Hi :) Just wanted to write a quick note before I started. I haven't written in about 10 years or so, but 50 shades made me want to start again. I have no idea if I'm any good, now-or then, I just liked doing it, and hope to rekindle my love of it again. All comments are welcome, but please, don't just say its bad, tell me why. Thankies :)
Written from Christian's POV – end of Fifty Shades of Grey
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just the ideas within this story. Any recognizable parts are not my work, but added in order to relate better to the book
Fifty Shades of...Grief?
Those eyes.
"Ana, goodbye" I force the words past the hard lump in my throat.
Oh those beautiful blue eyes, once happy and full of hope, now sad, resigned. I did that. Shit!
The gleaming silver doors of the elevator silently slide shut, and I see my pale reflection staring back. I choke back something that appears dangerously close to a sob, disguising it with a cough, her words ringing in my ears. What has she done to me? I'm not used to feeling like this, dealing with these...these things.
"You are one fucked up son of a bitch"
I pick the shiny black leather belt from the couch and sit down. Belts are one thing I don't really look at too much – a belt's a belt, end of. Elena hit me with a belt, a long suede one, brown I think, and quite supple. The pain wasn't that bad, was it? Pursing my lips I raise my arm and slap my leg, stiffening slightly as the leather bites.
"You need to sort your shit out, Grey!"
I've never heard her like that, such venom and spite. I should have known, should have stopped her when she wobbled. I saw her, pale and scared before we came in the playroom. I know she hoped I didn't notice but I did, yet I still bought her in.
"Safe-word Ana" I yell, punching the leather seat, suddenly angry. "Why didn't you fucking safe-word?"
Running my hands through my hair I sigh as I walk to our...my bedroom. Something is on the pillow. A box and a note. Picking it up I read:
This reminded me of a happy time.
Thank you.
Ana
Christian, darling" She purrs
I sniff.
"Darling, is everything as it should be?"
"Ana" I murmer
"What about her?"
"She's gone."
"But why? I thought you had her until Sunday"
"She walked out. She's left me. I hit her."
I heard her laugh. "Is that all? With...what, prey tell?"
"Belt"
She laughed again. "Hard?"
I swallow hard, revulsion flooding through me. "Do I do anything else?"
"Good" she says spitefully. "She really is a delicate little flower isn't she? I dread to think what would happen if you had taken my paddle to her behind. Remember that, sweetie?"
I close my eyes and shudder at the memory of her favourite toy, a black leather paddle with raised studs. It drew blood many a time.
"You'll find a new sub in no time darling, don't fret." I can hear her grinning.
"I told you before, she's more than that, she's..."
"Don't be silly" she scolds, her voice harsh. "She can't give you what you need."
"She was all I needed" I replied, my voice low.
"Obviously not" she quipped, "or else why did you beat her?" I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. "She can't handle you Christian, I can."
"Elena..."
She sighs loudly. "Darling, let it go."
"She said she loved me" I whisper.
"You...she can't!"
"I think I love her."
Silence.
"Elena help me" I plead, and I notice I'm still holding the note in my hand, gripping it tight as if my life depended on it. "Please, I don't know what to do. I need control, I like control, and I'm not in control. I don't understand these...feelings." My words are coming as choking sobs.
"Get a grip Grey" she replies harsly. "Take control back, don't let her win. Move on. Do you want me to come over?" she asks quietly.
"No."
She softens. "Darling emotions just aren't for you and I, we don't do feelings, and now maybe you see why. More isn't for you, it's not what you need, and we both know that."
"Back then maybe, but now..."
"But now nothing" she sounds exasperated. "Nothing's changed."
"Everything's changed though, can't you see, she's changed me."
"For the better, you think" her voice grew hard once more. "Look, these...emotions" she spat the word out like it was an expletive "will render you powerless. You want her to have that hold over you be her sub – though I doubt she could control a remote control car" she adds silkily.
I growl.
"Oh darling I hate how she's hurt you, you're not my Christian."
"I'm not your anything" I remind her, my voice low and potent.
She tries again. "I have told you countless times I do not think Anastasia any good for you. However" she cuts me off, sensing my impending protestation "this girl has clearly had an effect on you, and no matter what I think you seem to like it." She sounds like she's swallowed something nasty, and hesitates momentarily."So, you have no choice but to go after her."
You fucked up big time Grey! I admonish myself, flopping onto our...my bed. I reach my hand under the pillow and find my T-shirt she used as a nightshirt. Hugging it to me I bury my head in her pillow, inhaling her soft, musky, feminine scent. I feel wretched, lost, and empty without her. I think back to my conversation with Elena. Maybe she was right, and I did need more. Is that why I didn't put up more of a fight when she asked me to show her the extent of my actions, like some kind of inherent need? Maybe I should have stopped when I heard Ana crying. That's not what a Dom does, a Dom responds only to safe-words – I can almost hear Elena say it. I'm confused. "Oh Ana" I sigh, screwing my eyes tightly shut. The pain in my chest is indescribable, like nothing I've ever known before. I'd rather go ten rounds with Elena's paddle than endure this. I open my eyes and look at the curled up scrap of paper in my hand, all sweaty and damp from the grip of my fist:
This reminded me of a happy time.
Which one, I wonder. Was she happy at all with me? I search around me for the box I remembered to be underneath the note, eventually finding it on the floor. Must have knocked it off when I fiddled with the pillows I reasoned, to no one in particular. Upon closer inspection I see what the happy time was.
Shuffling piles of paper into neat little bundles at the side of my desk, I sit down. I have a bottle of white wine, and a glass of water. Unpacking the box I lay the pieces in front of me, my eyes scanning the instructions. Taking a rather large gulp of wine I breathe deeply, trying to clear my mind so I can concentrate on the task before me. Loading the fine tipped brush with white paint I carefully begin to smooth it on.
"Mr Grey" He clears his throat.
Opening one eye I groan. Christ I'm uncomfortable, but then I realise falling asleep on my desk is probably why. The clock says 10:32.
"Mr Grey" he tries again. "Can I get you anything?"
Yes, I say in my head. You can get me my Ana back. I sit up, and shake my head.
With an almost imperceptible nod, he turns to walk away.
"Actually, Taylor, I want something to display this on." I point at the model in front of me, half smiling in pride that I didn't lose my temper with the teeny tiny bits, or the T-fin that just refused to glue on straight, and half at the memories of that glorious morning. "Ana left it for me, last night" I say, my voice low, and thick with raw emotion. "I took her gliding in one of these; it's a Blanik L-23."
"I'm sure I can find something suitable sir." And with another nod, he was gone.
He's come back. Mommy's asleep or she's sick again.
I hide and curl up small under the table in the kitchen. Through my fingers I can see Mommy. She is asleep on the couch. Her hand is on the sticky green rug, and he's wearing his big boots with the shiny buckle and standing over Mommy shouting. He hits Mommy with a belt. "Get up! Get up! You are one fucked-up bitch. You are one fucked-up bitch. You are one fucked-up bitch. You are one fucked-up bitch. You are one fucked-up bitch. You are one fucked-up bitch."
Mommy makes a sobbing noise.
Stop. Please stop.
Mommy doesn't scream. Mommy curls up small. I have my fingers in my ears, and I close my eyes. The sound stops. He turns and I can see his boots as he stomps into the kitchen. He still has the belt. He is trying to find me. He stoops down and grins. He smells nasty. Of cigarettes and drink. "There you are, you little shit."
I wake with a start, I heard something. I sit bolt upright, and drop my head into my hand. The nightmares, they're back, and I realise I've not had one since Ana started sharing my bed. Breathing heavily, I tentatively lie back down.
I raise my hand
"Count Anastaia! I command.
Leather hits skin in a satisfying thwack.
"One!" she shouts at me
"Two!" she screams, my breathing ragged as her pale flesh starts to turn a rosy pink.
On and on she screams at me, counting, crying. Her voice gets weaker but I don't let up. She's silent, limp, cold. I see blood, blood everywhere.
I hear voices, loud, insistent voices everywhere, and I know they're meant for me, but I can't concentrate. I yell at everyone, at work and at home. I've eaten hardly anything, and barely slept a wink in 5 days. I'm in a seemingly never-ending cycle, and it's killing me, slowly, from the inside out. I glance at my computer screen as my calendar pops up. José's exhibition is tomorrow and my cheque hasn't been cashed. This means she has, in all probability, no car.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14: 05
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia
Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it's going well. Did you get my flowers?
I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend's show, and I'm sure you've not had time to purchase a car, and it's a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you - should you wish.
Let me know.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I wait. For what, an acceptance? She didn't acknowledge the flowers, and I know she got them, she signed for them. She wants nothing to do with you Grey, let her go. I close my eyes, I'm unsure how else to proceed, apart from turning up at her offices, demanding to see her. Yeah good one Grey, she'll really love you for that one. I see her warm blue eyes staring at me, deep into my soul, and I screw my eyes closed, trying to keep her there. I need her. I'm nothing without her. Nothing is worth anything without my Ana.
The vision goes and I open my eyes warily. Still no reply. Maybe she has a ride, maybe she's already accompanying someone. No, please, she can't have moved on. The thought hits me like a thunderbolt, and I shudder.
My eyes snap to the screen as I hear a ping, telling me I have email:
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14: 25
To: Christian Grey
Hi Christian
Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.
Yes, I would appreciate a lift.
Thank you.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
My mood lifts slightly, and the darkness that's been surrounding me gets a little lighter. I expected another burst of hard Steele if I was honest, and I guess I'd have deserved it, but no, she accepted my offer – not much but it's a start - and for the first time in five days I have something to smile about.
