Chapter 2, already? What?! I'm so impressed with myself.

Enjoy!


When I wake, I'm still a little disoriented, but it doesn't take me as long this time to remember where I am, and why I'm attached to a machine that's incessant beeping is really rather annoying. I've seen nurses hit a button before that turns the sound off, so I attempt to sit up to see if I can find it myself, but as I start to reach up, a voice from behind startles me.

"Please, don't," Christian's voice is soft but strained. "I find it comforting. It reassures me that you're okay."

I turn to him, confused at first, but then realize he is talking about my heart beat. The beeping is mirroring my heartbeat, and he wants me to keep it on because it eases his nerves. His desire to keep me safe is never-ending. I almost want to reach up and turn it off anyways, to defy him, and not because I think it will turn him on, but because I am still upset that he left the room earlier when I found out I'd lost the baby, and because he didn't want it in the first place. I decide against it however, not really in the mood to argue. I turn away from him to look out the window, but the blinds are still drawn. I notice also that there's no light emitting from behind them now. It must be late.

The silence that falls between us is deafening, but I don't know what to say to him. I'm still hurting, and I'm afraid that if I talk, I'll just start crying again. So, instead, I let my attention fall to the cards and the flower arrangements, and as I try to guess which one's are from who, I realize that we hadn't even told anyone else yet that I was pregnant. Do they know now? Did Christian tell them, or were any of them here when the doctor gave Christian the news that we'd lost it? Maybe they don't know at all. I wasn't sure at that moment which scenario I preferred. If they knew, there was likely to be a rushing of sympathy coming our way, and I wasn't sure I could handle anyone telling me anytime soon that they were sorry for our loss, especially considering that it was really only my loss. Christian is likely relieved to be rid of the burden. I flinch instantly at the thought. Not because I think he could be so callous, but at my own dark thoughts for thinking him so cruel. Christian has a good heart and is very loving. He shows it in odd ways sometimes, but I know deep down that he could never be so cold hearted. Still, he had made it pretty clear that he hadn't wanted the baby in the first place, and then left me to grieve alone when I found out after only having just woken up in the hospital.

"Ana," Christian calls my name softly, likely afraid to set me off. "Where's that head of yours? Come back to me." It's a desperate plea. I know he hates when I ignore him, and if my own thoughts are all over the place right now, I can't even imagine what he must be thinking. He is usually the one with the penchant for overreacting and letting his mind wander, taking him to dark places. "I love you so much. I was so scared I was going to lose you."

But not the baby, I think, and my eyes begin to tear up. I keep my head turned towards the window, knowing that if I look at him I will break down again. I know it would be hurtful to say it out loud but I can't hold it in. "But not the baby," I say, my mouth quivering as I repeat my thoughts.

"What?" He practically growls, his voice raising quite a few octaves, but then he lowers it when he continues, likely not wanting to raise alarm and draw the attention of the nurses. "Ana, I–" he falters. "–how could you think that? I'm devastated."

Suddenly the room seems to grow darker, but then I realize it's because he is suddenly in front of me, blocking my view. He grabs both of my hands in his and drops down to his knees. His head drops to the bed, his hands trembling as they hold mine tightly. When he raises his head, the look in his eyes and the sight of the tears streaming down his face nearly knocks the breath out of me.

"I'm so sorry, Ana," he says on a deep trembling sigh. "I said some things, some awful things. I'm appalled by my reactions and will regret them for the rest of my life. I've sat here for the past three days wanting so much to take back what I said and what I did. I don't know if anything I say to you will ever make up for it, but you must know," he pauses drawing in a breath as his grip on my hands tightens. His gaze intensifies as if he is willing me to believe him. "You must know, that I would never have wished for you to lose the baby."

Tears are running down my face now, matching his own. I raise my hand to his face, caressing his cheek, and wipe away some of his tears.

"Ana," he says as he moves quickly to get in the bed beside me and pulls me into his side as I bury my face and weep into his chest. His hands caress my hair and my back, rubbing soothing circles and whispering softly that he has me, and that everything is going to be okay. I'm not sure who he is trying to reassure more, me or himself, but either way, just being near him and feeling him holding me tight is comfort enough to calm my tears and slow my breathing.

I'm still not so sure I believe him. I don't want to think that way, but the thought is still nagging at the back of my mind. He is just placating me. I do believe that he was scared he would lose me, and he's likely so happy that he didn't that he might say anything right now just to make me happy and keep us from arguing. Even in my own mind, I feel as if I sound cynical and disparaging, but the things he did and said when I'd first told him I was pregnant really hurt me. It was one thing for him to not want the baby, I was fairly prepared for that reaction, but to insinuate I should get an abortion without discussing things further with me, and then to run off to his Mrs. Robinson; it broke my heart, that he ran to her instead of me.

After a few minutes, when I feel as though I can speak without crying again, I ask him why he left me in the room alone earlier.

"What?" I can feel him pull back, but I am comfortable with my head on his chest and don't want to move, when he realizes, he puts his arms around me again and continues to rub my back.

"After I realized I'd lost the baby, you left." I sniff, trying hard not to start crying again. I feel so emotional, but I suppose it's normal after such a tragic event. "I needed you and you just left the room."

"God, Ana, is that what you thought?"

I pull away this time and adjust myself so I am still nestled by his side, but can look up into his eyes. I nod.

"Jesus… fuck." He lifts his hand and drags it over his face. "You really think I would just leave you like that? After you'd just found out that–" He pulls back more, moving his hands to my shoulders as he searches my face. When I don't say anything, he pulls me back into his side. "I only left for a minute or two to find the nurse to let her know that you were awake, but asked her to give us some privacy for a little while. I didn't want anyone to disturb us in that moment. I had planned to come back in and crawl in bed with you, to hold you in my arms as you wept, just as we are now, but by the time I'd come back, you had already fallen back asleep."

Just then, as if she could sense what we were discussing, the nurse knocks softly on the door frame and then enters the room.

"Hi," she smiles sweetly, and apologetically at the two of us. "I know it's late, but I heard voices and I didn't get a chance to check in earlier." Her eyes dart towards Christian's and then back to mine. She looks a bit taken aback by his steely gaze, but quickly recovers. He clearly isn't happy about the interruption.

She grabs my chart and moves over to the right side of the bed to check the readings on the monitor. "Are you feeling okay? Any pain or discomfort?"

"No, I'm okay," I respond with Christian still glued to my side. Clearly he doesn't find it necessary to move as the nurse looks me over.

"Okay," she smiles, not phased at all by Christian's overprotectiveness. I'm sure she's seen it all. "Well, if you need anything, just buzz. Otherwise, I'd recommend getting some more sleep if you can. The doctor will be in early in a few hours to talk to you."

"Thank you." I smile back. Christian remains quiet at my side, perturbed by her interruption. When she's gone, I turn to him smiling, but shaking my head. "She's just doing her job, Christian."

"Well she couldn't have chosen a worse moment to do so."

I roll my eyes, but feel safe knowing that he can't see the way my head is still tucked into his side, and the fact that I'm lying in a hospital bed is also hopefully a deterrent. Though, leave it to Christian to find the most inopportune moments to get turned-on and feel the need to punish me. It's different now, he would never force me into anything or punish me without my permission, but there are still moments when I challenge him that I can see the deviant lurking behind those grey eyes, just waiting for me to give him a reason and consent to do with my body as he pleases. It's a turn-on for me now too, knowing that he truly won't hurt me and that he would stop immediately if I asked, and then there's also the immense pleasure that we both usually get out of it.

I tuck my face further into his chest, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Now is definitely not the moment for me to be having these thoughts. I feel selfish and disgusted after what has just happened. How could I be so thoughtless? I should be a mess. I should be angry at him and in despair over the loss of the baby, not thinking about all the perverse things we do together that get me going.

"Ana." Christian's fingers tuck under my chin and lift my head so he can look at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I reply, trying to keep my voice even. "I'm fine. Just tired. I should probably try to sleep, like the nurse said."

I can see the concerned look in his eyes. He's always so good at reading me. "Are you sure? We could–" he pauses, searching my face, "–talk more, if that's what you want? I feel like we didn't get to finish what we were discussing before the nurse came in."

He's worried I'm still upset with him, that I believe that he really did just leave me there to grieve alone. Maybe I am, and maybe I do. I love him, so much, and I know that he feels the same, but I know it's going to take some time for me to process all of my emotions, which there are quite a few of at the moment. I feel drained. I just want to go home and sleep in our own bed, but for now this is the bed I'm stuck with.

"Ana?" He says when I don't respond.

"No, I don't want to talk anymore right now. I just want to sleep."

"Okay," he replies quietly, but I can hear it in his voice that he really doesn't agree. He doesn't push though, and I'm relieved for that. "Do you want me to move?"

"No," I say too quickly, grabbing at his shirt to keep him from moving. "No, stay. Please."

"Of course." He tucks me back into his side and rests his head on top of mine.

I let the sound of his heart beating calm my own, and try to push everything from my mind for now, at least. There will be plenty of time to let my emotions wash over me when we are home. It's exhausting just thinking about all of the things I need to process and all of the undesirable conversations we are going to need to have. I know there will be more arguing and crying, at least on my end. It's not what I want, but I would be foolish to think that this would all just go away so easily. We've experienced a tragic loss, or at least I have, and dealing with it is not going to be easy. Things never are easy with Christian. I'm not so sure I would want them to be though, anyways. I like that we challenge each other, and in the end, we usually can talk things out and move on. I just hope that it will be the same this time. Deep down I'm scared that it won't. I'm terrified that we won't be able to move past this, and that I'll lose him, but for now, I can't think like that.

After only a few minutes I can tell that Christian's breathing has slowed. He's asleep. I know he's exhausted as well. Knowing him, he hasn't slept much at all since I've been here. The thought oddly calms me even more, knowing that it's because he truly cares. It would crush me if I lost him, and I know he feels the same.

After another minute or two, my own eyes start to grow heavy, and not wanting to fight it any longer, I burrow myself even deeper into his side, and allow sleep to wash over me.


Until next time.