Thanks for reading — I know this is really depressing so far, but I swear it'll get better soon. In the first day, I managed to write three chapters, so I thought I'd share them all with you right off the bat. I'm going to try to update at least weekly with a couple chapters at a time.

Anyone interested in being my beta should PM me, please!

Let me know what you'd like to happen in the reviews. I haven't written any fanfiction since high school and it's a bit daunting, especially considering how much is out there that's spectacular already.


Chapter 24


Christian jumps to his feet, never letting go of my hand. "She needs to rest, can't this wait?" he roars. Talk about mercurial. What a mood shift.

Detective Clark ignores him, coming around to the other side of my bed and pushing the doctor out of the way. "No, it can't, Mr. Grey." He is all business and I can clearly see that he hasn't slept in days. "Mrs. Grey, I need you to tell me what you remember about your attacker."

I blink back at him. I look over to Christian, who is fuming. I can practically smell the smoke coming out of his ears. I squeeze his hand and he looks down at me. "It's okay, Christian," I say and he quells slightly. Turning back to the detective, I say, "It was Jack Hyde, my old boss at SIP. Elizabeth Morgan was working with him, but I think he was blackmailing her or something."

Clark looks at Christian and their eyes meet. There's some information passing between them and I have no idea what it is. This whole being out of the loop thing is getting irritating quickly.

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" I croak. I had intended to yell but I sound more like a toad than anything else.

And that's it. The doctor, the detective, the husband: they all look at me with pity.

Christian sits down slowly and his tears pour down his face in parallel rivers on his cheeks. I feel them drip onto my skin as he lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

"You were beaten very badly, Ana." I try to smile. Oh God, does it hurt to do that!

"I know that much. I can feel it, Christian."

"Well, you hit your head very hard and so they think your vision wasn't very good when you fired the gun. You didn't hit Jack."

No. No, that's not right, I remember him stumbling. I hit him with the third bullet.

Christian answers my unasked question, "The first bullet hit Elizabeth in the chest. She died on the way to the hospital. The third bullet wound up lodged in a brick wall." He stops.

My fear is really getting the best of me. What happened to the second bullet?

Christian's tears are flowing freely and I stop breathing.

"The second one hit Mia."

My thoughts start spiraling. My vision greys and I feel dizzy. I can feel my grip on consciousness slipping and I give up.


I wake up to screaming. I'm so scared and confused that I don't realize at first that it's me who's screaming. Christian comes running in from the hallway, a look of total distress etching his features.

"Baby, I'm here. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here." He cradles me in his arms and I calm. I'm shaking all over. He kisses my forehead and rocks me back and forth and I close my eyes, inhaling his scent. I am vaguely aware of a nurse or a doctor checking my tubes, my monitors, my chart, but I don't care. All that matters in my world is that Christian's presence, reassuring me.

He looks down at me, concerned, and I nod to let him know I'm better. He helps me sit up in bed. I am feeling slightly less sore and suddenly am famished. I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks — I realize I probably haven't.

"I'm hungry," I say and I watch as a huge smile spreads across Christian's face.

Without taking his eyes off me, he grabs his phone and hits a speed dial. "Taylor, yes, can you go by Escala and have Mrs. Jones prepare some broth and toast for Mrs. Grey?" He hangs up without waiting for a reply.

I finally take a moment to look around the room. Humongous bouquets of flowers fill every horizontal surface I can see. There's a giant Charlie Tango balloon at the foot of my bed and I grin. Then I notice that my left leg, the one in the cast, is in traction, elevated above my hip which would explain why I couldn't move it at all earlier when I tried. My upper abdomen itches and I move my hand across my torso to discover bandages underneath my hospital gown. My eyebrows furrow as I'm trying to understand what has happened. I look to Christian for answers.

"They had to take out your spleen," he whispers. I can tell he's right on the edge of sobbing as his expressions softens and saddens. "There was a lot of damage to your lungs, and one of your kidneys, too, but they're hoping that heals on its own." He's barely holding it together so I smile to reassure him. It must not be a very convincing smile because his breath hitches as he tries to compose himself. "You have three broken ribs, a broken femur, dislocated hip, and a pelvic fracture." He looks so desperate and it's making me so worried. Something — something important. I'm trying to remember what was so important but my brain is hazy and I can't quite get ahead of the conversation. "You had a concussion when they brought you in so they induced a coma so your body could heal and the swelling around your brain could go down safely. Your nose is broken, as is your left cheekbone, and there's a small hairline fracture near the base of your head." He's really trying to hold it together and I guess my scared and awed expression isn't helping him do that.

"What about..." Damn, what was it I had to ask him about. I stop and think really hard. It's almost like it hurts to think this hard. I give up after a moment and take a deep breath.

"They've got you on some pretty strong painkillers and sedatives. The doctors don't want you getting as upset as you did earlier because they're worried the stress will hurt your recovery, so you may have trouble thinking straight for a while."

I nod. I was so clear before. And this was so important... What was it?

Christian closes his eyes and puts his hand at the bottom of my stomach, spreading his hand wide. He leans over and kisses me there, sending an electric spark to my brain. Blip!

"The baby?" I can barely form the words as I feel my heart jump into my throat.

He lays his head on abdomen and totally loses any control he had over his expression, tears streaming onto my tummy as his face distorts in pain.

"I'm so sorry, Ana," he whispers. He sits up and pulls my body against to his, sobbing. I hear myself wail and I beat my arms on his shoulders with what little strength I have. He doesn't flinch and just grips me gently.

"I'm so sorry, Ana. I'm so sorry," he whispers in my ear over and over again. I eventually run out of steam entirely and just fall asleep in his arms.


I wake the next day feeling numb. None of the pain is reaching my brain anymore and all I feel is a profound sense of loss. I touch my stomach and cry. I'm alone and glad for it. Christian didn't want this baby and now he has his wish. I can't help but feel bitter resentment that he was so cruel and didn't love it before my Little Blip disappeared.

Looking up, I see Grace watching me, unreadable by the door. I try to perk myself up, and I'm sure she sees the effort because she walks in and sits next to my bed.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, both crying softly. I'm mourning the loss of the child I didn't even have yet. She's worried about her own daughter, surely.

Finally, I wipe my eyes and speak with my tiny, unstable voice, "How is Mia?" I realize I'm terrified what I might have done to her and a sense of intense guilt washes over me. My idiocy put Mia, Blip, and me in incredible danger. How could I have taken that kind of a risk?

Grace gives me a weak smile, "She's awake and doing a lot better. Christian's with her now. They're going to take her off the respirator this evening and if she breathes on her own, that's a really good sign." She gauges my reaction for a moment. "Thank you, Anastasia."

I blanch. Why is she thanking me? I wonder. I shot her daughter.

"You were so brave and you saved my daughter. I can never repay you for that," she says quietly, wringing her hands. "And you took such a personal risk for it, such a loss." She looks up and grasps my hand. "I'm sorry about the baby, Ana."

I can't keep myself together and the waterworks start again.

"But, I shot her! I am so sorry, Grace. You have to forgive me," I sob.

She pulls me into a soft embrace, stroking my face. "Don't you worry about that. If she wasn't found when she was, Lord knows what would have happened. She already had terrible injuries before the shot. If you hadn't gone to rescue her, she would probably be dead."

I still my breathing and sit back. Maybe Grace can give me some answers. I'm so desperate for information.

"Can I ask you about what happened? No one will tell me straight."

"Of course, dear," she sighs. Maybe she feels steeled with a sense of purpose, but she does seem more stable and calmer as she adjusts herself in the chair and starts to explain.

"You fired the gun three times: the first got Elizabeth Morgan in the chest and she died; the second hit Mia in the abdomen, damaging her right lung, but missing all her other organs; and the third missed and hit a wall. Jack Hyde then took the gun, beat you further, and made a getaway in the car. Sawyer, Taylor, and Christian found you a few minutes later while the police were working on tracking the cell phone you'd left in one of the bags, but Hyde found it a few blocks away and tossed it. He made a fairly clean escape."

I can feel the panic rising in my chest — he's still out there! What if he comes back to finish what he started?

Grace can see my agitation and takes my hand in hers for reassurance. "Seattle PD has posted cops all over the hospital, including outside your and Mia's doors. You're safe. He can't get to you now." She smiles. "If you hadn't woken up when you did, the police wouldn't know who they were looking for until they realized he'd skipped bail.

I smile back her but there's no conviction in it.

"You're job now is to recuperate. You have to heal up nice and quickly so Christian doesn't have a coronary from the stress," she says, smiling. "I really can't thank you enough for everything you've done for this family. You've saved my daughter, you've given my son his life back. You're an angel from heaven."

She stands up, planting a loving kiss on the top of my head.

"He hasn't left your bedside in two weeks. He's been so worried about you."

I think about Christian and feel so confused. I love him so much but I loved Blip, too, and now that part of me, that part of Christian is gone. My hand automatically goes to that empty place.

"He is so happy you're okay, but he's devastated about losing the baby. I don't know that he'll ever forgive himself for not telling you he was happy about the baby." She starts to walk out, then stops and turns, "I don't know that I'll ever forgive him for it, either, Ana." She smiles and leaves.