Home-->Mom, Don't Go Here
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Crewman: Just put your arms through there. Hammond: What are they for? Crewman: These are arm restraints-uh-in the event—if you go upside down, they stop your arms coming out of the cockpit. Hammond: I don’t want to go upside down. *** Jeremy glanced down at the man sleeping in his arms with something like confusion, and just a hint of worry. Both of these were new things. Richard Hammond was not a quiet sleeper. He was a thrasher, a talker, a kicker of places best left unkicked and an occasional snorer. None of this was a surprise to Jeremy. He and Richard had been sleeping together long enough that most of the time it went completely unnoticed by either man. More often than not, Jeremy would barely raise himself to a soupy half-conscious state, give Richard a smack or a stroke, depending on the circumstance, and likely as not he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. There was that one time when he wondered how he’d manage to bruise himself *there*, and that other time that he came awake to realize Richard was cursing him out for denting his Porsche and he had laughed them both to full wakefulness. But on the whole, Hammond’s subconscious wanderings were of little to no consequence. The man was full of life—it wasn’t surprising that he couldn’t just turn it off at night. And then came the accident. Jeremy had watched Richard fight his way back to health and sanity with a tenacity that Jeremy suspected he never would have had himself. But unlike the Richard Hammond that shared his bed, the hospitalized version of the Hamster didn’t keep working after lights out. In Leeds and in Bristol, Jeremy saw a new man—a man who sometimes didn’t recognize Mindy, or his children or even Jeremy. A man who found utter joy in Lego, wasn’t sure some days what Top Gear was, and thought he was going to a fancy dress party night after night. A man who slept like the dead. To Jeremy it seemed unnatural for Richard to lie so still. No sounds passed his lips, although his snoring seemed louder. Most times when Jeremy found him asleep he’d be on his side, his hurt eye (which took far too long to stop looking like a deformed radish as far as Jeremy was concerned)up, arms and legs curled in tight to his body, making him look even smaller. And no matter if Jeremy stood watching for a few minutes, or sat watching for hours until he either fell asleep or Mindy came to fetch him for a tea, Richard never moved. No head shakes, no thrashing, no kicking. It had been the same when he was finally declared fit and released from hospital. Jeremy had been privy to the secret getaway, and had thanked Mindy for including him (she always did) but thought that it would be best for Richard to come to him on his own terms. And he had. Less than a week after their return to their home, Richard had rung him up and asked if Jeremy fancied a drive somewhere, and maybe a weekend in town. Mindy was nervous but supportive. Jeremy was nervous but excited. And Richard was just happy to be out and motoring around the country in Jeremy’s Land Rover Defender and almost giddy at the prospect of London, a takeaway curry, and winding up at the flat Jeremy kept in town. All of this, as well as the expected lovemaking, followed by the unexpected declaration of love from Hammond, went through Jeremy’s mind as he watched his lover sleep. Richard was curled up at Jeremy’s side, both legs draped over Jeremy’s much longer ones. One arm was flung over Jeremy’s waist (and how exactly someone who was asleep could make him feel weighty and self-conscious, Jeremy wasn’t sure, but it was a fact), the other was stuck awkwardly over Jeremy’s shoulder, his hand tucked somewhere behind Jeremy’s left ear. He was snoring. And drooling. And not moving at all. Jeremy didn’t want to worry—everyone, from the doctors to Richard himself had sworn he was well and mended. But this stillness—Richard was never still—it didn’t make sense. And it wasn’t like being confused by a brake light indicator—Jeremy couldn’t take a hammer to it, or shout it into compliance with his worldview. So he just had to worry instead. Which was worrying. He chuffed quiet bitter laughter as he remembered telling Hammond once after shagging him senseless that he’d finally found a cure for his insomnia. Not so much now. Suddenly, Richard stiffened in his arms, his body and legs creating a stiff V shape. Startled, Jeremy lurched forward, almost sitting up, and the hand that had been softly stroking over one of Richard’s knees clamped down entirely too hard and by accident. Richard didn’t notice. Richard’s arm slithered out from behind Jeremy, and the other arm met it in mid air, so that both arms were now bent at the elbow and held away from his body at a ninety degree angle, with his hands curled into fists at the end of them. Jeremy saw Richard’s knuckles go white, then red with the strain. He tried to unclench one of them and couldn’t, but in the moment where it loosened just a little, he saw small crescent moon shaped marks where Richard’s short nails were digging into his palm. “What the hell? Richard? Hammond!” Jeremy gave him a shake, feeling scared and bewildered and reacting in true Clarkson manner. “Hammond! Wake up!” Richard grew tenser still and Jeremy shook him again and then froze when Richard spoke in a tiny voice. “But I don’t want to go upside down….” Jeremy had heard the expression, ‘gasped in horror’ many times. Hell, he’d jotted it in a few margins on a few Top Gear scripts even. But of course, it had never applied to him. He thought he knew what it meant. But now, remembering watching the film of the accident and recognizing the words, he did gasp, and he was horrified, and it wasn’t at all funny like when James did it. Richard spoke again. “I just wanted to go really fast.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but to Jeremy it was like he was shouting. “Oh, bloody hell, Richard! Please, wake up!” Richard’s back bowed suddenly and Jeremy swore as he almost lost his grip on him. Some dreadful keening noise came out of him, and then, as though he’d gone from dry to boiled linguine in a handful of seconds, Richard was immediately struggling and wriggling, his arms flailing around. Jeremy barely noticed the smack to the side of his head as Richard squirmed around in his arms. Instead he just gathered up as much Hamster as he could, pressed kisses to the man’s brow and hair and prayed, chanted, commanded: “Wake up, wake up, oh, please, man, wake up—“ Richard stopped moving and opened his eyes. “Hammond?” Jeremy was already trying to figure out what to tell the emergency crew when he called them. Richard squinted, rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes like the world’s biggest four-year-old and gave Jeremy a curious smile. “Jezza?” “Hamster.” Richard’s grin was sleepy. “Did I wake you?” “No, I was already awake getting your fists out of my face. As usual.” If Jeremy’s smile was pained, Richard didn’t notice. “Sorry. But you’re the one who said sleeping with me was like an episode of Total Wipeout, but without the culture and good breeding.” Jeremy laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. “Oi, g’off me, you big girl.” “Go back to sleep.” Richard pretended to pout, but it didn’t take as he suddenly yawned widely and then closed his eyes. A moment passed, and he opened them again, looking confused. A quick shake of his head and another sleepy smile and he told Jeremy, “If you wake up with two black eyes, don’t blame me.” “Duly noted.” Jeremy replied. “Good.” Eyes closed again, and immediate stillness, completely contradicting Richard’s warning. Jeremy watched for a while, and thought about changes and worried about not worrying and in fact almost put himself to sleep with his own internal monologue when he heard Richard’s final word on the subject. “I’m so alive,” a slurry whisper that barely formed words, but caused Jeremy to hug him just the same. “And thank God for that,” he agreed.
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