a/n: This story again is inspired by the the story 'Becoming Fifty Shades' by KoolJack1. It will follow some of the same events in this wonderful story so I recommend reading that one as well.
This is the story of how Grace Trevelyan-Grey met Christian and how he became her son.
I do not own Fifty Shades of Grey or any of the characters.
Chapter 1: A case like no other
Nothing could have prepared me for this. No amount of medical training, none of my past experiences working in this hospital, none of my work with The Wayne County Department of Children and Family Services could have prepared me for this case...
I pride myself on being a very compassionate physician- I am a pediatrician after all- but more so on being a professional, no nonsense physician. I have to keep some sort of emotional distance or else I would never be able to survive working with the cases I see at DMC. This is where all of the child abuse cases come and I have seen my share of horrors. Children, babies, all so sweet and innocent, hurt beyond imagination. My job is to treat them, help heal their physical wounds and aid the system in ensuring that these children are cared for properly. I occasionally have to aid in legal proceedings involving some of these cases, testify to the injuries I treat and give my professional opinion on what I have seen. So when my pager went off earlier this afternoon I set down my book and stretched my tired limbs and proceeded to the ER. My too short break from a grueling 24 hour call shift was officially over. Pulling my hair back off my face and putting on my white lab coat, I take a deep breath and pull back the curtain to exam room 5, no nonsense, and professional, emotional distance.
"Dr. Trevelyan…" Dana, the ER nurse on duty, starts to brief me but I hear nothing. All I can focus on is the small, terrified child in front of me, thrashing and crying on the bed. I am momentarily frozen in place, unable to see beyond the beautiful, scared baby in front of me.
Snap to it Grace! The voice inside my head yells and in an instant clarity comes back to me.
"We found him barely conscious, severely dehydrated and malnourished. He was curled up shivering next to the body of his dead mother, we presume. Looks to be about 3 years old, maybe younger…doesn't seem to talk." The responding EMT's continue to fill me in on his vitals and other information.
The boy is shaking and crying, swinging his arms at anyone who comes near him. He is beyond terrified.
"Thank you. Now if you would all please back away from….do we know his name?" I ask.
"No Doctor. We know nothing about him, the anonymous call just said that there was a dead woman in the apartment, nothing about a child", the officer who brought him in tells me.
The boy starts thrashing again and starts looking around frantically for anyone he recognizes, his mother maybe? His eyes meet mine for a second and I see the fear in his wide, hollow grey eyes. I smile at him and for a second it seems he calms down.
"Sshhh, its OK my baby. No one is going to hurt you", I say in a whispering, soothing voice.
"It's OK. You are safe baby. My name is Doctor Grace and I am here to help you."
I start to walk closer to the bed, never breaking eye contact, reassuring him that everything will be alright. His beautiful, scared grey eyes seem to say that he wants to believe and trust me.
"I am here to help you baby. Can I look at you" I inch closer slowly. I am talking to him like I talk to my son Elliot when he is upset and crying. It seems to be working as he is staring at me and no longer thrashing about.
"I just want to look at you and see you are feeling, sweetheart. Will you let me see where you are hurt?"
He doesn't move. He just stares at me terrified, the fear increasing with each step I take towards him.
"Dr. Trevelyan, he hasn't let anyone near him", Dana tells me.
I reach the edge of the bed and reach out to touch his shoulder and his tiny body starts convulsing and he begins screaming…heart wrenching, primal screams like I have never heard before. His little body is thrashing about on the gurney, fighting to be free of the restraints holding him in place.
"Why is he restrained?" I yell, louder and angrier than I mean to.
"Doctor, we had to. He wouldn't let anyone near him. It took two officers and both of us to get him to the ambulance. He fought us like I have never seen" says one of the paramedics standing behind me.
I back away but he is still screaming uncontrollably, and I can see the panic and fear in his eyes. It's not just him though that is terrified, I see the fear in the eyes of the medical staff around me, and none of us has seen a child this terrified before. It is utterly heartbreaking and again, I am caught off guard for a brief moment.
I shake my head to snap out of it. "Dana lets get him sedated, NOW! And get an IV started, saline and electrolytes. I want blood work done, a full screen, to test for drugs in his system as well." I have never had to sedate a child like this before, just to do a physical exam and the thought makes my stomach turn.
I look at the two EMT's and nod as they move to the other side of the bed and help to restrain him. We hold his legs and small body still under the bed sheet we quickly place over him. I can't have anyone hold his limbs as I have yet to examine the extent of his injuries, and if anything is broken we could do more damage. Dana quickly administers a shot of midazolam and I quietly try to soothe him as the sedative takes over. I keep my eyes fixed on his as he succumbs to the medicine, making sure that he sees me comforting him as he drifts out of consciousness. I hold his little body as best I can, talking and soothing him. He looks at me as his eyes close, and I swear I see a spark of hope and trust in them.
Once his body has calmed and he is unconscious it is all business and I efficiently begin my exam. Dana gently cuts away his tattered, filthy clothes. He is wearing a pair of dirty pajamas, at least two sizes too small and practically threadbare. They smell of stale cigarette smoke and filth and I wonder to myself when and if they have ever been laundered. As is protocol, all of his belongings, the dingy pajamas, are placed in a sterile bag, evidence for any future criminal abuse case. I start to inventory the evident signs of abuse and neglect I find. My stomach turns as I chart the torture that this poor angel has endured in his short life. He is beyond malnourished. He is emaciated, his little ribs protruding from his pale skin and his stomach swollen. He is also severely dehydrated, beyond what I had originally thought.
There are scars and bruises covering his body. His limbs are covered with tell-tale signs of physical trauma; the all too obvious markings of a belt and buckle and bruises from hands and fists. He has a contusion on the back of his head and I order a CT scan to make sure there is no internal trauma. Thankfully, there are no broken bones or evidence of prior orthopedic injury. The most disturbing injuries, the ones that bring tears to my eyes, are the small round burns on his chest and back. I fight back tears as I chart them. Sixteen in all some healed and now just scars; but most are fresh, only a few days old at most.
"How could anyone do this to a child?" Dana asks and as I glance over to her she has tears in her eyes.
We take extra care in cleaning and treating his burns, hoping that in his sedated state, he cannot feel what we are doing. He has endured enough pain at someone else's hands and I don't want to cause even the slightest bit more.