to not interrupt this meeting.
I studied the boy in front of me. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, and he was handsome, but somewhat familiar. He extended his hand towards me, "Hello, Mrs. Cumberbatch," then he reached to Benedict, "Hello, Mr. Cumberbatch."
I smiled at him, "Call me Ize."
Benedict glared at him, "I prefer Mr. Cumberbatch," he motioned to the couch in front of him, "Sit down, Maxwell."
I glanced at Benedict, and he quickly winked at me before continuing his stern face. Maxwell awkwardly shifted in his seat, looking up at Michelle with pleading eyes. Michelle raised her hands in defeat, as if saying, 'You're on your own.'
Benedict put his hands together as if praying, then placed them under his chin, "So, Maxwell. You have been with my daughter for two years. You're fifteen, the same age as her. What is your last name, who are your parents, what are your electives, are you in any AP classes, and can you drive yet?"
Maxwell cleared his throat, "I don't know my dad, but my mom's name is Christina Anderson. She had me at sixteen. My dad left her for his best friend, but he died when I was four. My last name is Wemberly---"
Benedict cut him off, his knuckles turning white, "What is your father's first name?"
"Quinn..." Maxwell became concerned with Benedict's sudden mood change, "Is... Is something wrong, Mr. Cumberbatch?"
Benedict stood up, anger written all over his face, "Get out of here. You are not allowed to see my daughter again! Get. Out."
Maxwell stood up as well, his hand entertwining with Michelle's, "I can't do that, Mr. Cumberbatch. I love Michelle too much."
"Mom, dad? What's going on?" Michelle asked. She didn't remember Quinn or the entire ordeal that happened. We kept it hidden from her.
I raised out of the couch, setting a hand on Benedict's shoulder, "Husband, you can't possibly judge Maxwell based on who his father was."
Benedict turned his head towards me, still angry, "You didn't tell me that he had a son!"
I removed my hand from his shoulder, "Of course I didn't! I'm as surprised as you are!"
Maxwell spoke, "Look, I don't even know my father. My mom became pregnant and he left her once she told him. She said that he told her that he had other things to do, that she and I weren't important. He said that his best friend was pregnant, but he didn't specify whether it was his or not. He told her that he wanted to raise her baby instead of my mom's, since my mom was just a one night thing. So, Mr. Cumberbatch, I would appreciate it if you didn't compare me to my father. He's dead and that's all I know."
Benedict opened his mouth, and then closed it. He turned away, sighing. I vaguely remembered Christina and how she became pregnant a few months after I did. No one knew who the father was...
I hugged Maxwell, "I'm sorry. I'm sure Christina did a wonderful job raising you."
Maxwell laughed, "She did. She never married. I think I scared away all the potential suitors."
Michelle stared at me, "Okay, seriously. What is going on?"
I turned to Benedict and he glanced at me, shrugging. I turned back to Michelle, "Okay... Honey, I need you and Maxwell to sit down. What I'm about to tell you may... shock you."

I sat down in front of Michelle, holding her available hand since Maxwell had the other one.
"You know how I had you at 16, right," Michelle nodded, "Well... I had a friend. In fact, he was my best friend. I had come from California with my brother to stay with my aunt because a bad man was trying to hurt me. I made a friend here in Arkansas named Quinn. He was... lonely like I was. And I became his best friend and he became mine. When you were born, Quinn kidnapped you and raised you as his own for four years. Your dad looked everywhere for you, and he wouldn't let me come along. He found you and brought you back here, but Quinn had other plans. He arrive before Benedict and kidnapped Violin and I. He was working with my aunt because they didn't want Benedict, you, and I to be a happy family. He shot me three times and..." I stopped. I didn't want to relive the horrible ordeal that I went through with Quinn and Mia.

"And then what, Ize?" Maxwell had a tear running down his face while Michelle had a blank look on her face.
"I'm sorry... I can't talk about it anymore. It's too much." I stood up, turning away. I suppressed the memory for so long that remembering hurt. I left the room, wiping teara away from my face as I headed towards the kitchen.
I leaned on the kitchen counter, sighing. I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me.
"I'm sorry, Ize. I didn't mean to scare you," It was Maxwell, "I want to apologize for my father's actions. I am so sorry about the harm he caused you and your family. I wish he didn't hurt my future in-laws and wife. I regret having his blood in my veins." He pulled me into a hug.
"Son, you don't have to apologize for your father's actions. You may have his blood, but you are nothing like him. You are kind, " I smiled at him, "Welcome to our family, Maxwell."

--

Benedict had a lengthy discussion with both Maxwell and Michelle, mostly about how if they decide to have sex, then they should inform us. They shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, and I gave them a questionable look.
"Well... Dad... We already..." Michelle's face turned red. Maxwell tried to hide himself.
"What? Oh goddamn it, guys." Benedict shook his head. I laughed at their typical teenage behavior.

Afterwards, we all went out to dinner, and then dropped Maxwell off at his home. We picked James up, and he began to ask questions about the meeting. We didn't answer him, of course. He insisted, bothering Michelle to the point where she began to mimick everything he said or did.
I looked at Benedict and he looked back at me, both of us smiling. We were happy. Life was amazing, and I would not trade it for the world.