It's been a hot minute since I've written any fan fiction. Do people still say "a hot minute"? I do. Anyways, I'll keep this short and sweet. After watching the recently released Fifty Shades Freed, I found myself wondering what might have happened had Ana lost the baby after Jack attacked her when he kidnapped Mia. I also remember wondering this when I read the books as well.

It's been a while since I read the books. I'll try to keep references to them as true as possible, but I'm not making any promises.

Simply, I just decided it was time to get this idea out of my head put it out there. Maybe it will be good, maybe it won't, but it's better published than left wasting away on my laptop I suppose.

Enjoy!

Everything is dark. It's almost as if I'm dreaming, but there are sensations in my body that feel too real for it to be a dream. I can hear faint sounds around me. Voices, I think, and a constant beeping noise; like on a phone, or a computer maybe? I'm awake, I know I am, but I can't seem to open my eyes. I try to concentrate. The voices, I notice, seem distant actually, not so close, but like the muffled sounds of conversations happening in another room. I feel as though I'm closer to consciousness now, but it's still dark. If I were truly awake, wouldn't I sense some sort of light? I'm tired and weary, and I feel a bone deep ache radiating throughout my entire body, and then suddenly, my eyes flicker open as I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen.

Slowly the room around me comes into focus. I'm confused for a moment still, as I take in my surroundings. My neck feels stiff, and I'm almost scared to move it, so the only visual clues I can take in are those that are already in my line of sight. There's a window with the blinds drawn in the distance, and I can see now that there is a faint light shining from behind them. Early morning perhaps, or sundown? In front of the window is a table with one or two tasteful flower arrangements, and one large one that is quite extravagant but still beautiful. It's hard to discern the colors and type of flowers in the dark, but the size of the arrangement is distinguishable enough to tell that it's much larger than the other ones. There are also a few cards scattered on the table top as well. As I become more aware, the sound of the beeping registers again and I realize then where I am. I turn my head even more to the left with a slight wince and look up to see the monitor tracking my heart rate, and then follow the line of tubing down to where it's connected to my arm.

Why am I in the hospital?

I turn my head to the right this time, noticing first the open door leading out into the hall; the source of the muffled voices. I squint as my eyes adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting drifting in through the open doorway. Then, after acclimating to the change in brightness, I notice him.

He's so close, I don't know how I didn't see him first, but he is cast in shadow, backlit by the light from the hall. Still, my eyes have adjusted well enough now that I can see it's him. He looks exhausted, dark circles framing his closed eyes, and a shadow from what looks like a couple days worth of not shaving covers his jaw line and and circles his mouth. His mouth, is dry, as though he hasn't been eating or drinking.

How long have I been unconscious? Why was I unconscious?

Feeling suddenly anxious and confused again, I instinctively reach out my hand for his. I've barely grazed the tip of his fingers and his eyes snap open and immediately are directed towards mine.

"Anastasia." My name escapes his lips in a strangled sigh. I can almost hear the tears in his voice, and look to see if he is crying, but my view is suddenly blocked by his body standing and moving over me to pull me into his arms. He's gentle, aware of the tubes and wires I'm attached to and my frail condition, but I can still sense the desperation and longing in the tenseness of his hands on my back. "Oh, god, Ana."

This time, without even seeing his eyes, I am sure he is crying. He is crying. He is trembling. I am trembling. I didn't realize until he pulls away and I can still feel the tremors which must be my own.

"Christian," I try to say his name, but it sounds more like a croak. My mouth is very dry and my throat is sore from lack of use, or maybe a tube. Had I been intubated?

"Shh, Ana," Christian hushes me as he brushes some stray bangs out of my eyes. "Let me get you some water."

Instinctively I reach out and grab his wrist. "No, don't leave me." I sound desperate I know. It's not something I'm used to, but I'm still feeling anxious and a little muddled. Why am I here?

"It's ok," He reassures me, turning to the table next to the chair he was sitting in. "It's right here." He grabs a pitcher and pours some water into a clear plastic cup. "There's no ice though. I'd have to leave for a moment if you'd like some." He raises his brow in question as he turns back and hands me the cup.

I shake my head and take a tentative sip.

"Good," he says firmly, "because I'm not feeling so inclined to leave your side just yet." That unwavering power and authority is there in his voice, but his eyes say something much different. Sadness? Fear? Relief?

Silence falls between us as he watches me carefully as I finish my cup of water. I'm sure he would have been more than happy to demand I finish it, had I not, but lucky for him I was feeling quite parched. Or unlucky, perhaps, if he was hoping for some defiance. In the beginning he didn't like my disobedience, but now I know it's more of a turn on than anything else; depending on the situation.

"Oh, god," I gasp, the thought of my disobeying him suddenly bringing memories flooding back.

Jack Hyde. Mia and the money. Telling Christian I was leaving him. Jack attacking me. Shooting Jack! The Baby!

"The baby!" My hand reflexively goes to my abdomen. The sharp pain I'd felt! I wasn't even close to showing yet, so there's no visual difference to tell me whether or not anything has happened, but when my eyes flicker up to meet the pain reflected in Christian's, I know. "No," I sob, my head immediately falling as I close my eyes and weep, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Ana," I hear him mutter, pained, and I expect to feel his arms wrapping around me as well, but then I remember that he hadn't been happy about the baby in the first place. I glance up and though I realized he doesn't share in my despair over losing the baby, I'm shocked to see him leaving the room. Suddenly, I feel exhausted and overwhelmed by my emotions. I'm angry at him, I'm angry at myself, I'm heartbroken. I roll over onto my side, curl into a ball, and sob into my pillow until sleep takes me.

Until next time.