FIFTY SHADES FORGOTTEN
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 21
~ CHRISTIAN ~
"I have no other choice than to find the defendant, Christian Trevelyan Grey, guilty on one count of domestic abuse and both counts of unlawful restraint. I hereby extend the established restraining order indefinitely; further sentencing to be announced within seventy-two hours. Bailiff, please remove Mr. Grey to a holding cell."
What? The wood-on-wood bang of the gavel shatters my pulsing eardrums. NO! This can't happen! This can't be the way it ends… the way my life ends. The words burst from my lips, unchecked. "This is outrageous!" Meaty hands wrench my arm in a vise behind my back, and it burns. "Don't touch me!" I pull away, and a second Neanderthal comes to hold my other arm. "Stop touching me!"
"Christian!" My mother's voice rings out from the gallery, filled with pain and disbelief. "Please don't hurt my son!"
"Mother, take care of Ana and Teddy! Promise me!" I shout, my wrists secured by cold steel at my back. A hand pushes against my chest, and I recoil. The pain is no phantom, and it's excruciating. "I said don't fucking touch me!"
"Come on, Mr. Grey," the first insists.
"We promise. I'll appeal this, son, just go quietly for now." My father has moved to my mother's side, his arm around her shoulders as she sobs, his eyes lowered in defeat. He can't even look at me.
They didn't let her into the courtroom. They wouldn't let her anywhere near me. I didn't get to say goodbye.
I didn't get to say goodbye.
"Ana!" The scream bubbles from my throat. She can't hear me, she's nowhere near, but I can't rein it in. "Ana, I'm sorry! I love you! I'm sorry!"
"Mr. Grey!"
Firm hands grasp my shoulders, shoving me forward.
"Mr. Grey! Sir!"
"Gah!"
A very real image of Mrs. Taylor snaps into view, eyebrows raised. "Sir? Your father is on the phone for you."
Cold air fills my lungs, chilling the spray of droplets across my skin. I feel as though I'm on fire. Oh, of all the motherfucking nightmares... My heart continues to pound as though it may fail at any minute, and the residue of acid claws the back of my tongue.
"Tell him I'll call him back."
"He instructed me to wake you. I'm sorry, sir…"
I rip the twisted sheets violently from where they've held my body captive, much to the dismay of my housekeeper. She hands me the phone and beats a hasty retreat.
"Dad."
"Christian, I know you have a lot on your mind at the moment, but your mother is asking for you. Again."
Shit.
"What time is it?" I rub my face, glaring toward the heavy drapes pulled over the windows.
"It's after nine. Are you feeling all right?"
Am I? No, I don't believe I am. "I'll be there in an hour."
~oOo~
"Excuse me, Dr. Trevelyan… Sir, I have Welch on the line for you," Sawyer nods apologetically toward my mother from the doorway.
Damn it, Welch… you could have taken the hint when I didn't answer the last two calls. I'm with my sick mother, for Christ's sake. "Tell him to hold."
"Oh, darling, it's all right," my mother dismisses. "Go take over the world or whatever it is you do on a Sunday. I'll be just fine. I'm glad you stopped by." She squeezes my hand in both of hers.
She didn't press me when I said Ana and Teddy were otherwise occupied. She didn't dig when I apologized for not being back since this all began, but I can see it in her eyes. She knows something is wrong. I wonder if Dad said something to her, not the truth, obviously… else she'd have crawled up my right nostril and self-detonated. This isn't news she can handle at the moment, or ever, if I have a say.
"I love you, Mom. I'll try to come back later." I press a kiss to her forehead, and she strokes my cheek once before releasing me.
My late start and the unscheduled detour to the hospital has suspended my warpath mentality for the moment, which bodes favorably for Sawyer… he looks damned nervous enough as he hands the phone over and follows a step behind.
"What, Welch?"
"I just received confirmation from forensics: the letters are a perfect match."
Tell me something I didn't already know. "And the evidence?"
"I've hit a dead end. Whatever this guy knows, there's a tight lid on it. I can't get any of my contacts at the district to talk, and I've called in a dozen favors. I'll keep on it."
Shit. Well, at least my gag order is doing its job. If the media hasn't snuck it out of somebody, there's no getting to it except through official channels, and those I can keep plugged up for years, if not indefinitely. "Keep me posted." I click the end button and toss it back to Sawyer. Now what?
"I arranged the items you asked for, Sir. They'll be delivered tomorrow as instructed."
I let out a resounding sigh and step into the elevator, pinching the bridge of my nose in an effort to ward off the storm of a migraine brewing on the horizon. I'd very much like to explode, for all the pent-up frustration festering deep within my psyche. The mental tally of checks on the to-do list outnumbers the unchecked, but the latter are proving quite obstructive and increasingly worrisome. I just want this fucking done. Over with. I'm certain my army of Grey House lawyers would have Kane's ass seared and served to him on a paper plate by noon tomorrow, with extra sauce and a buttered roll. No… I can't risk involving them, even with NDAs in place. The fewer that know of my past, the quieter this can be dealt with. My reputation isn't all that's at stake.
This entire situation is infuriating; it's so far beyond my comprehension, and the things I comprehend likely exceed the above average person a hundred fold. What the fuck does he have on me? On us? My greater fear is that this lie of a letter has borne further fabrication, the likes of which fit some ambiguous circumstance and aims the arrow directly between my eyes. Unlikelier things have happened before.
Ana would normally try to distract me from this absurdity, at least, the part of her who truly knew me. This reset version of my Ana wouldn't… doesn't… know how to handle me. But she loves me, loves me and agreed to be mine, before all this began. That's what I have to hold onto. I'm going to beat these charges to a bloody pulp, whatever they are, and then I'm going to sweep my girl away and put all this behind us. Ugh, the need for her is maddening… I need to run a marathon, something… any outlet. Unfortunately, the only activity I should pursue at the moment is most women's go-to activity.
Retail therapy. My wife requires a birthday gift. Several, in fact.
Let's see how badly I can screw this up.
Sawyer steps out ahead of me at the parking level and nods the 'all clear.' I jerk my head toward the vehicle. "Come. We have shopping to do."
~ ANA ~
My birthday came and went. It wasn't as uneventful as I'd have liked. I'm trying not to think about it.
The shiny, lacquered wood bench seat is smooth and hard under my fingers, the grooves weathered there leaving the feeling that others, nervous as I am, had also worried over the softening lines. My legs uncross and I tuck them under me. Nope this isn't comfortable either. They re-cross, right bouncing over left, and I smooth my skirt.
Kate helped me dress this morning. I honestly have no idea what I'd do without her; I don't pay attention to things like what people wear to court, other than what I've seen in passing through our living room in the Portland apartment when she has Law and Order streaming on Netflix. Or, rather, had... I have to remind myself sometimes, even now, that most things I remember happened three or more years ago. God, this is frustrating. I ought to be so mad, and I am, but what's getting angry at everyone going to do? How is that going to help Christian or his dad work through this? My subconscious and I had words last night about proper channeling of frustration, and we've decided that my best friend isn't a proper target, especially after all she'd tried to do to make my birthday special. I'll be apologizing to her for a while. Somehow, she sees through my bad mood and picks up my hand, squeezing it in hers. Yes, she came with us today, too, though I told her I could handle it. Things couldn't possibly get any weirder, and honestly, I'm over the drama. Not going to let it get to me, no way.
Nope, not going to do it.
I'm not even sure why I'm here this morning; no one has called me into the room. Carrick indicated that his District Attorney friend had made time to hear new evidence on that letter... which I still have not read and don't really care to. The idea of actually seeing the words, the handwriting, it feels as though it would taint me or worse, make me believe the lie. I won't subject myself to that; there's enough confusion in my life without having distortions of the truth added to it. And hopefully, if everything goes well in there this morning, all this mess will be resolved before lunch. My fingers are crossed, and so are my legs, left bouncing over right.
The door at the end of the hall swings open, and a dark, heavyset man in business attire pushes through ahead of my father-in-law. They stop to shake hands, and the unknown gentleman disappears through another door. Their faces give nothing away.
I stand and smooth my skirt. "What happened?"
Carrick brings up his arm to circle my shoulders, inferring that I should turn and walk with him. Kate's arm comes around my waist. She's been eerily quiet, unlike her and probably the fault of my sour disposition yesterday, but she's steadfastly been my rock and my soft place. God, if only every girl had a best friend like Kate Kavanagh… er, Grey. Still getting used to that.
Something silently calls me to look back, though, and I get a glimpse of Christian, his hands shoved in the pockets of his gray suit pants… oh, how stunning they are on his beautiful body. He stands tall and determined, just beyond the far door, in something of an exchange with Taylor. The pull is tactile. I just barely swallow the urge to duck under Carrick's arm and run to my husband; the need to feel his arms around me far more pressing than the desire to know where everything currently stands, where we stand.
"Come along, my dear. There's still some work to do."
My eyes haven't left their goal, and just as I'm about to be led away, his gaze connects with mine.
His lips part fractionally, and my belly stirs.
"I know, Ana." Carrick grasps my shoulder and gently pulls me to him. "Christian sends his love. We have to go now."
The restraining order, of course. What a bunch of crap that is. Or perhaps it isn't; I couldn't possibly know. Everything boils down to that letter, and some secret evidence this detective-lawyer-whatever guy Kane has on Christian. The small part of me who is curious to know receives a swift kick from the other part, the one who, perhaps irrationally, doesn't care what it says, even if it's true. Any sense of self-preservation seems to go out the window where Christian is concerned, in spite of the entourage of sexy weirdness that surrounds him. I risk another glance backward, and the slate eyes that meet mine are burning. It makes my mouth water. The ding of the elevator. Sawyer ushers us inside, Carrick's arm heavily around me. There's a sudden shift, and the gray eyes rush toward me, his hands reaching out, as the doors close. Then, despair... and darkness.
~ CHRISTIAN ~
District Attorney Ronald Williams is a Dominant personality, to be sure. In the lifestyle, you learn that you don't possess a certain way of being, you either are, or you aren't. As for the individual's display of control, you either do, and are able to give the appearance of a moderate nature, or you don't, and it all hangs out like a badly tucked shirt. I recognized Williams in his true element this morning coming off the elevator. I dialed down my own, reluctantly of course, permitting logic and an even temper to reign. I can only imagine how my father feels, taking in our verbal tennis match. He seems to better understand, now, the restraint it takes to keep myself in check.
I'll need at least twelve rounds with Claude when we're finished.
"Libel is a very serious accusation, considering the nature of the charges, Mr. Grey. Are you absolutely sure?" he tests.
Of course we're fucking sure. "The evidence speaks for itself, Mr. Williams. My forensic specialist matched the handwriting, and you see the pictorial signature in the corner of both letters. The author's identity is clear."
He glares at me. Not menacingly, but it is a calculating expression, one I'd spent many of my formative years learning to conceal. That in itself is a small victory, and I mentally log each and every one.
"You won't mind if I have my own specialist run another comparison."
"Not at all. We'd expect as much," my father adds. "Once your results confirm the author's identity, my client would like to file a counter-suit against Mr. Kane, and another to address the matter of the libel against my son."
"We'll have to bring her in for questioning first," Williams adds, "but considering the way the pieces fit together, that course would be my recommendation as well." He sighs. "You will have to contend with the photos,
however."
"Photos?" we exclaim at once.
Fuck. "What photos?"
"Yes, Mr. Kane's further evidence, I thought you were aware of their form. They depict you in a rather unflattering light with regard to your wife, Mr. Grey. I take your reaction to indicate that you were unaware they'd been taken."
Of course I didn't fucking know. These days, anyone with a phone can take photos discreetly whenever they like. "Are they authentic? Who took them?" I demand.
"Mr. Kane took them himself, and there's no indication of tampering thus far. They've been examined at length."
That fucker was following us? How did I not know? How did Taylor not know? "Where? When?" I demand, my fingers locked rigid to avoid white-knuckling the arms of the leather chair. I can't give up the appearance of control, though my insides scream with impatience.
"I'm not sure of those details; haven't yet seen them myself. I've convinced Judge Matthews to take a special interest in this case; he's privy to the specifics of all evidence and given me discretion in moving things along. I'll have the graphologist downstairs take a look at the letters immediately. If they check out, I'll issue the warrant for questioning. And if all goes well, we'll have a confession by close of business today. But even if Mr. Kane were to withdraw his photos from the body of evidence, the box has been opened. The court is required by law to investigate the circumstances and ensure, as you maintain, that you pose no danger to your wife or your son."
Irritation bubbles in a viscous mass, like microwaved oatmeal. I tried that once, with disastrous results. And then Ana laughed at me. That made me mad too, but that was surficial; my pride was all that was at stake, and she can have it once in a while, if it brings a smile to her face. No, this is deep, cutting, stinging anger, the bitter reminder that I'm not in control of this situation. I'm sick of feeling like this. I cannot live this way, with this level of uncertainty, in the knowledge that my basic freedoms are threatened. Williams doesn't have to say it. I know that if I don't prove I'm not the monster they think I am, the monster I occasionally tend to be, that I may lose everything.
I need to see those fucking pictures.
My father reads my mind. "My client and I will need to see the photos. When can that be arranged?"
Williams shifts in his seat. "I'll apply for their limited release, and have a deputy bring them to your office. They'll have to remain in your possession only, as per Mr. Grey's gag order." He gestures to me.
My father raises his eyebrow and peers in my direction. Yes, Dad. NDAs all around. I cannot afford to let this get out; it would ruin my reputation, and the thousands who work for me would inadvertently suffer. It's quite a house of cards I've built. My silent, even expression is all the confirmation he needs.
"Agreed." Dad's eyes shift forward again. "May I assume you've arranged for a closed hearing, per our request?"
"Sealed up tight. Depending on what we find out today, we could be in front of the judge by Friday morning. Will that work for you?"
In the scope of most proceedings, this isn't simply being fast-tracked. it's downright miraculous. But it had better be, considering the favors being pulled and my already generous contributions to the greater community. It's pleasing to see that my longstanding efforts have not gone unnoticed, and that there's the stereotypical fear that such donations may be redistributed should the case not be handled quickly, thoroughly, and, without saying, quietly.
Clearly, Williams understands the immediate economic value of keeping Christian Grey's private life, well… fucking private.
I sit and absorb the legal banter as he and my father discuss more specifics, breathing evenly to generate focus on the proper things to do, rather than what I'd like to be doing at the moment. I'd prefer to deal with the bitch myself. I'd thought she'd finally taken the hint after Ana and I were married. It's… troubling, for lack of a better word… that she couldn't let this go, let me go. And now she stands to lose everything, and so do I, should she be called to testify in my wife's presence. What she may say could wound Ana so deeply, I fear pondering whether she'll want anything to do with me after this is finished. But it's the best chance I have.
And then, there are the photos to deal with. Fuck me sideways. There had better not be anything else.
I'm instructed not to contact our dear author, whose name I can't even stomach to think for the wrath it pours into my soul. I thought I knew her, or at least, what she's capable of. Damn it Grey, stop thinking. Just stop.
Dad declines to have Ana join us, though the injunction against me does not apply within the grounds of the courthouse so long as she has representation present, stating he'll fill her in. I wonder if that's more for my benefit or Ana's… God I miss her. We stand and Williams offers his hand. Dad mutters that he'll be in touch when he and Ana have reviewed the pictures, and to give him a five minute head start before departing. There's a shuffling of bodies and Taylor is once again at my side. I owe the man a vacation when this is done; Sawyer as well. Sawyer, who is probably within inches of my wife at the moment, while I remain here, restrained once again by words on a document filed in a concrete-and-fluorescent room somewhere downstairs.
My eyes lift to the doorway and beyond, and I steel myself when I see the familiar long brunette tresses. The small group leading Ana away regards me with something between understanding, sympathy and duty. And then Ana's eyes find mine. I'm not sure how long we stare at one another, but her eyes plead to my heart: come to me. A sharp hook in my belly yanks me forward, but I resist, as the pain disembowels me.
"We'll wait a few minutes, Taylor." He knows why.
"Very good, sir."
Dad leads her gently away, her body resistantly compliant. My sister-in-law draws her in close, and I revel gratefully in the support that surrounds my wife in my stead.
And then, just before the elevator doors close, she crumples to the floor.
"No!" the word leaves my lips in a rush of blood to my legs. The whole of my body goes numb, unfeeling, and unreactive to opposition. Arms shoot out to hold me, and I shove them aside, slamming through the stairwell door and throwing myself over the railing, bounding steps five at a time to the garage level, praying that this is the elevator's destination.
She's on the ground in my father's arms when the door opens, Kate frantically patting her hands, Sawyer hovering over them and shouting into his sleeve.
The arms lock around me again, stronger now, hauling me away, a voice calling something to me. I don't hear the words, but it brings a rush of remembrance, and just a sliver of control, and I force myself rigid. Oh God, don't do this, not now. Not when I can't touch her. I fall to my knees, and Taylor follows me to the ground. His arms remain locked at my shoulders, but relax ever so slightly.
"I'm going to release you now, Sir," he tells me, and slowly unbands his arms, but remains within reach. The pull reignites. It takes every ounce of control to remain where I am, just a mere meter away. The words bubble to my lips, strangled and desperate. "Ana? Come back, baby, please try..."
"Mmm..." she whimpers, and her face tightens. "Christian?"
"Yes, baby. I'm here. You're safe."
"Sir, they'll take good care of her. We should go."
I can't, not now. Jesus, why does this keep happening to her? "Dad, take her to the hospital. I'm begging you."
"No..." Ana whispers.
"Baby, please, just let Dad and Kate take care of you."
"Sir."
"Yes, Taylor!" I'll deal with my right hand later. My voice softens considerably. "Talk to me, Ana."
"Mmm... no hospital."
"Did you see something, sweetie?" Kate looks between us. Those two and their talk... I imagine Ms. Kavanagh-Grey knows, quite emphatically, everything.
"The elevator… doors with mirrors. Your face... so sad..." she murmurs between cleansing breaths.
My brain does the math. Recognition is immediate… the Escala elevator.
The day she left me.
Fuck.
"Christian, we'll take care of her. Please go," my father instructs.
I consider ignoring him. "It's all right, baby. Please, go with Dad and Kate and get checked out." I glance to her best friend, and we exchange what could only pass as a silent understanding. I grit my teeth. "Don't leave her." I swallow hard and return my gaze to my poor, ailing wife. "Ana, I love you."
And I tear myself away, leaving my soul behind... what's left of it.
~oOo~
I made Taylor stop and park the vehicle a safe distance away from the garage exit, and waited until the SUV carrying my wife departed before allowing him to take me home. I just couldn't leave her. Dad called shortly after to let me know that they'd arrived, that a doctor was seeing her. I heard her voice in the background, and it nearly broke me.
Taylor took refuge in the control room. We haven't yet exchanged real words. I comprehend why he held me back, and I'm perpetually grateful to him, but officially, it was an act of insubordination. I can't let it go, no matter how professional Jason has been over the years, and no matter how close we've become. It gives me something to dwell on, but it doesn't distract me from thoughts of Ana.
I've spoken with my father twice more and Sawyer once in the hour since Ana's episode. She's resting comfortably, they tell me, they're waiting on test results, and she'll be released shortly after. I should be with her. I should fucking be at her side.
"Gah!" My arm swings, connecting with a driftwood sculpture. The resounding crash does nothing to temper me, and I reach for a decorative marble orb, lobbing it into the back window. The crack of glass, and the sounding of the alarm system pierces the air. Another orb, another crack of glass. The alarm rings on. The shout of Taylor's voice. Another orb, the spidering of shatterproof glass. I take the mahogany bowl holding the remaining marble projectiles and hurl it away.
Taylor stands rooted in the doorway when I turn, arms spread and palms forward, a gesture meant to subdue. The rage is hardly pacified, but I snap out of it, and like clockwork, the alarm falls silent.
My phone rings.
"Grey."
"Mr. Grey, Ron Williams. I've been made aware of what happened to your wife as her party left the building this morning."
There goes the neighborhood.
"I imagined you would. My father took her to the hospital; she's been admitted for observation."
"Yes, I've already spoken with him. He mentioned it was one of her memory episodes, and seems a very worrisome event, I must say. My official concern, however, is your disregard for the restraining injunction. Technically, I should be sending a unit to your home to arrest you for violation of the distance mandate."
I hear the conflict in his voice. "But you aren't going to do that."
There's a slight hesitation. "Not at this time. Judge Matthews and I spoke briefly and reviewed the security tape, and we agree that your concern for Mrs. Grey was a sincere reaction to the situation, and the fact that you didn't touch her indicates a level of self-control I've not seen in many men in your current legal position. We're going to overlook the violation, this time," he warns.
"I appreciate it." I swallow, the tension in my stomach lessening fractionally.
"Out of curiosity, is it always like that? She just drops without warning?" he continues. "I've read the notes on her evaluation, of course. I need to make an entry of this event for the record."
Of course, should my family decide to sue the courthouse for some obscure safety violation that may have triggered Ana's episode. But I won't do that; it wouldn't make sense to, and could be construed as blackmail on some level to perhaps turn the proceedings in my favor. I smell a test.
The Dom in me wants to play along, to end this ridiculous legal battle quickly, by whatever means necessary. My ever-successful business sense knocks him flat on his ass with one blow.
"There's no rhyme or reason to her episodes, Mr. Williams. On occasion she's remained conscious, but those times seem to be outliers."
"I see. Well I sincerely hope she makes a full recovery. I'll let you get back to your day. And Grey?"
"Hmm?"
"Mind the restraining order."
"Always my intention," I offer. "Any progress?"
He sighs. "It seems my graphologist agrees with you. I just dispatched a warrant officer to pick her up. I'll give you a call when I have some answers."
~oOo~
"Will that be all, Sir?"
Taylor hovers in the doorway. My office smells of sealant and window cleaner. Replacing the damaged glass took under two hours, but the time away from my office forced me to roam the rest of the house, waiting… waiting… with Ludwig hot on my heels. Tess was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Mrs. Taylor. I presume they're consoling one another over my outburst.
"A moment, Taylor." I wave toward the chairs.
"Sir." He sinks stiffly onto the seat, back rigid.
I blow out a breath. Even I'm not sure how to approach this. "I can't decide whether to thank you or fire you."
"Yes, Sir." He gulps. It's all the emotion I'll see from the man, and I'm grateful.
I swallow as well. "Considering I'm not currently in police custody, I'm leaning toward the former."
Jason shifts slightly, but remains silent.
I round my desk and sink into the chair across from him. "We've toed a few lines over the years, you and I."
My right hand tilts his head to the affirmative.
"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. I don't know how to handle this." I run my fingers through my hair, and they come to rest at the back of my neck, rubbing slightly. "Things like this are going to come up, rarely, but they'll happen. I'm not comfortable with it. My head of security should never have to restrain me, and it's happened twice in under as many weeks. The fact that both cases occurred semi-publicly…" It occurs to me that I'm transferring some of the blame for my own lack of self-control. But he shouldn't have touched me… is that what this is really about? God, I'm so confused.
"My apologies, Sir."
"No, Taylor." I shake my head. "You shouldn't have to apologize." It's the best I can offer without admitting my own wrongdoing. The boss doesn't openly admit such things.
"Sir, if I may speak freely…"
"Go ahead."
He swallows again. "It is sometimes… difficult… acting as your head of security."
No shit. "Continue."
"It's been even more difficult since Mrs. Grey's accident."
Again, no shit. "Continue."
He shifts slightly, his discomfort subtle but obvious. "Well, Sir… I've often wondered whether I'm serving you in the best capacity."
What? The chill of abandonment washes through me. I'd as much as threatened to fire him, but the realization that I could never follow through is paralyzing. I blow out a breath, shaking my head. "Don't go there, Jason." Don't leave us.
He gulps again. "Yes, Sir."
"Let's, uh… not speak of this again." I rise, rubbing my damp palms over the legs of my slacks.
Taylor rises as well. "Understood, Sir." He eyes the exit. "Will there be anything else?"
A tugging on the leg of my pants draws my eyes downward. I pick up the lanky gray dog and hold him out. "See if Gail has the other one. They're, uh… bothering me." Make sure Gail and Tess are all right. And keep them away; they remind me of my family.
"Yes, Sir."
~ ANA ~
I'm so mad. And tired. I want to get out of here.
"They were taken out of context, Ana. I admit, they do appear… alarming. Just explain, if they ask, exactly the way you just did for me."
"Will Judge Matthews understand?" I ask.
Carrick blows out a breath. I've seen Christian do this… nurture over nature, I suppose. "He will take your account of things into consideration. There's more to it than accepting your word; circumstance plays a significant role. And Christian will explain himself as well. The D.A. has informed me that Kane will call a few witnesses. We won't know who some of them are until the hearing on Friday, but we'll call a few of our own. I'll go over everything you need to know before then. I promise you'll be as prepared as possible."
That's the day after tomorrow. Holy shit. "So soon? I thought things like this took a while to go through the system…"
"For the average case, this is true. Fortunately for our case, and sadly for others. It's not a perfect system, but in the end, it helps to be the immediate family of Christian Grey."
Huh? My brain twists with the tangent of thoughts that sprout from that last statement. "Did he pay someone off?" I blurt, immediately regretting how that came out.
"Of course not, no. That would be illegal," he tells me. "Christian… both you and Christian make a number of financial and service contributions to the community. Such generosity breeds a tendency toward recognition and special treatment. It's an unfair advantage, I admit, but not an unwelcome one under the circumstances." He covers my folded hands with one of his own. "If it consoles you, such mindsets will have no real bearing on the outcome of the case. It simply makes the system more efficient."
Oh, now that makes me mad. Special treatment for the rich, while the poor have little hope of adequate representation, and the wrongfully accused can rot in a cell for God knows how long until the system gets around to a trial. When this is over, I make a vow to take my newfound status as a member of this so-called elite community and do… something… anything… to make that right, or at least, better than it is. It's the least I can do.
I sigh. "How's Grace today?"
"She's doing well. I'll have to leave you for a while to accompany her for a few tests, but when I return, your discharge papers should be in order, and I'll take you home. I'm sure Teddy will be glad to see you."
I nod. My poor Teddy. If the last several months haven't screwed him up for good… I can't even think it. He's such a sweet, sensitive little boy. I imagine so much of this has him constantly terrified. I wish he were here right now. I want my baby. My eyes fill with angry tears.
"It's going to be all right, my dear." Carrick cups my cheek and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Don't fret. Get some rest, and I'll be back in a while."
I nod, blinking back the tears. God, I'm tired. So tired, of all of this, of this case, of these ridiculous episodes, of hospitals, of tearing my father-in-law away from his wife who quite frankly needs him far more… of not being who Teddy needs me to be, regardless how attached to him I've become. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not in control of my own destiny. A sudden surge of purpose sweeps away the some of the exhaustion, some of the uncertainty, and all at once, I'm no longer put off by the shortness of time until the hearing. I wish we were there now. I'm going to give the lot of them what-for. Ray used to tell me, "Don't stand in the background and let others dictate who you are. My girl is a fighter. Act like it." That's a lot of words in one string for Ray, and they lasso the scattered pieces of me and pull them together. I'm no weakling. Maybe a little unworthy, but I'm no pushover, and I won't be labeled as such.
It doesn't matter what I think I deserve. I know what I want, and I won't stop until I have it. All of it.
CHAPTER 22
~ ANA ~
It's morning… I think. Cloudy, cooler. A squeal alerts me. Throwing off the covers, I fling the window open in a matter of seconds and look down.
Two stories below, Teddy runs through the dewy grass in his little red jacket and pajama bottoms, the puppies nipping at his heels. Hmm… one of the guys must have brought them over for us. I rest my elbows on the cold sill and watch them play a moment. A knit-hatted figure appears from under the porch eaves, jogs over to Teddy and scoops him up, swinging him around. Teddy giggles wildly.
The figure looks up toward my window, and gray eyes find mine.
"Christian…" I whisper.
He's here! He's here? My brain cries out. I shake off the impending questions and anxiety, and he waves me to join them.
I don't need to be asked twice.
Wooly feet find the landing at warp speed and slide across the hardwood. Has Gretchen polished the floors this morning? I yank off my socks by the toes and marvel at the traction rewarded my bare feet as I sprint through to the back door. I throw it open and skid to a halt at the edge of the porch.
They were here. They were just here.
"Teddy?" I call. "Christian!"
"Right here," I hear my husband's voice. I spin once, almost missing a wisp of movement down the path to the docks.
"Wait for me!" I call. My feet find squishy soil and leaves, slick with recent rain, and the traction is gone once again. "Christian!"
"I'm here, baby. Come to me."
"I'm trying! A little help, please?"
"You can do it, Ana."
The soil has turned to mud, and I've sunk to the ankles. Great.
"Please, Christian! Christian?"
Silence.
I've sunk further… oh come on, am I dreaming? I cross my arms, and looking up to the sky, I curse out my subconscious for dangling the thing I want most in my face and then snatching it away, for making me believe, for a second, that this is real.
What a bitch. We're going to have words when I wake up. "Okay, I'd like to wake up now," I say to no one in particular.
Nothing.
"Come on, I get it, this isn't real. Give me another dream or wake me up. And don't be cute and put me naked in a public place," I instruct the dream fairy.
Still nothing.
I sigh heavily. Not a real sigh, I suppose, but real enough to show my exasperation. I thought that once a person is aware that they're dreaming, they can make themselves wake up? Whoever said that might want to add a disclaimer.
It's getting darker. Wait, did I do that? Over the water, a fog rolls gently, softly covering the lightly lapping waves. At least it's something. It'd be nice to have some company.
"Oh Aaaaaaaana…"
Cripes! I nearly jump out of my skin.
I whirl in the dirt, causing my legs to tangle and I fall wrist-deep into the muck. At least it isn't real muck. My eyes draw upward from legs to torso, coming to rest on a face, a face… have I seen him before?
He clicks his tongue. "Now look at you. Who'd want you like this?" He grabs my elbow and roughly rights me. Piercing eyes stab mine. A few wisps of greasy hair escape his ponytail, and he sweeps his hand over his head. "Missed me, didn't you?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know…"
"Yes you do!" He spits. "You ruined my life! You and that fucked-up husband of yours." He gasps. "Oh, I see… he didn't tell you about me. Well, I suppose that's in my favor." He pulls me along the path, having no trouble with footing, but I stumble all the way. Damn it all, this is supposed to be my dream! What the hell is going on? And who is this asshole?
"Hurry up, bitch… you're going to give me what you owe me."
"What I owe you? Ahhhh!" He's grabbed me by the hair. Wait, this shouldn't hurt, it's only a dream. I grab his hand and twist, and as he releases me, I shove him hard in the chest. Finally, some control. "I don't know you! Get out of my head!" I yell, more to myself… as of course, the creep isn't really here.
And neither am I.
The fog rolls in, and as my assailant is swallowed by it, he laughs maniacally.
"Enough already!" I yell.
The fog churns, as if digesting its prey, and then settles into its swirling. It hasn't receded.
I narrow my eyes, unable to make out the water that's surely beneath me from the rushing sound of waves under the dock… I'm here, splintered boards under dry feet. My hands are clean as well. It would be nice if my dreams made sense, for once.
"Ana…"
If my ears could swivel toward the sound, they would. It's all around, echoing.
"Ana…"
"Ana…"
"Ana…"
"What? Who's there? Show yourself!"
"Count, Ana…"
"What?"
"I said count!"
And the pain rips through my head, rendering me blind.
~oOo~
More voices. This time, I can't see, and I can't move… I can't even see myself. Darkness, the kind that one only experiences in the void, encompasses everything. But I can hear.
"Anything?" Wait… is that… Ray? Oh, Dad…
There's no response.
"Can I get you anything?"
Again, silence.
"You going to stay the night?"
Stay? Who? I may never know, for his companion doesn't utter a word.
"Okay. You call if anything… changes."
I feel something warm touch my face… and my right hand. What? Oh, this is weird. Where the hell am I? Am I still asleep?
I hear a distinct sigh on the left, and feel something shift at my side.
~oOo~
It's a while before I hear voices again. A while… the concept of time eludes me.
"We found something." The crinkle of bending plastic… or film?
"My God."
"It's very small, but it should be taken care of right away."
"Outside. Now." Is that…
Shuffling. No, wait! I want to hear… what's going on? Help me!
~oOo~
The darkness eases to blurry gray. I'm suddenly very thirsty.
"Mmm…" I groan. Wait a minute… did that come from me? I try again… yes! I will my body to obey, my eyes to open...
It's dark here too. A vertical slit of soft white to the left, and nothing to the right.
I groan again… no response. I can't lick my lips, they're far too dry.
My eyelids feel like iron weights.
~oOo~
"… and that's the difference between a product and market extension merger." Paper rustling. "The market is still down. I think we may wait to acquire that cellular tech company after all." More rustling. There's that shift again! Something warm brushes my arm. "Come on, baby. I'm trying here. Work with me."
Fuck. Me. Sideways. Christian? Oh, brain… don't you dare mess with me again. I manage a small, low groan.
"Ana?"
My eyelids won't budge. And my head hurts. My dry tongue nudges my lips.
"Baby, can you hear me?" His desperation is palpable.
"Thirs-ty," I whisper.
"Of course. Of course," he babbles, and there's more rustling. I hear liquid pouring. Seconds later, something prods my open lips. A straw. I drink weakly, but greedily. Water has never been so delicious before.
"That's enough, baby, you'll make yourself sick. More in a little while." The straw leaves, and my tongue pushes the new moisture around my mouth.
"Can you open your eyes?"
I try. It's hazy, and my eyelids are heavy.
"Good girl."
Barely in view, and absolutely bedraggled, Christian's eyes are rimmed in red.
"Hi," I whisper.
He chokes a sob. "Hi, baby."
"You're here."
"I'm here."
"But what about..." I can't finish. What do I want to say? I can barely speak, much less articulate complex questions.
"It's fine for now, baby. Don't you worry." He looks past me toward a dark corner far across the suite. "See him?"
There's a figure in a chair reading a magazine. He glances up for a moment, and then returns to his reading.
"Court-appointed security for you. He's keeping an eye on us... on me, rather. It's the only way the judge would let me see you."
"Oh." My head throbs mercilessly. I close my eyes.
Long fingers brush softly over my forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Head hurts."
"I know, love. I'm sorry." He shifts against the bed, and my eyes open in time to see him press a button attached to a tube and some wires. "Let me know if that helps. Should be quick."
A light wave of relief creeps upward, making my head foggy. Well, foggier. "What..."
"Pain relief, baby. Only once every couple hours. See this light? Red means it's been pushed recently. If you need more, I'll get the nurse, all right?"
"Okay."
He sighs. "Better?"
"Yes." As the pain subsides, I'm reminded that I don't know why I'm here. Actually, I don't remember leaving... wasn't I supposed to go home with Carrick?
"Do you remember what happened?" Christian prods. What a mind-reader.
"No," I say softly.
He draws a long breath. "Sawyer called to report that you'd had a seizure, just before you were set to be discharged. He and Dad were with you at the time, thank God. You wouldn't wake up." His voice is low, quiet. "You scared me to death."
"I... don't remember..."
"It's all right, love," he rubs his hand over my tubed arm, clasping my fingers with his other. "The doctor found a small clot near the original injury site. It wasn't detected in earlier scans due to its proximity to the healing fracture. They operated on you late yesterday, to fix it."
"Am I..."
"You're okay, baby. You'll be just fine." He presses his lips to the back of my hand. "I love you. So much, Anastasia."
"Love you, too." My voice sounds terrible. "Teddy?"
"Kate has him. He's fine."
I swallow. My mouth is dry again. My mind-reader pours more water into the cup and brings the straw to my lips. Again, he doesn't let me drink too much at once. Ever the control freak.
"Tell me," I ask.
He picks up my hand again. "You didn't miss much. When I heard what happened, I called the District Attorney directly. He's friends with my father... and he put me in touch with the judge, and due to the circumstances he lifted the restraining order while you're here, under the condition that an officer of the court is present when I'm with you. It doesn't cover Teddy, but at the time... you needed me more."
I sigh. It feels good to breathe. "Thank you." I'm not sure what I'm thanking him for... for being here, however briefly, for getting the judge to agree, however temporarily, for holding my hand... or all of the above. I return his gentle squeeze.
"You're going to have to stop scaring me like that, Mrs. Grey," he scolds me gently, smirking.
The corners of my mouth twitch. Leave it to Christian to lighten the mood after such angst-ridden conversation. He's so damned mercurial.
But I don't think I've ever loved him more.
"Do you remember anything else?" he asks.
Anything else... anything... oh, like another episode? No, I don't think it was like that, was it? "I don't think so, can't remember," I say, honestly.
He nods. "The doctors think your episodes may stop now, but it's too early to be sure."
"What about the hearing?"
Christian's expression changes, from mild to worried and then back again. "I've conversed with the judge twice more since Wednesday, and he's agreed to a small sit-down next week or the week after, when you're up for it. Apparently Mr. Kane is having second thoughts whether he wants to pursue this. He'll still be involved; what things he's investigated will need to be explained, but Dad and I are both confident that we can resolve this amicably."
And in darkness, there is hope. "What time is it..." I whisper, and realize, slowly as my brain catches up, that I meant 'what day.'
"Nearly midnight on Friday." He strokes my forehead. "You just missed Ray; he'll be back in the morning. He's been beside himself. We all have."
Good grief; I need to stop ending up in hospital beds. The past few months have been enough for a lifetime. "Sorry," I manage.
"No, baby, you have nothing to apologize for," he tells me, bringing my palm to his cheek and holding it there. "This wasn't your fault. None of it is. I should be taking better care of you."
"Stop," I whisper. If I can't blame myself, neither can he. "You didn't do anything wrong." He closes his tired eyes, his brow furrowing. I brush my thumb over his prickly stubble. "Missed you."
His eyes tighten. "You too, baby."
The fog is more insistent, like the one in my dreams, and my eyelids drift closed. "Sleepy."
"Then rest, my love. I'll stay with you."
~oOo~
When my eyes open again, it's brighter. Strands of pinkish light peek through the light gray curtain. The pain is gone.
But so is Christian. Did I conjure him in a moment of weakness? Ugh, probably. The despair that comes with the realization sets into the pit of my stomach like ice.
"Oh, you're awake," a voice says.
"Dad?" I croak.
"I'm here, honey." He strides over from the doorway and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Feeling better this morning?"
I nod slightly, but it makes my head spin. Verbal communication only, looks like. "Is it Saturday?"
"It is. Are you up to having a visitor?"
I paste on a small smile. "Sure."
He returns to the door for a moment and waves. Carter enters carrying a very worried-looking Teddy, and my heart alights. I reach for him.
"Careful, Theodore," Carter reminds him, placing him in my arms. His warm body snuggles right in, covering my torso like a leggy little frog.
"Mommy sick again?" he whimpers, incredulously.
"Mommy's better now," I murmur to him. "And very glad to see you." His head burrows into my neck, giving me easy access to smell his hair, his delicious baby scent. "I hope you've been a good boy for Miss Ina." He nods into my shoulder. I mouth a "thank you" to Carter, and she nods and slips quietly from the room.
"Christian thought you'd like to see him this morning, asked me to be here when you woke up. You must be hungry."
"Christian was here?" My voice rises in pitch. Teddy holds on tighter.
"You don't remember? He said you guys talked for a while last night."
I take in a cleansing breath, the ice in my stomach melting rapidly. It was real after all! He was real. "I remember. Last night was a little fuzzy. I wasn't sure if I dreamed him."
Ray nods, his expression softening. "Glad to see you awake, Annie."
"Glad to see you too, Dad. And yes, I'm starving."
~ CHRISTIAN ~
"Mr. Grey, Bas Matthews. Have a minute?"
Here we go. My fingers squeeze the phone a little tighter. "Of course, Judge Matthews. What can I do for you?"
"I understand Mrs. Grey was discharged yesterday. How is she recovering?"
"My father and sister-in-law insist that she's doing much better. I
appreciate your discretion and consideration given the circumstances."
"I'm relieved to hear that. Incidentally, per our discussion the other day I've decided against a formal hearing in favor of individual interviews. When would you be available this week?"
Good news at last. "I can clear my schedule. I'd prefer sooner, however, my wife may not be up to such things just yet. Have you spoken with my father?"
"Yes, he's been in touch. It seems your wife insists on sooner as well. How's Wednesday for you?"
"Perfect."
"It's settled then. I'll expect you on Wednesday at ten o'clock."
"Very good, Judge Matthews. I'll be there."
I hang up and dial my father.
"Christian."
"She's in no condition to be interrogated, Dad! Are you seriously going to let her jump into this whenever she wants?"
"Christian..."
"She's just had surgery on her brain! What if it were Mom? Would you honestly put her through this if it were Mom instead of Ana?"
"Christian!" my father yells. "If you'll kindly shut up for a moment, someone would like to say hello."
I hate it when he does that. He's probably going to put Ana on to calm me down. I can't visit the house, part of the amended injunction, but we're now permitted to speak over the phone, with supervision of course.
"Hello, darling, what has you all worked up today?"
Shit, it's my mother. I plaster on a smile, she can always hear the expression in my voice. "Hello, Mom. How are you feeling today?"
"We'll enough to go home, it seems. Are you going to answer my question?"
"Home? Are you sure you're all right? It's only been a week..."
"It's been nearly two weeks, darling. Linda will look in on me every day on her way to and from the office, and Ana as well. I understand she's staying at the house for the moment."
Shit. What does she know? "Listen, Mom, can you put Dad back on for a moment? I'll talk to you when we're done."
"You and Ana aren't having problems, are you? Your father has been so preoccupied..." her tone tells me she's glaring at him, "... and I can't get a word out of him. Please darling, I only want to help."
"I know that, Mother, and it's not what you think," I pull out my go-to preface. "Put Dad on. I'll tell you soon, I promise."
There's a shuffling and muffled words... I think she's telling him off. Yep, Mama Bear is back.
"Hold on, Dear. I'll be back in a few moments." A heavy door clicks. "All right, I've stepped outside."
A brewing storm of panic wells up in my stomach. This has gotten so far out of hand, and it's making an absolute pussy of me. "I'm not ready for her to know everything, Dad. Especially the... other things. About me."
My father sighs heavily. "I'm not sure if it's in me to tell her those things, Christian, but your mother and I don't make practice of keeping secrets from one another. That'll be something for you to reveal, if you choose, though it pains me. As for the legal situation... it's time she knew. And not only in light of the current living arrangements."
"But she was so upset about Ana's surgery, I don't want to burden her further..."
"Son, stop. She's going to be told. And with Ana around as well, things are going to come out. Why don't you come by the hospital, we'll sit down with your mother and give her a general rundown of the situation. Her doctor isn't in until four to discharge her, so we have some time."
I have the overwhelming urge to kick something. Instead, I grip the corner of my glass desk until it cracks. "God damn it!"
"Christian?"
"Yes, Dad, I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."
I click the phone off and shove it into my pocket, striding out my office and past the PA desk. Taylor follows on my heels. "Andrea, hold my calls, tell Ros to go ahead with the brunch meeting without me, and I need a new desk."
~oOo~
"Oh God, Christian! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Dear, Christian and I discussed it, and we both felt it was better to wait until your health had improved," my father explains to her. "We didn't keep it from you for any other reason. It all happened so suddenly after your scare, there wasn't time to properly and delicately fill you in."
"Screw delicately!" My mother cries, turning on me. "Do you mean to tell me that the reason you and Ana visited separately... but what about Ana's surgery last week? You were able to see her then, weren't you?"
"Yes, but only under the supervision of an officer of the court," I tell her. "We'll likely have this resolved on Wednesday."
"And I'll make sure the Judge sees reason," Dad placates her. "Christian has done nothing wrong. The person responsible has already admitted that the allegations are false. It's just a matter of clearing up some circumstantial evidence. If there's no proof, there's no case. Simple as that."
"I can't believe someone would say that you... you... Oh, I can't think it!" She buries her face in her hands. I lean in and take her softly into my arms.
"My sweet, gentle boy," she murmurs. "Whoever could have said such things?"
Her assumption tears into my gut, and the question rips the tethers of my heart until I fear I'll bleed out. Oh, what she'll think of me. She'll never stop asking until she knows everything.
Everything.
She saved me, time and again. I owe her my life. I can't lie to her forever.
She raises her eyes. "You know who it is, don't you? Don't you?"
I clench my jaw.
"It's that horrible woman, isn't it?" She waits. I swallow. "It is, isn't it? Why is she stirring the pot now? Does she have something on you?"
"Mom, I..."
"Christian Trevelyan Grey, you tell me the truth this minute!"
And in those ten words, I'm reduced to half my stature and a third my age.
Oh, there's so much more to this story. Mom, Dad, please don't hate me.
~oOo~
My father has insisted on accompanying me to the interview. Ana's was this morning. He won't say a word about it.
The truths of the last several days lie like splintered glass, awaiting the tenderest flesh of my feet to pierce. Mother isn't speaking to me. She only knows some... and if she isn't speaking to me now, she'll never want to see me again when the last shard falls.
I can't even see myself in the mirror. My haunted past infects those I love most.
Flynn told me yesterday to focus only on the present. Fucking Flynn. He's here today as well, claps me on the shoulder rather roughly... or it could be that I feel so incredibly weak.
"Mr. Grey, Judge Matthews will see you now."
My pulse takes off like a rabbit. I've left the panic scale, bounding away from the fight-or-flight level, leaving what familiar realms of unpleasantness regularly grace me with their presence.
"You're the master of your universe," Flynn murmurs. Our eyes meet for one, two, three seconds, and I straighten, square, and carry forward.
~oOo~
"Now what?"
"Now we wait for the judge's official ruling." Dad's face is worn, tired. "Son, go home. There's nothing more you can do for the moment."
We robotically shake hands. He stares at me for a moment. I don't think he knows quite what to make of me. I don't know what to make of me, either, but I'm far too exhausted to fret over whether he still loves his youngest son. Too numb. Too thrown from the revelations of the past two hours. Dad turns and heads for the door… the plate glass flashes my reflection over his back, and then he's gone. Probably back to the office for another few hours. That sounds like him. Bury yourself in work to keep the demons at bay. This is where I get it from.
Perhaps, that's what I should do as well. Bury myself in work. The time won't pass any less unhurriedly, but I may as well be productive.
"Sir." I vaguely acknowledge Taylor's standard greeting with a dip of my head.
"Grey House."
I can't stop my thoughts from drifting. The tangents that take me for a ride, some entertaining, some shocking, others seemingly irrelevant but leading to other forks and paths and things I would otherwise not consider. One in particular takes me back to the beginning, and I wonder what things would be like for us, had I been the one to lose my memory. Would I have been as understanding, as willing and receptive as Ana has been? Or would I have been the same cruel bastard that I was before we met? Would I have fallen in love with her again, or would I have resisted, turning my back on the other half of my soul?
Would I fear her touch? Desire her, just the same?
"Sir, Ms. Bailey would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience, and Mr. Flynn is waiting in your office." Andrea blinks at me expectantly.
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. Flynn… his standing invitation, per your instructions… would you like me to tell Ms. Bailey you're unavailable?"
Thank God for Andrea… she's never irritated me sufficiently to fire her, and usually assumes correctly what I'd prefer. And she's always here. Always. Always fucking here. "Yes. Do that. And then take the rest of the week off."
"Sir?"
"Vacation, Andrea, it's called vacation. I don't want to see you again until the week after next. Go!"
She scurries away. There's a tiny part of me that relishes the ability to strike fear into the hearts of my employees, and it pings gleefully as the scare-counter clicks over a digit. Then the numbness sets in again. My fingers grasp the cold steel of my office door handle, and I pull it open. Let's get this over with.
"Who called you, John?"
He turns from the panoramic window. "How did it go?"
Oh, the deflection. I'm far too tired for this shit. "It went. Who called you?" I insist.
"Doesn't matter." He waves a hand toward the long sofa.
I gesture for him to sit first. It's my office, after all. I sink onto the cushion after him, the weight of the situation pinning me, and though my seat is strategically higher than Flynn's, I could be on the floor. Exhaustion sucks the pretense out of me.
He waits.
"I'm fucking tired," I say.
He nods.
I swallow. "I want this to be fucking over."
He nods again. "It is, almost. Your father seems to think it'll go in your favor."
So, it's Dad who called him. It figures. Flynn blinks at me. I'm too tired to call him on it. Too tired to play my own game, not that it's ever worked on him. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
"Have you slept?"
I sigh. "No."
"Do you want to sleep?"
"No."
I'm not sure how long I rest my face in my hands, or remember how I even got into that position. When I look up again, he's still watching me, passively. "I'm fine, Flynn. You can go."
He shakes his head, brow furrowing slightly.
"Why are you here." It's almost a whisper, and nothing of a question.
"I'm just… here."
Yeah. He's 'here for me.' How sweet. Too bad I'm too exhausted to care. "You know what I want?" I say, finally, considering the recessed light fixtures around the ceiling. "I want to go back to before the accident. Change things so it wouldn't happen. But then I'd still be in this predicament, so that's no good. So let's go further back. What if I'd cancelled the interview when Ana and I met? I was about to, that day… though I knew, or I thought I knew, that it would just delay the inevitable and supremely irritating clash with one now-sister-in-law. One way or another, current predicament stands. Further back… no, keep the subs, nothing to do with them… ditch Elena, she's guilty, but not of this… ah, yes. Lily Woods. Lily. Fucking. Woods. If I'd not given in. Just. That. One. Time."
My head reels. The numbness has given way to a replay of the stabbing revelation, that little, elusive tidbit that's the cause of all this. It's my fault, after all. I'd harbored so much anger toward her, so much hatred. But in the end, it was All. My. Fault.
I hate those damned lights. If I look at Flynn, I'll hate him too. Flynn already knows I occasionally hate him on some level; the lights don't fucking care either way. I think I'll keep my focus on them.
"Christian," he calls me back from wherever the tangents have taken me.
"What."
"I'm a little lost."
"Yeah? So am I." And I hate myself for it. I haven't hated myself this much since… since…
"Get up and walk," he instructs.
"What?" My eyes meet his.
He waves his hand at me. "Walk. Pace. Just move."
"Fuck you and your fucking ridiculous coping strategy!" I launch myself off the couch, driving through the fatigue and powering over to the opposite wall, running my fingers through my hair. I turn and march toward my desk. "Why the fuck didn't she try harder to tell me? Why didn't I listen?" I swipe some thick, leather binder from a shelf and lob it in no particular direction. It skids to a stop, open and upended, pages bent. I don't give a shit. "She's going to jail because I didn't listen!"
"Christian, Miss Woods may serve time because she lied. The authorities don't take that kind of thing lightly."
"Yeah? Well I don't take what she did lightly either!" God, I can't believe what she did to me… what she did to herself… and…
"I'm getting the feeling we're thinking about two different wrongdoings," he says calmly. Calmly, because he's trying to keep me calm. Keep me from destroying things. Then why the fuck did he tell me to get up and walk? And why the fuck did I listen?
"Christian?" he prods gently.
I feel like I'm on fire. The anger… it's hot. White hot. God, it hurts. It hurts…
"Christian…"
John stands before me, hands behind his back. It's a very non-threatening stance, one I recognize from hundreds of hours over the last several years. He wants to help. I know he does. I could wrap my fingers around his neck if I wanted to, and he'd not have time to react. But I don't want to hurt him, not really.
I want to hate myself.
I sink to the floor.
"She killed it."
"What?"
I shake my head. The numbness has returned. "I don't understand why it bothers me so much. It was so long ago…" I swallow. "At the time, would I have been this upset about it? I don't know. Would it affect me like this? I don't know. Would I have made a different choice if I'd known? I don't know. I'd like to think I would. But I'm afraid that I wouldn't. I'm afraid I'd have reacted as I'd expect of myself at that age, in the place I was." I inhale slowly, and blow the air through my lips. My head spins a bit.
"You… got her pregnant," he assumes.
I nod. My heart squeezes.
"And she terminated."
I nod again.
"Then you have every reason to feel exactly how you feel."
"I feel… horrible."
"I know." I don't know when he joined me on the floor, but there he sits, John Flynn, cross-legged before me, when I return from my daze.
"I feel responsible."
"I imagine you do."
"I'm so fucking angry."
"At who?"
"At her. At myself. At you. At my parents. At Elena Fucking Lincoln. She beat the shit out of me when she found out about my little indiscretion, did I ever tell you that?" You wanted full disclosure, Flynn? You've got it.
"You lost me again. Time frame it for me."
I blow out another breath. It's another one of his distraction exercises, forming a timeline in order to remove myself emotionally from the event. Whatever works, it's actually dulling the pain somewhat. For now.
"I was just out of high school. It was about a week before my eighteenth birthday… I remember because Elena came back from a two week holiday on my birthday, and that's when she… well… Happy Birthday, Christian." I shift uncomfortably. Lily and Mia were always friends. I'm not sure why; Mia's a few years younger. Lily was always over at our house… oh, God…" my heart sputters as it dawns on me.
"What is it?"
"She wasn't there for Mia. She was there for me."
Flynn's brow furrows.
"It makes perfect sense. Why the fuck would a girl four years older want to hang out with Mia? I mean, I love my sister to death, but she's the most annoying person in Washington."
Flynn snorts, covering his mouth. Go ahead and laugh, you fucker.
"What? You've met my sister enough times, you know what she's like. I don't know why anyone Lily's age would have wanted to hang around her. The thing was… and I can't believe I didn't pay attention… Lily spent every opportunity bothering me. Ending up in the same room with me. Sitting next to me when Mom and Dad had her over for dinner. They thought she was grooming Mia for society or some shit… God! She tried to sit at the piano with me once, and I just about lost it."
"Okay, so we've established something of a motive. You believe she was infatuated with you?"
I raise an eyebrow. "May I label her obsessed? I think it's more fitting," I say dripping sarcasm.
"Whatever floats your boat." Fucking Flynn-ism.
"As I said, Elena had been gone a while, and I was used to having an… outlet… every other day or so. In walks Lily one night while she and Mia had a sleepover, offering herself to me. Practically begging me. And so…" I wave my hand with a flourish.
"She was an outlet for you."
I shake my head. That night comes flooding back. God, I was such a shit. I held her hands down. I didn't kiss her, rather, I kept my eyes closed for most of it. I didn't see her face when I… I shudder at the memory. "I didn't know it was her first time until after… and I saw the blood."
"I see."
I lean back against the side of my desk. "I told Elena immediately that I'd screwed up; thought it would be better if she heard it from me than if she found out I'd hidden it from her. And she made me pay dearly for it. I swore I'd never again be someone's first. It's why I was so shocked and upset when Ana told me she'd never…" my eyes widen as the epiphany blooms. "It was because of that night, because of… her… that I took Ana's experience so seriously. I could have screwed that up so badly."
"So in a way, Lily helped to prepare you for a future with Ana," Flynn rationalizes.
"Don't go all cause and effect on me," I warn.
"Fair enough. Then what happened?"
"After Elena beat the shit out of me?"
"You seem pretty focused on that particular event; I'll put a flag on it and we'll delve into it another time."
Shit. He means it, too. His recognition of my return to that point is a trick he uses to keep me from anchoring myself to particularly bad memories, but it also gives him tidbits to talk about. I pay him well enough, might as well throw him a bone now and then.
"In the meantime, move forward to your next encounter with Miss Woods."
This is the part that hurts. The part where my chest begins to ache. My pulse pounds. "She tried to tell me. She sent me at least a dozen letters over the next month. I threw them away, as I did with all the ones before. Well, all but that one… but we've been over that." I swallow. "She even came by the house a few times. I was good at disappearing. I thought it was an attempt at a repeat performance. I avoided her at all cost." I sigh as my mind travels. "So I went off to Boston. Came back at Christmas, saw her once… she was so bitter. I thought nothing of it. Never did. Until now." I fist my hair in my hands. "I didn't know. I didn't fucking know. I should have known. I should have listened!"
Flynn is quiet for a while. "Did anyone else know? Mia, perhaps?"
I shake my head.
"Her parents must have known. They would have had to give consent for the... procedure. Do you think she would have told them about your involvement?"
A laugh bubbles forth from my lips. "Oh, if they knew, they knew better than to breathe about it. Lily was the perfect debutante. The elite of the society girls. She was the ringleader, and they knew it. Their shining star would fall into obscurity and ridicule in an instant if anyone were to find out." And an innocent life never came to be. Another child of mine who never knew life. My heart shatters.
"Do you think anyone else knew?"
"Why does it matter who knew?" I snap.
Flynn holds his hands up in surrender. "I just know where your mind usually goes. Saving face is your usual modus operandi. I suppose what I ought to ask is, who should know, now?"
Ana. Anastasia should know. My mother... though Dad's probably telling her as we speak, or rather, as I cringe here on the floor of my executive suite. Oh, if my contemporaries could see me now, a fucking blubbering mess, curled into myself on the floor, spilling my guts to the only man who will listen without flinching much. I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks. Oh, but I do. Stop lying to yourself, Grey. Your livelihood would go swirling down the toilet if anyone knew just how weak you really are.
"My mother isn't speaking to me," I blurt.
"I'm aware."
"You spoke to her."
"Yes."
I snort. "She talks to you, but not to her son."
"She asked me to be here for you today."
This grabs my attention. "She did?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Flynn re-crosses his legs the other way. "Just that she felt you might need someone to help you sort things out. She knew your father wouldn't be up to the task, no offense intended... Carrick can handle quite a lot..."
"But he could never handle my shit."
"To put it mildly."
"I see."
He sighs. "Back to the point. You say you should have known. But you didn't, and we're here now. Things are the way they are, they've ended this way and only this way. Where do you want to go from here?"
I shake my head. "I don't know."
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I retrieve it with trembling fingers. Dad's name flashes on the screen. Oh God, please. I'm not sure what I'm asking for... just don't let it be bad.
I clear my throat and push the answer button.
"Grey."
"It's over."
I swallow. "Define over."
"The case is closed, Christian. Come get your family and take them home."
Every cell in my body collapses. The high anxiety of the past two weeks rushes out like air from a balloon.
"What about..."
"Her sentence is negotiable, depending on the extent to which we want to press charges. It would also be prudent to open a counter suit against Kane. We can talk about that tomorrow. Just enjoy your family tonight."
A sigh shudders in my chest. "Thank you, Dad."
"You're welcome." He hangs up.
"Good news?"
I nod. "The case has been closed. I can take Ana and Teddy home."
I suspect he wants to be happy for me. Hell, I want to be happy for myself. But as the relief ebbs, the numbness has returned full-force. I don't know what to feel.
"I suspect they'll keep a little while longer. Why don't we chat a bit more?"
Another wave of relief, but this has the bitter aftertaste of regret. "Just a little longer," I agree.
~ ANA ~
"It's done, my dear."
My knees wobble a bit. I grab hold of a kitchen chair for stability. Teddy continues shoving animal crackers into his mouth, oblivious.
"Are you sure?" I dare not hope.
"Pending the charges against Miss Woods and our potential countersuit, yes. The injunction has been lifted. You and Teddy may return home whenever you choose."
I ignore my legs' threat to give way and rush at Carrick, my father-in-law and our hero in all this, wrapping my arms around his waist. This affectionate side of me is rather new, but I've welcomed it.
Carrick returns my embrace with gentleness, cupping the back of my neck. It hurts just a little, when his fingers brush my hair over the place where they inserted the probe. I don't complain. "Thank you," I murmur.
"You're welcome, my dear. I'll call Christian and give him the news. Would you run along and let Grace know?"
"Yes, of course."
Grace and I have done some considerable bonding over the last couple days. I wish her surgery had been as uncomplicated as mine, though the ailments were similar. I tap lightly on the library door, the threshold to her refuge.
"Grace?" I call softly.
"Come in, Ana," Grace smiles, setting down her book. "Sit with me a while. Is my grandson through with his snack?"
"Almost; Gretchen is cleaning him up now."
"What is it, darling?" Goodness, if only my own mother could read me this well. Grace is the most perceptive person I've ever met. It's likely what makes her such an excellent physician. I'd like to think it's also something she'd passed through raising Christian; he's so damned observant. I perch next to her on the sofa.
"Carrick just got off the phone... he says it's all over. We can go home."
"Oh Ana, that's wonderful news!" Grace wraps me in her arms. She's surprisingly strong, but ever so soft. "Is Christian on his way?"
"I think so. Carrick was about to call him. He asked me to come tell you."
Grace smirks knowingly." I suspect the men in my life are a little afraid of me at the moment."
I'm puzzled. Christian is in the dog house, quite naturally, by the looks of things. But Carrick? "Why would you say that?"
Grace laughs. "It's the complexity of a gentle warrior. Yes, I'm upset with Carrick and Christian both, but more specifically, I'm hurt that they believed I wasn't able to handle certain things about Christian's life, the things you and I cleared up the other day," she reminds me. "It affects my family deeply when I'm upset with them. I'm well aware of this, and it's so fulfilling to know that I mean so much to each of them, to each of you," she squeezes my hands. "But Carrick and Christian, especially... When they fall out of line, often the way to keep them from repeating a mistake is to stay mad just a little longer."
I'm floored by this. Sweet, selfless Grace plays mind games?
She smirks. "You'll see what I mean when Teddy does something that throws you for a loop. It'll happen. You'll forgive him, of course. You won't be able to help it. And you'll love him, no matter what. But you'll hold the strings that straighten him on his path. Once in a while, you have to tug that string just a little longer, to remind him what he ought to do, even if you aren't really mad anymore."
I sit on that for a moment. "That strangely makes sense," I admit. I'd never thought about it before. Teddy doesn't really need discipline yet. It sounds a little unorthodox, but I tuck it away for future perusal. This whole mommy thing is still fresh.
"It's actually a little something I picked up from one of Christian's first therapists," Grace continues. "She was a little too subtle for Christian, and female therapists just didn't jive well with him... it didn't work out between them, but the advice sure has helped. With Elliot as well... though don't tell Kate I said so."
I smile at this. "I guess I should go pack..."
"Nonsense, darling, Gretchen can do that, when you're ready. I'm not ready to let go of my first daughter in law yet." She hugs me again.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Ana."
I work the courage around my head. "Do you think Christian and I will make it if I never remember?" My voice chokes on the last word, surprising me. It wasn't clear just how worried I've been about the subject until I said it out loud.
"Oh, sweetheart... Christian will love you with all his heart until the day he leaves this earth, and with any luck, even after. I've never, ever seen him as dedicated or as passionate as he is when he's with you. He'll never give up on you." Grace pulls me in close, and a rush of emotion blubber to the surface... all the pent up anxiety, worry, frustration and anger pouring from my soul in racking sobs.
"Shh, darling. It's all right now."
"I'm... sorry..." I murmur between heaving breaths. Grace clicks her tongue and shushes me.
I'm not entirely sure how long I cry, but Grace has managed to wedge me in next to her, my head resting on her shoulder. My own mother never really soothed me this way. The feeling is foreign, but so welcome.
I don't realize I've fallen asleep until I feel warm fingers at my face.
"Mmm..."
"Wake up, beautiful."
My eyes crack, and staring down at me is the man I love. He looks as tired and worn as I feel. Still, my heart blooms at the sight of him.
"Hi."
"Hi, baby. Ready to go home now?"
I nod. Christian shifts to kiss his mother's cheek, and whispers, "Thank you," before helping me up.
Grace just nods. She isn't ready to let go of the string yet. In a few days, perhaps, I think.
Christian carries a napping Teddy to the SUV and straps him into his car seat. We ride in silence. If it weren't for his hand gently holding mine as he drives, I'd wonder if I'd caused him ire somehow.
"Welcome home," Gail pulls me in for a hug. She has tears in her eyes. "Are you hungry?"
I shake my head. Teddy has woken, and he and Christian share a father and son moment on their way to the great room sofa... that sofa. Christian sinks into it with his miniature in his lap and waves for me to join them. Gail offers us a smile and disappears.
As I sink into my husband's side and curl an arm around Teddy's back, Christian pulls me fiercely but gently against him. I can feel him trembling.
Oh, sweetheart, I know. His cheek comes to rest on the top of my head. So many words we should exchange, but not in front of our son. Christian just holds us as though he'll never let go. Teddy clings to Christian without a word, not fussing or fighting. He knows something is amiss. I think he understands that, right now, his Daddy just needs to hold him and Mommy. And we're okay with that.
It's dark outside when I wake again. Long fingers stroke my hair, careful not to brush the back of my neck. Somehow, he just knows. I tighten my arm around... the emptiness is startling.
Teddy is gone.
"It's all right, love. Gail fed him and put him to bed. I didn't have the heart to wake you." Christian's eyes are soft but alert.
I sigh as the adrenaline seeps out. My throat hurts. It does that sometimes when I fall asleep during the day.
"Hungry?" he asks.
I shake my head.
He shrugs. "Me either."
I stretch, registering the stiffness accumulated from my curled position. "So, what do we do now?"
He smirks, his eyes not focused on anything in particular. He shrugs. "So many things, I don't even know where to begin."
I have no idea if the apathetic tone is relieved, a sign of burnout or some level of anger that I haven't yet seen from him, and I'm not sure whether he knows either. "What would you like to do?" I ask tentatively.
He shakes his head. "I haven't a clue."
"Maybe we should talk," I suggest.
He nods, still dazed. "Maybe."
"But you don't really want to," I supply.
"Not really," he admits, his eyes darkening. "But we should clear the air."
He straightens. "It's a beautiful night. Get some blankets and go out onto the deck. I'll dig up a bottle of wine and join you." He helps me to my feet, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple before trudging off toward the kitchen. That's the best word I have to describe his gait... trudging. It's as though he carries the weight of the world on his back, and it's taken its toll on him.
He passes me a glass of something deep red. The first sip miraculously takes the edge off, leading me to believe his choice of vintage may have been intentional. He passes me a square of dark chocolate a well. How appropriate... the sweet to counteract our collective mood.
"Where do we even begin," he muses after a few sips.
"I want to go first," I say. The wine is making me brave.
Christian shifts so he's facing me on the lounge, tucking a wool blanket around our twined legs. "By all means. You have the floor, Mrs. Grey."
CHAPTER 23
~ ANA ~
"They grilled me for over an hour."
"They?"
"Judge Matthews. That shrink lady from the evaluation. Some neutral observer from another district. Don't worry, your dad made him sign an NDA." I see his expression pass from something like panic to relief.
"Go on."
"Carrick and Sawyer had to wait outside. They got to watch everything on the monitor, but the judge didn't want me influenced, something about Stockholm Syndrome, as though they'd already decided that I wasn't in control of my own mind." I take a breath. Christian's face is already the picture of rage. He sees where this is going. Keep going, Steele... uh... Grey.
"They took turns asking me the same questions, over and over, trying to screw me up. Make me slip and say something they could use against you. But there was nothing. As far as I'm concerned, you've never hurt me. Never hurt Teddy. Those pictures came up, the ones from the hospital that day... I told them over and over that I didn't feel threatened, that I didn't believe for a second that you'd hurt me. They asked about the two times I got lost. Suggested that I did it on purpose, like I was trying to escape."
Christian's face is a mottled mix of fury and remorse.
"They wanted to know about our personal life, all the intimate details. Whether you'd ever touched me inappropriately. It was so uncomfortable, so humiliating." I feel the tears gathering. "I felt violated. Tainted. What we do, or don't do, rather... behind closed doors is none of their concern, but they made it their business."
Christian's fists have tightened. I'm glad he set down his glass, else it would be shattered and we'd likely be on our way to the hospital for stitches.
"Then they asked me about the memory loss. That neutral guy went as far as to suggest that I was faking it, and the episodes. I know it was just a tactic in the questioning, but it still hurt. I've never been deceptive, but they don't know that. They don't know me. I doubt they were the least bit interested in what I thought. And when they were done, they thanked me, with these fake smiles. I haven't seen your dad look so angry as when I met him in the hallway after, not even the day he rescued us at the police station. I think Sawyer wanted to punch someone."
Christian is about to blast off.
But I'm not quite done. "I know it was all necessary to convince them, but I don't remember ever being treated so disrespectfully in my life."
"Don't you dare defend their actions." His voice is deadly quiet.
"Hey, it's still my turn," I remind, gently. "Just before I left the room, I let them have it."
Christian turns pale.
"To quote you, it's not what you think. I didn't give them anything to use against you," I tell him. I mean that I got mad, and I told them exactly how I felt about this whole thing. It was off the record, the camera was already off... but I told them that they ought to be ashamed for treating a supposed victim so badly. If they'd really been concerned for my well-being, it was a concept lost on me. I said I have little confidence in their justice system, and that my votes in the next election would reflect this." The corners of my mouth turn up, just a little. "Judge Matthews had the good manners to look a little scared."
I'd have expected Christian to climb into orbit by now, but instead, he bursts into laughter. "You... threatened him... with losing your vote?"
"Don't make fun, what else could I do?"
"No, no baby... You misunderstand," he calms. "I can picture you stomping your little foot, I've seen it, and it's quite empowering," his eyes are bright, with reverence, I think? "That was actually a very powerful threat, coming from you. All you'd have to do is say in casual conversation at a benefit or dinner or somewhere that you'll be supporting another candidate, and he's toast. Finished." He leans in and kisses me, softly, but with a fire that curls my toes. It's brief, and when he pulls away, I'm left wanting. "I'm so damn proud of you." His face turns a little darker, and he takes a long breath. "But I'm... appalled... so fucking angry at the way you say they spoke to you."
"That makes two of us," I say, a touch of bitterness on my lips. "You really think they took my threat seriously?"
"Oh, yes. But the election will be the least of their worries. My father and I will be suing the county and Mr. Kane for a number of things."
"What about she-who-shall-not-be-named? If it weren't for her..."
"I'd like to deal with Miss Woods personally."
I frown. "Meaning what? Carrick mentioned that we should decide whether to press charges, and that it'll resolve how harsh her punishment is. I mean, she did this to us. Sure, Kane is a dickhead, and the police and courts should never have let things go this far, common sense should have prevailed way before this..."
"Damn right," he interrupts.
"But she did this to us. To you and me. I feel personally victimized by her. She and Mia are friends, right? Does Mia know about any of this?"
"Not yet. I'll need to sit down with her as well and explain."
"What about explaining this to me?" I say, hurt. He's avoided talking to me about any of it, the few times we were actually able to talk, he turned the conversation away from the woman's motives. "I deserve to know why she did this, Christian. You know, and you don't want to tell me, I can see that. But I deserve to know."
Christian's lips are a flat line. To say he looks conflicted is an understatement. He looks as though he's halfway along a tightrope, and it's about to be cut. I bring my hand to his cheek.
"Talk to me."
His Adam's apple sinks and rises with a deep swallow, and his expression melts from one of anger to deep sadness. "You're right," he says finally. "You deserve to know everything. But I need your promise first, that you'll stay. I only just discovered some details myself. I haven't had time to fully process them yet. I need to know you won't run when you know everything. I need your help. I'm not even sure how I feel about it all yet."
He wants my reassurance that I won't leave him. I don't know if I could, even if I wanted to, but this sounds bad, whatever it is.
I take a long swig of the wine, draining my glass, and set it aside. Taking his balled fist in my hands, I stare him deep in the eyes. "I promise."
He nods. "I don't know where to start. I should probably come out and say it, but doing that won't give you an accurate idea of where I was mentally back then." He shifts a bit under the blanket, and pulls me in, tucking me under his arm. "I told you my early life was unpleasant, and that reflected in my behavior throughout my teenage years. I had little regard for others." I feel him swallow. "Lily and Mia were friends for as long as I can remember. I've only just come to realize that perhaps the only reason Lily hung around Mia, who is, incidentally, several years her junior, was because she was... infatuated with me."
He pauses, and I wonder if it's because he's working things out in his head, or because he's waiting for my reaction. When I have none, he continues.
"She practically threw herself at me one night when she was at the house for a sleepover with my sister. I'd been... frustrated, to put it lightly, and we, um..."
"You slept with her," I throw in. It's obvious, and it doesn't really affect me at all. I've accepted what he'd told me about how he used to be.
He snorts. "There was no sleeping involved, but you get the idea. Afterward, she wrote me more of her silly letters. I threw those out without reading them. I knew I'd made a mistake in giving in to her, and so I made a point of avoiding her. I didn't want to encourage her to continue bothering me. I went off to college a month later and never really saw her again, except on rare holidays when I went home or at an event here and there."
He's quiet for a minute.
"I take it there's more," I prod.
"In her interrogation, she gave the real reason she'd tried to pursue me. I... it seems, I got her pregnant that night."
I can't stop the gasp that rushes through me.
"She terminated it. Or her parents made her, I don't know the specifics. I imagine it was the latter, she was a deb, after all. They kept it quiet. Her parents and my parents were friends back then, not so much after. Lily apparently thought I knew all along, and that I was being an asshole. I honestly never knew."
I can't move, he's holding onto me so hard. I don't think I'd be able to move even if I could; the revelation has me paralyzed.
"I don't mean to say that her actions were warranted, they absolutely were not, especially where you're concerned. She never should have lied about you. But I'm having a hard time with the idea that she'll serve hard time for the ultimate reason that I hurt her all those years ago."
So that's what this is about. I knew full well about his previous tendencies, but this throws my head to spinning. He could have had another child, another life entirely. And we might never have met. I really need my memory right now. I don't know how to cope with this, what to say, how to react.
"Don't hate me, Ana, I beg you."
I shake my head, as much as I can for how tight his grip is. "Don't hate yourself," I say. He only holds me tighter. "Christian, I can't breathe."
His hold loosens, and he draws his arms back ever so slightly. He's peering down at me. His eyes are red and wary.
"I don't hate you," I tell him when he says nothing. "I'm shocked at how irresponsible that was, granted you were young, but surely you should have known to take precautions."
His breaths are harsh, as though he's receiving a thorough lashing. "You really didn't know?" I ask.
He shakes his head. His eyes turn upward, and I see tears glisten. He's trying so hard to hold back. I hate this. Not him, surely not... but I hate this whole thing. From everything I've learned about this deeply troubled, private, industrious, and downright brilliant man, such a thing is out of character for him. Perhaps this is why he's become such a perfectionist; if he's done something so irresponsible as a young man, there must have been a number of other things he's used as a basis for improvement in his life, and especially with his current high profile status. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of gaps, the chasm where all my answers lie. And I'm exhausted again.
"I think I want to get some sleep now," I say.
Christian's look in any other situation might be comical; I could have grown another eyeball and wouldn't otherwise know but for his expression. I hold up my hand to stop whatever protest or demand for reassurance he's about to make. I know that I love him. On that, there can be no debate. But my head is full to bursting, and despite the two unscheduled naps, I'm exhausted. "I'll see you in the morning."
His arms tentatively release me, and I'm left feeling both freed and deprived. He stands as I do, setting the blanket aside. I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, softly, but briefly. He brushes my cheek with his fingers. I think he gets the message that I'd rather sleep alone, because he doesn't follow me.
I peek into Teddy's room. The sweet boy that he is, he's sleeping soundly, lightly snoring, his limbs flung out from under the twisted sheet at odd angles, his cheek mashed into the pillow and forcing his lips into a sleepy pucker. Poor little guy is so tired. Oh, to be that young, with no worry of aching joins or puffy eyes come morning.
Everything in the master suite is just as I left it two weeks ago, including all the things that followed me to Bellevue. I don't know how Gail does it; making our lives so seamless. She's wonderful. I suppose that she and Jason have the dogs tonight; I imagine they didn't want to overwhelm us upon our arrival. They likely took better care of Christian lately than he's taken of himself. I'll need to think of some way to thank them.
I brush my teeth, the Sonicare buzzing happily around my mouth, when I hear a soft tap at the door. Christian peeks his head in.
"I'm sorry, I just came for a change of clothes... May I?"
I nod, closing my lips around the toothbrush to prevent the inevitable spray of foam, and watch him as he crosses to the dresser and gathers what look like pajama bottoms and a set of workout clothes. I'm marginally curious which he'll don first, but glad that he'll have options to keep him busy awhile, and take the gesture that he'll respect my need for space at least the rest of the night.
"I'll be in the blue bedroom if you need me... or perhaps the office or the gym. I'll try not to wake you."
I nod again. The toothbrush has finished its cycle, but I'm holding the bristles and foam captive behind my lips.
"Well, good night," he says, attempting to mask the hurt in his eyes.
Why have we become strangers in the last two weeks? We've let those idiots downtown dictate boundaries for us, and the former restrictions play a role in my current feelings. I realize suddenly that I'd like nothing more than to ask him to stay, but I'm so confused and thrown by all the head junk that I stand there like an idiot with an idle toothbrush in my mouth. His face softens into a small, resigned smile. "I love you, Ana. Sleep well."
And then he's gone.
I stare at the dark ceiling for the next few hours. The minty flavor has gone, however long that takes, that's how long I've lain here, alone, pondering. Just pondering. I come to the conclusion that I'm not upset with Christian at all; I'm just upset in general. Ultimately, I feel violated from the interview. I want to hurt the people who put us through this, and that's a new one for me... I've never felt the urge to hurt anyone before. I don't think I've been so angry in my life. It's not a welcome feeling. I think I'd like to talk with John Flynn tomorrow, perhaps he can help me sort through some of this. Maybe Christian should come along as well. I have the sudden urge to find him, to make sure he's all right, that he's still nearby.
The lights are low in the hallway, and the open doors hold darkness. He's not in the gym downstairs or his office, though the Grey Enterprises screensaver glows and glides from the computer monitor. The blue bedroom is empty as well. Did he go somewhere? I'm tempted to panic, but the rational side of my brain, or what's left of it, decides that perhaps he just needed to get out. Maybe he went for a run.
I peek in on Teddy on my way back to the master suite.
His night light swirls peacefully, throwing dim stars and comets over the walls... and over the two occupants of the sailboat bed. Christian is curled behind our little boy, holding him to his bare chest. My throat tightens. They breathe in turns, identical faces serene, untroubled. I take in the sight for another minute and then back out of the room, clicking the door softly when I hear my name, muffled through the door.
"Anastasia?"
I step back, hoping my ears have tricked me and that if he did wake, he'll think he'd imagined me and settle back down. I'm gratefully wrong. The door opens, and he steps into the hallway, looking over his shoulder as he pulls the door closed behind him.
"Teddy?" I ask.
"He's fine. Didn't budge. Are you okay?"
I nod. "Couldn't sleep."
"What's wrong, baby?" he asks, his sleepy eyes filled with concern.
I shrug. "Missed you, I guess."
"You guess?"
I scowl tiredly at the light teasing. Christian steps forward and folds me gently into his arms. He's warm and comfortable. "What can I do?" he asks.
I shake my head against his chest. He fingers my hair softly, careful again with the back of my neck. It's just a little Band-Aid there now.
"You have a doctor's appointment in the morning, correct?" he asks. He shocks me when we think the same thing at the same time. He's just so… attuned.
I nod. "Ten thirty, a head CT. I've felt a lot more clear-headed, actually."
"That's wonderful, sweetheart, I'm so glad." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and rocks me side to side, squeezing me a little. "Are you hungry at all?"
"Not really."
He sighs. "Promise me you'll have a decent breakfast in the morning."
I nod against him. "I love you," I murmur, my palms coming around to rest over his spine.
He gasps slightly. "I love you too, Ana. So very much. I'm so sorry for this entire mess, for giving you reason to question your faith in me. I'm a changed man for having you in my life. I swear, if I'd known, if I'd even suspected, I'd have made things right long ago. I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
It both melts and tears at my heart when he says things like this, when he pours his soul out to me. That such a man exists, that he's mine, and so filled with love and concern, it blows me away. I tilt my head back and look up at him. "There's nothing to forgive, Christian. You haven't wronged me. I know we should have talked through more last night. I'm just numb and overwhelmed, and that isn't your fault at all. Give me some time to process, okay?"
He nods, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I'm aware that the hallway outside our son's bedroom at three in the morning isn't a proper place to delve, but I have to get this out," he says, his voice low and serious. "I have to impart on you... and then I'll leave it be until tomorrow," he sighs. "I want to try to make things right with Lily. It may be too little too late, but I am going to apologize to her. I spoke with John. He took point in her evaluation, and believes she could benefit from regular counseling. I'm not softening what she did. At the same time, I fail to see how condemning her to incarceration will make any of this right, though in the short term, it would satisfy a need for reciprocity. I want to know your feelings, of course, always... but I'd like to ask the Judge that her sentence be reduced to community service, with mandatory counseling for the foreseeable. It's the least I feel I should do. What do you think?"
For as angry as he's been these past weeks, or so I've ascertained from everyone working between us, these are the motives of a saint. Or perhaps, if not a saint, a person with a moral compass that steadfastly points true north. He's such a walking contradiction. It sets my mind to spinning again, and I realize how tired I am.
"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I want to go back to bed."
"Of course," he kisses my hair again. "I'll walk you."
"Will you lie down with me?" I ask, timidly. My belly twitches, but not in such a way that would stir me to give myself over to him, sexy though he is at any hour.
"Few things would make me happier, baby."
I nod, a yawn interrupting me, and before I know what's happening, Christian sweeps me into his arms. I stifle a surprised squeal. "I can walk," I slur.
"I enjoy taking care of what's mine, Ana. Please let me," he insists, carrying me to our bedroom. He settles me carefully onto my side of the bed, pulling the covers up, and then slips into his side. I turn toward him, our knees touching. He brushes his fingers over my cheek, our eyes connecting. "Sleep, baby."
My eyelids droop. He doesn't need to tell me twice.
~oOo~
"Everything looks normal, Mrs. Grey. You're healing just fine, no sign of abnormalities."
"You said that a dozen times before, and she had to have a seizure for you to find something. How are you sure this time?" Christian masks his fear with intimidation.
"That was tremendously unfortunate," Dr. Sluder admits. "As I explained, the scar tissue around the original skull fracture masked what slight vascular damage there was, even though I've been monitoring that area closely since July. The minimally-invasive nature of the procedure had the added benefit of reducing a bit of the scar tissue that would hide any future problems. I suspect we won't run into any more trouble, but in the slight chance we do, I'll be able to see it. Have you had any further episodes?"
"None yet," I say. "My head seems clearer, though. Well, compared to before last week. Everything seems sharper. But I'm still missing most of the three years. Is there still a chance I'll remember?"
"There's always a chance. Perhaps it'll take time, or something familiar may trigger memories as your episodes have led you to experience. It's early to speculate, but you may not have them anymore. We'll keep checking you regularly. I'll want to see you again in two weeks, and we'll go from there."
"Can she resume normal activity?" Christian's hand grips mine. It isn't too tight, but he's still not completely reassured.
"I cannot clear you to drive, Mrs. Grey, but barring extreme sports, I don't see anything wrong with business as usual. Just ease into things."
Christian looks like he wants to say something else, but holds back. Probably for my benefit. He resigns to a moody quiet.
I watch him fumble with his seatbelt. He inserts the key and presses the ignition button, and the engine and displays come to life. It isn't until he powers onto the I-5 onramp that he notices me observing him.
"What?"
"Is something wrong?"
He sighs, reaching over the console to squeeze my hand. "It's nothing, baby. Please don't worry."
"It is something, Christian. I wish you'd talk to me."
He's quiet a moment, pensive. "I don't like that neurologist. If she weren't my mother's first choice, I'd insist we find someone else for you. She's left you with a clot in your head for months. Anything could have happened."
Oh, boy. We had this same conversation this morning at breakfast, and on the ride to my appointment with his mother on speakerphone. No, they aren't talking yet, so the conversation was really between Grace and I. Christian's been a nervous wreck all day so far, and it's hardly lunchtime.
"I wish I knew what to say, so that you wouldn't have to worry," I tell him.
He's quiet again, and then I see the corner of his mouth twitch up, and his brow relax a bit. "I know. I'm sorry for beating a dead horse. I'll worry about you every day for the rest of my life, and there isn't anything you can do to prevent that."
It's just his nature. I wish I had a better idea why.
"Baby, you're overthinking," he interrupts my thoughts. "I want to show you something."
~oOo~
I'd awoke that morning, wrapped in Christian Grey. He was warm and heavy, very heavy, a little too heavy... and close enough that if we were any closer, our skin would have no other choice but to meld together. His breath in my face was sweet, and stunningly familiar, to the point that I feared the beginnings of an episode that never came. And then there was the stick of dynamite pressed firmly into my belly.
He excused himself with some haste, but not before kissing me softly, sweetly... at least, that's how it began... before my pulse took off and I about tackled him. I'm glad he didn't let things continue, mumbling something about "later" and "special," and knowing this man as I think I do, whatever he has planned could prove unforgettable, but for now, we're still pretty raw from all the drama.
And there's still plenty more to sort out. He pulls the car to a stop at a marina, the cool, salty air blowing my face through the half-open tinted window. Christian walks around to my side, holds the door and takes my hand, ever the gentleman. His mood has lightened significantly in the last sixty seconds.
"Mama! Daddy!" Teddy calls, and Sawyer releases him to run the last few yards, and we scoop him up between us.
Christian presents his boat, his boat… a monstrosity of a bi-hull catamaran with stowed but unmistakable red and white sails. Nearly-invisible plexiglass rims every inch of the railing, I notice, and when Christian sets Teddy down and Teddy scurries off to peer down at the water, I don't worry as much as I might have otherwise.
"I had them installed once Teddy started crawling. He went from tortoise to hare in a matter of hours," he explains, steering us out of the bay and onto open water, with Teddy in his lap at the helm. I would like to remember things like that.
Teddy "helps" to steer and Christian points out landmarks and other points of interest to him. They press buttons to deploy and adjust the enormous, towering sails, and we're off and flying; both of my men loving every minute. Oh, boys and their toys.
I find myself enjoying the surprise trip and stretch out on a lounge chair in one of the only modest bathing suits I could find in the dresser this morning. All he said was, "pack a swimsuit." It's a blue and white striped number with silver accents at the hips and between the bra cups. How appropriately nautical. There was a maternity suit in the drawer also, and unfortunately, Christian walked into the bedroom while I had it gripped in my fingers, lost in thought. And then we spent a half hour on the floor in front of the dresser, crying in each other's arms again.
The momentary sadness has ebbed, but I'm sure it'll return now and again throughout our lives.
Christian produces a picnic basket and we share an incredible family lunch on deck, while The Grace rocks idly, anchored just offshore somewhere. I'm so touched that he'd name it after his mother. They'll make up soon, I hope… won't they?
"I have Ms. Bailey on the line for you, Sir," Taylor appears from down below, phone in hand.
Christian rolls his eyes, his expression darkening just a touch. "Do you mind?" he asks.
"Of course not," I wave him away.
He returns twenty or so minutes later, just as I'm about to go look for him. He's definitely stressed again, and obviously trying to hide it. Teddy has conked out on a lounge chair in the shade.
"What's up?" I ask.
"Nothing you need to worry about, baby."
I roll my eyes. Christian's expression darkens, and conflict rings in his eyes. "I don't like it when you do that," he says, casually.
"Do what?"
He stares at me for a moment, and then shakes his head. "Never mind."
"No, seriously, what?" I really want to know.
His breaths intensify. "Can't we just have a nice day? No questions? No interruptions?"
"Christian?" I step closer to him. "What's going on?" I ask softly. He seems to respond better with gentleness. If he sees through the tactic, I can't tell.
He grasps my hand when I reach for him, placing my palm flat against his chest. This touch must be deeply meaningful to him, something related to the cure from his tactile phobia. His breathing softens slightly.
"I don't want to burden you," he tells me. It doesn't feel like a preface to an explanation, rather, it feels like the explanation.
"I'm more burdened by not knowing," I say. "I can't help you if I don't know what to do."
He shakes his head. "There isn't anything for you to do, baby. I appreciate that you'd want to do something, but honestly, there's nothing."
"Then just let me be here for you," I prod. "I may not actually be able to do anything, but whatever it is, you shouldn't be alone in it. I understand your need to be the protector and provider, and I can't begin to tell you how reassuring that feels. But just the same, you and I are a team. I want to pull my weight. Please let me."
He sighs, closing his eyes briefly. "You're right. God, I love and I hate and I love when you're right." The sentiment seems familiar. Hmm...
"Last night, you reminded me more than once that you're overwhelmed by all this drama, but I unloaded on you anyway. I'm dealing with several feelings I don't often have and usually work very hard to avoid. That's one." He runs his free hand through his hair. "And two, Ros and I need to be in New York for a meeting tomorrow morning."
My heart leaps at the first revelation and sinks at the second. I cling to the spirit of the first. "I'm glad you told me," I reassure him. "I'm not upset; I hope that's not why it was so hard for you to talk to me."
He shrugs. "A little, I suppose. I'd rather not leave you on your own. We've spent enough time apart as it is."
"Just for instance, if things were what you'd think of as normal, would you be so reluctant to go to this meeting?"
He looks conflicted, as though this hadn't occurred to him. "I'm always reluctant to leave you, Ana. I want your face to be the first and last thing I see every day."
My whole being brightens. "And this is why we have Skype."
He shakes his head, but his lips twitch. "Not the same."
I flex my fingers at his chest. "I know. But you should go. I'll be here when you get home."
"With any luck, I'll be home for dinner tomorrow night."
"And if it runs long?"
"No later than Saturday."
I smile bravely. "Then I'll hope for tomorrow and plan for Saturday."
Christian pulls me in for a hug, resting his chin on my head. "How do you always see the silver lining in everything?"
I shrug. "Maybe you bring it out in me."
He chuckles. "Maybe."
I hear and feel the engine hum to life. I assume he's already given the order to take us back; if he has a business trip to attend, surely he needs to get packed and out the door.
"So what's this meeting about?"
"I just need to appease some suits, and light fires under a few others. It's a relatively small merger that's been in the works for some time, but the products they hold have far-reaching potential in a number of projects. I actually explained it in detail to you while you were sleeping."
I laugh. "Did it occur to you that it might have been better to wait until I was awake?"
He looks hurt. "I was trying to wake you, baby. It was when you were in the hospital... I'm sorry, I should have been specific."
My heart both bursts and breaks for him. "You talked to me?"
He nods. "Of course. I'll never know if it helped, but it was better than doing nothing."
"Christian... that's so incredibly sweet, I don't know what to say."
"You could promise never to wind up in a hospital ever again," he suggests.
"Scouts honor," I give a two-fingered salute. "Although there are a couple of good reasons to be there."
"Such as?" he demands, incredulous that I should suggest such a thing.
"We'll, you could bring your mom lunch occasionally once she goes back to work and the two of you could finally talk," I suppose. "Or... when we have more children?"
He blinks. Perhaps he didn't hear me, or maybe he's processing. His brain could also be stuck. He blinks again.
"Christian?"
I have no warning. In an instant, his mouth seals over mine, lips moving reverently with my own. His tongue flicks into my mouth, stroking fire over mine, sucking and biting my bottom lip. His breaths are fierce against my cheek, his palms planted firmly over my spine, pressing me to him. My hands are trapped against his chest, and they snake their way up to tug his hair.
The spark in my belly has ignited, flames licking from my core to my extremities. There's a hint of his hardness pressing into me. Christian's groan is barely audible. Oh, I want him.
"Not here," he breathes. "Not now. Soon. I promise." He seals my lips with another kiss.
"I'll hold you to that," I say breathlessly.
"Were you serious?"
"About what?"
He pulls back just slightly, enough to meet my gaze. "The part about children."
Was I? I suppose I was. It just feels natural that we'd have more one day. Teddy deserves a sibling. Or two. Or five…
"Why not?" I shrug.
Christian's lips softly brush mine again. "Mrs. Grey, it would be an honor to have more children with you." He sighs. "You constantly surprise me. I'd never have expected such a thing to be on your mind."
"Well, it wasn't, until you brought up hospitals. Which brings up the other suggestion; you do need to talk to your mother," I remind him.
He sighs. "My mother decides when it's time for us to talk. Believe me, I've already tried."
"Does she know about Lily? The whole story?"
He nods. "Dad told her after we left yesterday. I imagine the revelations of the past week aren't settling well with her. At least I'm out of bombs to drop on them." He squeezes me, hard. "Do you think she'll still love me?"
Oh, Christian. His voice is so desolate. I run my hands up and down his spine. "She's your mom."
~ CHRISTIAN ~
I find myself easily distracted from the projection reports laid out before me, and instead, I take in the transition of the sky from sunset to starry blackness out the window. My fingers reach up to touch the layered glass, and it's cold, as I suspect the exterior of the plane has dropped below freezing. Such is autumn in the northern sky.
I can't get over what Ana said to me this afternoon. More children. She's willing, as ever she was. After everything that's happened, after all she's been through, she wants more children with me. My heart flutters at the thought, of Ana round and ripe with my child… and then sobers a bit when my thoughts turn to Phoebe. I'm not naturally a praying man, but there are some things I'll leave to the heavens. My sweet angel, she'll keep an eye on things. She'll help me keep our family safe, watch over them the times I can't.
Ana's just getting into bed when I Skype her from the Fifth Avenue apartment. Her sleepy, smiling face is comforting, even at this distance. I don't keep her long.
I'm overprepared for tomorrow's meeting as it is, so I call my father.
"Christian," is his standard greeting of late. Always formal, and to my advantage now but to my dismay and detriment as a youngster, he's in his home office late nearly every evening.
"Hi, Dad. Has the Jackson firm been in touch?"
I put a few things in play immediately after the ruling, not the least of which is a countersuit against one Mark Kane. I intend to take the bastard down for what undue suffering he's caused my family, and I couldn't very well do that and appear to be a saintly family man in the last round of proceedings. I now have an intimate understanding of why some revenge is best served cold. I can't say I'll take a great deal of pleasure in it, but at the very least, due process and common sense might be properly observed in the future.
"They have. I suspect we'll have little trouble getting him disbarred. His partners aren't happy with the way this played out. It seems they've given Mr. Kane far too much latitude with little oversight in the past, probably due to his overwhelming success up to this point. As for having his detective credentials revoked, that's a different matter. Unless we can prove that he's broken the law, and neither you nor I were able to gather anything to suggest that he has, the best we can hope is to call his methods into question."
"Whatever we have to do. I appreciate this, Dad." And I mean it, wholeheartedly. My father has graciously undertaken this legal clusterfuck as a favor to me, to keep the thundercloud of weirdness that hangs overhead from raining my secrets all over Seattle and beyond. I am thankful that the trouble wasn't what I'd originally thought, and it made telling Mom and Dad about much of my past unnecessary, but I'm oddly comforted it's out. I'm grateful that I no longer have to hide it from them. I'm relieved that they have the understanding of me that they've always needed, but I hope it doesn't have a lasting effect on their affection for my wife and son. If they want to write me off, I'll... understand. But I hope they won't write Ana off for staying by my side. Only time will tell.
"Dad, listen, um… about all that stuff I had to tell you. Or didn't, rather…" I stumble. "I realize now that I could have come out the other side of this without spilling my guts to you. But…" I swallow. "… thank you, for not resenting me."
There's a short silence before my father speaks. "I can only imagine what courage it took for you to reveal what you did, Christian. Some of it," I hear him sigh "I don't think I'll ever wrap my head around certain details. But it's helped me understand a bit better why you were as you used to be, and as I said the first time… you're still my son. And you'll always be that."
Another silence, followed by some uncomfortable throat-clearing.
"Did you talk to Mom?" I ask.
"I did."
"And?" Does she hate me?
"And... I doubt there's anything else about you that could surprise her at this point."
I fight to keep from audibly blowing out a breath. A poker face is just as valuable over the phone. "There's nothing else of consequence hiding under any mattresses. I promise you both."
"Hmm," he grumbles. "Your mother always wondered why Beth Woods froze her out. And Carl was a good golf buddy of mine. You understand that we've only just come to the realization that you made us look like fools."
"I know, Dad. I truly am sorry. If I'd known, I'd have handled things differently."
"She tried to tell you, son. Don't forget that."
"I know."
"What's the likelihood there are other little Greys running around that none of us know about?"
"Whoa, Dad!"
"It's a legitimate question."
I suppose it is... but I'm still reeling from the borderline accusation. "Honestly? You want to know?" If we're going there, we're going there.
"I do, in fact. Your reputation not to mention your bottom line could one day be at stake."
I finally blow out the monstrous sigh I've been holding. "All right, Dad, I warned you." This is humiliating. I fist my hair with my free hand and flop back on the meticulously arranged decorative pillows. "I was still in a relationship with Mrs. Lincoln at the time of Lily's and my… coupling. I came clean to her about the indiscretion. She... disciplined me. Foremost, for disrespecting her and our… relationship. I won't beat around that particular bush; however wrong our liaison was, it was immoral of me to flout my commitment to her. And rest assured, I never thought twice about using protection again. Both were hard lessons, and I learned them well the first time."
"Glad to hear it." My father's voice oozes sarcasm. "Which brings me to my next point. Judge Matthews requires our input on how to proceed, else he'll make his own ruling on Miss Woods' sentence." I've never heard my father address her so formally, even during proceedings. I suppose he's chosen to distance himself. She's always been 'Mia's friend, Lily' to him.
"I've made my intention clear to Ana; we'll speak on it again tomorrow and I'll let you know what we decide."
"By three o'clock, if you please. And Christian, when you do decide, call your sister. She deserves to hear about her best friend's fate from you."
Shit. "I will."
"I'll give your mother your regards."
And he ends the call. Yeah, Dad. Make me feel like the errant teenager and then hang up on me. Love you too.
It's too late to call Ana back. It's well past midnight here, as it is. I really want an answer from her; I can't fathom how to even approach an apology to Lily. Sure, I could try to come up with something in the meantime either way, but Ana's indecision hangs over me. She doesn't have a vindictive bone in her body. Jealous, yes, but never vengeful. Even during Hyde's trial, she wanted to be as far as possible from all that shit. As long as he was no longer a danger to anyone, she didn't care what happened. And she was pregnant at the time, so it could partly have been that she just didn't want to pile added stress on the baby. Completely understandable.
But this is different. This has more to do with me than it does her. And Lily's not a danger to anyone. Not in the sense of bodily harm, anyway. I don't have to be a shrink to see that.
I dial Flynn, and bask in the marvel that is Caller ID when he skips the formal greeting, as usual.
"Evening, Christian. What can I do for you?"
"Hope I didn't wake you." I'm not sorry if I did, for what I pay him, but I at least acknowledge that I'm aware of the inconvenience.
"Never an issue. What's up?"
"In short, Ana knows everything. My intention is the same as when we spoke on Wednesday." It seems a lot longer ago, already. "I want Ana's direction on how to proceed, but the judge needs a decision by tomorrow afternoon."
"And you don't want to press Ana, but you need an answer. Why don't you just tell her that?"
"Just like that?"
"She understands that the legal system has deadlines. Give her a little credit."
"But she doesn't know that she has any experience with this sort of thing, I mean, she doesn't remember the Hyde mess, and I'm not about to open that box."
"Christian, just tell it to her straight. When do you talk to her next?"
"In the morning."
"You're sure she's not awake now?"
"We chatted on Skype for a few minutes, she was getting ready for bed. I spent about twenty talking to my father. She's probably fast asleep now."
"Try this… send her a text, if she's up, she'll call you back. If not, catch her in the morning. Just give her as much time as you can, be calm and patient, but make her aware of the deadline. And then leave the decision up to her."
Wait… what? "Leave it up to her? All of it?"
"That's right."
"But…"
"Christian, she's never disappointed you, has she?"
He's got me there. Ana and I have always been like-minded where it really counts. It astounds me sometimes. "No. She's hasn't."
"So trust her now. And get some sleep."
"Thanks, John."
"Anytime."
I text Ana.
If you're still awake, I'd like to talk to you.
If not, don't worry. I'll catch you in the morning.
I love you.
My phone rings not thirty seconds later.
"Did I wake you?" I ask.
"Not really. I was mapping the swirls in the ceiling. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine, baby." Well, sort of.
She waits. "So… you wanted to talk."
"I did. I do."
"Should I brace myself?" she asks, trying to mask the apprehension in her voice. Good job, Grey. You've scared her.
"No, baby, it's nothing like that," I promise. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Rather, I'm trying to think of a way not to sound like a pushy asshole." Which you are, but you want Ana to think you're God in human form, the way she used to.
"Noted. Mind wide open."
Here goes. "I just spoke with my father. He gave us a deadline on determining Lily's punishment. Tomorrow at three... Well, today, I suppose, now. I'd like it if you decided what we should do."
"You want me to decide?" she balks. "I thought you already did?"
"I said I wanted your thoughts, if you recall. And then I realized that stance isn't entirely fair... you and Teddy were most affected by all this, so it stands to reason that you should decide." As the words pour from my lips, I realize how true they are. "And whatever you decide, I'll stand behind you."
"Um… okay," she stutters. "I think we should do what you originally wanted to do."
"You do?" Flynn, you bastard, how do you always know?
"Yes. I thought about it a bit more, and you're right. She shouldn't have done what she did. At the same time, she's been hurting too, for a long time it seems. She should be made to pay the community back for the county's time and tax dollars wasted, at the very least. Since she apparently comes from money, her payment ought to be in the form of service, right? So long as she goes to counseling as well."
I don't think you'd be so generous if you really knew her, baby. "That's very charitable of you, Ana. Yes, I'll insist on the service and counseling as mandatory. My father and Dr. Flynn can calculate just how much of each is warranted, and make their recommendation."
"You're still planning to speak with her, aren't you?"
"I am. So long as you're comfortable with it."
"Then we're good."
"Are you sure?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Anastasia…" I run my free hand through my hair. "You're amazing." She truly is. I can't imagine anyone better in this world. And she's mine.
"Why?"
"You just are."
"You're pretty incredible yourself."
"Is that so?"
I know she's rolling her eyes. "Christian, you've taken so much upon yourself for me, for Teddy, for our family, and you're running your company and who knows what else on top of it. You're always eight steps ahead. I don't know how you do it."
If I were home instead of here, I would take her this minute... 'special' be damned. Carpe diem, baby. That's the way to go.
"Christian?"
"Hmm?" I break from my reverie.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking about me?"
Oh, baby... "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes." I hear her smile.
"Hmm... I was thinking," I begin, "about all the lovely things I'm going to do to you when I get home."
"Is that so?" she teases.
"It is." And we'll leave it at that. Else my dick may explode.
"I don't get a hint?" she pouts.
"Nope. You'll just have to wait and be surprised." Fuck. I may give the suits an undeserved reprieve tomorrow.
I hear a frustrated sigh. "You're impossible."
I chuckle. "I know. Get some sleep now, all right?"
"If I must."
Oh, how the anticipation will drive her wild. "I'll take care of you tomorrow, baby. I promise."
"Okay. Until then."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
There's a silence.
"Still there?" I ask.
"Mm-hmm."
"You can hang up now."
"So can you."
I gasp. How does she know our game? "You first."
She ponders a minute. "On three?"
My God. "All right."
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
~ ANA ~
I'm awoken a little after dawn by six enormous, blinking eyes, two gray and four brown. It's only a second before I'm pounced. Much giggling and face-licking ensues. Oh, if every morning can be like this one for a while, it might be easier to get past the last few weeks.
Breakfast consists of banana oatmeal and some kind of organic, locally produced kibble. I don't think the 'twins' much care what it is, but it must be good because it's gone faster than Teddy's bowl of mashed… well, at this point, it's unidentifiable and all over his face. I think we're going to focus heavily on the concept of proper utensil usage for the foreseeable; these messes of his are just outrageous. Thirty minutes later, Teddy's clean. Another twenty and I've managed to wipe what sticky residue was transferred from Little Spiderman's hands to my clothes, and then I grab my laptop, child, and two furballs, and we're headed out back.
Our conversation last night... or should I say this morning... was surreal. It might be possible to trick me into believing it didn't happen. But then, it also felt like déjà vu. My head is spinning, but if I want to be quite honest with myself, the mild confusion is the last thing on my mind, when I recall the end of our chat.
"…all the lovely things I'm going to do to you..." he said. How stunningly, deliciously promising. And frightening... and overwhelmingly... oh, I don't have a sufficiently vivid word, my brain is swishing and zapping with all the potentially 'lovely things'... like what? I couldn't tell you. I have no idea. I've never had sex before. Let me rephrase… I don't remember ever having sex before. I don't know the first thing about it, aside from the technicality of 'insert tab A into outlet B.' Sounds simple, right? And he said he'd take care of me. It sounds so sweet, but is it code for something else? Oh, I can't think. Focus, Ana. It's just sex. No big deal right? Right? Oh, I need help. Kate raves about her experiences... or, she did in college, which I (again) remind myself was years ago. I set my laptop aside and, making sure Teddy is still conscious and the dogs haven't buried him in the herb garden and that the lone suit is out of earshot, I dial my BFF.
"Hey, sweetie. I've been a bad friend for not calling. How are you feeling?"
"Really good, actually. Are you busy?"
"I always have time for my bestie. What's up?"
I give her a general synopsis of the situation.
"First time jitters. Oh, I remember this. You'll be fine, Steele, don't worry. He'll take good care of you."
There's that line again. Sounds harmless when Kate says it, guess I'll let it go. I scoff. "Yeah, he's good at taking care of everything, and that's reassuring, don't get me wrong," I tell her. "But I'm more concerned with disappointing him. I don't know how to do a-ny-thing..."
"Ana, stop," Kate interrupts. "Honestly, I'm surprised the two of you haven't re-christened every surface of your entire house by now, the way you guys are, but I hear you." She shifts, and I hear a babbling in the background; she must be with Ava today. "Think about it," she continues. "The circumstances are the same as they were for your actual first time: he has experience, and you don't. Well, you do... but... anyway. You told me a little about it, and I got the notion that it was pretty extraordinary. So don't worry. Just get yourself clean and pretty, and let him do the rest."
"Are you sure?"
"You're going to get wrinkles if you don't stop making that face. I know you're doing it."
I immediately relax my forehead. Oh good granny, how does everyone know me better than I know myself? I sigh. Right, they aren't missing three years. "How do you suggest I get pretty?"
Ava squeals. "Give me a bit to settle my little chickadee and I'll be over to help. Is Christian at work?"
"He's in New York until dinnertime."
"Then we have plenty of time. Do you still have my plum dress?"
I shake my head. "I have no idea, why?"
Kate snickers. "You'll find out."
I guess these manuscripts will have to wait.
~oOo~
Kate is magic with a makeup brush. She orders me into a sweet-smelling bubble bath and hangs around while I shave my legs. We haven't had a date-prep-day in forever, and our positions were always reversed. The last one I can remember was after her breakup with the guy I secretly called Bill Nye. I swear, minus the bowtie, the guy looked just like Mr. Science, if a few decades younger, and Jose agreed with me. Not exactly my idea of hotness, but Kate said he was decent in bed. Whatever.
Teddy is a spectator in all this. He giggles as I yelp at having my eyebrows tweezed, and looks on longingly as Kate paints my toenails a rich berry. I hope Christian isn't the type to get upset about boys wearing polish, because Teddy insisted on a nice clearcoat after we talked him out of the pastel pink he noticed on little Ava's fingers.
I digress.
We enjoy a refreshing spa lunch, the five of us, including Gail. After some reassurance from Kate and some gushing over what a hot mama I am, she's off to get ready for some event with Elliot.
Gail insists on babysit this evening. She doesn't miss a trick.
And so now, at four pm, I'm in the plum dress that Kate tore my closet apart to find, and some heels by a designer whose name I can't pronounce. She also dug up some sparkly earrings and sprayed me with jasmine before declaring me fuckable.
Her word, not mine.
I decide to cook dinner to keep me occupied. Kate told me I should order in from a place around the corner that Christian raves about, but I need to keep my hands and brain busy, in which order of importance I still can't decide. Gail gave me some menu ideas and then disappeared with Teddy. No dogs, no toddler, no staff. Just a big, empty house that smells like the tenderloin roast and parmesan potatoes quietly hissing in the oven. I set myself to snapping the ends off fresh string beans before steaming them… a habit I picked up from my mother… when I hear the front door.
"Let him come find you," Kate had said. It doesn't help in preparing vegetables that my fingers have set to trembling.
I feel two arms wrap my waist from behind and settle over my apron, and warm lips press against my neck.
"Mmm, you smell so good, baby."
I giggle, turning in his arms and linking my hands behind his neck. "Hi," I murmur, lifting up onto my toes.
He meets my mouth reverently, pulling me in close, his hands splaying over my back, one traveling down... down...
"Hi yourself," he murmurs against my lips, his traveling hand finding my backside and rewarding me with a gentle squeeze. Oh my.
"Hungry?"
He just nods.
"I made a roast," I tell him. I don't exactly mean for the words to come out seductively, but they do. And I end up feeling like a clumsy little girl.
He smiles, rubbing his nose over mine. "Oh, that's not what I'm hungry for, Mrs. Grey."
I feel the blush travel up from my neck and down over my back, awakening and igniting nerves I never thought I had. I have to actually think about staying on my feet else they might have curled and landed me on my ass. Thank God Christian's arms are around me.
"No witty retort?" he teases. "Perhaps you do need sustenance. He pats my bottom, and then rubs it seductively. "Let's eat."
It's another ten minutes before the beans are steamed, and in that time the roast has rested, the potatoes buttered and seasoned, and Christian has brushed up against me as many times as he can get away with as he asks me about my day. He's either genuinely interested in female grooming rituals, or just in listening to me babble on about them. The way his eyes follow my every move, every gesture... and then the way he carves the roast... am I swooning? And he's enjoying it!
"So... is everything... settled?" I say, sipping my glass of Cabernet.
His face darkens just a touch, but he covers quickly, reaching across to grasp my hand. "It is. Nothing more to think about."
I nod, not wanting to press and ruin the mood, but curious nonetheless.
"We can talk about it tomorrow. For now, all I need is my wife's good company while I eat this phenomenal dinner she's worked so hard to make for me."
"Phenomenal, huh? She must love you a lot, to go to all this trouble," I tease.
"I pray every minute that she does. My wife is a profoundly special person; the most indescribably special." His expression sobers. "She's put up with quite a lot from me over the years. I know exactly where I'd be without her, and it's the last place on earth I desire to be."
His words are heavy and heartfelt. He closes his eyes briefly, and when they open, they're soft gray again. "Sorry about that. You have an enduring effect on me, Mrs. Grey. It catches me by surprise at times."
And acts as truth serum, methinks.
Christian turns the conversation to weekend plans, a few events to which we've been invited, having my mother and Bob for Thanksgiving at our Aspen home... rewinding to explain that we have a ranch house in Aspen, and a penthouse in New York… where he stayed last night, incidentally… and others in Chicago and on Miami Beach. And then he asks about Teddy. The man worships that little boy. His eyes shine with reverence as I describe the breakfast messes, clothing malfunctions, verbal outbursts and loving Mommy moments over the weeks he's missed. We hadn't gotten to talk about that. I think we'll be delving into those things once in a while for some time to come.
Christian insists that I leave our dishes at the table. Taking my hand, he leads me from the candlelit dining room. And that's when I remember the dessert I made.
"Leave it, he says. "You're all the dessert I need."
My knees give out.
He sweeps me into his arms, effortlessly. "I love this dress, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs, running the tip of his nose over mine. The gesture has so much promise; every time he does it I want to melt into him. I brush his softly stubbled jaw with my fingers, and he closes his eyes. When they open again, they've nearly burned black with desire… for clumsy little bookworm Ana? Surely not… I feel suddenly and overwhelmingly inadequate in the presence of such perfection.
"You're overthinking, aren't you, my little scholar?"
How does he fucking know?
"Um... I..."
"Shh... He soothes. "Don't think. Only feel, Ana."
"Feel..."
"Yes."
"Feel what?"
He smiles. "Everything."
I hadn't noticed that he'd moved until the subtle lift of his strong legs carrying us up the stairs pulled me from stupefaction, that and the sound of my heels falling one at a time to land on the steps. I blink inwardly, as if to reset my brain and set it on course. Christian carefully sets me on my feet, and rather than release me as I expect, he pulls me in close, his face inches from mine.
"Promise me something," he whispers.
"Anything."
He takes two deep breaths. "If anything is uncomfortable, or if you want to stop, you'll tell me."
I nod, imagining my expression to be not unlike that of a woodland creature in the forelight of an oncoming train. "I promise."
~ CHRISTIAN ~
She's so beautiful. So perfect, so innocent, her large blue eyes tracking me through dinner... oh, that meal was superb... and now that it's over, I'm nervous. I'm rarely nervous, but when I am, it's always to do with Ana. Always for the simple reason that I'd die rather than disappoint her, or let harm come to her. Rather than cause her one ounce of sadness. Of pain. I'll never willingly hurt her, but sadly, on occasion, it's happened. And if there's one thing she's always struggled with, it's communicating when she's reached a limit. Such a little rule-breaker, she is. But she doesn't remember... she doesn't know that. And so I ask her to promise to tell me.
And she agrees, without hesitation.
I plan to exploit every one of her special places tonight, all those points that make her eyes roll back and her toes curl. Oh, my dick strains to be close to her. Be still, my friend. Our lady needs much attention first.
Her breaths come quicker, and I've not really touched her yet. I step back slightly, breaking the frontal contact, and slowly drag my fingernails up her arms from her wrists with a feather light touch.
"Are you going to make love to me?" She whispers. Oh, the innocence of her lips. What a gift, the coveted chance to relive her first time, to get it right. To make it... More.
"I am," I smile down at her, softly. "Is that what you'd like?"
Her nod is stunned, subtle. The hitch in her breaths is my only clue of her willingness, her malleability. She wants to let me touch her... to feel her... to take her.
My fingers have reached her shoulders, traveling behind her neck to the clasp of her dress. Impulsively, I step in again, claiming her mouth with mine.
"My shirt, Ana," I whisper against her lips. "The buttons, please."
Her hands tremble, but rise immediately, brushing my belly and chest on their way up. In darkness, she shouldn't see much of my scars, if any at all. Surely she's seen them, she's had plenty of opportunity… but she's not asked. This shouldn't be about me.
It's all about her. Her fingers release the top two buttons. I let my hands fall down her body and pull my shirt from the waistband. Ana stills.
"It's all right, baby. Don't be afraid." I take the rest of the buttons myself, steadily, efficiently, and then, clasping her fingers, bring her palms to splay over my chest. The sensation is... Wow. I close my eyes. She's touched me, my bare skin, since she woke up… but never like this. Never with this intensity, this purpose. Our collective lifeblood flows through the points where our skin connects. No one has ever been this close to anyone else, this linked, with this level of belonging. And I'll show her just what it means to feel this way.
Her fingers flex, bringing be back to the present. I guide her hands to my trousers. With trembling fingers, she pops the button, my hands hovering over hers, to give her confidence. I love guiding her. I love watching her fumble; it's so endearing. She looks up at me, expectantly.
"It's okay," I tell her, shifting just enough to toe-heel out of my shoes and scooting them behind me. "Help me out of them."
She hesitates only a moment before working the zipper down with care, as though my package would leap from its place of restraint if she weren't careful. Yes, she's waking the tiger. I've struggled to keep him in check until this moment, and I simply can't any longer. She pushes the waistband down over my hips, and they fall to the floor. I step out of them, raising one foot and then the other to pull off my socks. A lady should never have to remove a man's socks.
Her gaze is fixated southward. I enjoy her marveling, and then bring my fingers under her chin so that she looks at me.
"Like what you see, Ana?"
She blushes, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she looks bashfully away. I pull her gaze back to mine. "I'm all yours. I've only ever been for you."
My hands travel down her body, gathering the hem of her plum dress, the dress. She and Kate must have discussed its significance long ago. And the earrings… my second chance earrings. I nearly keeled over in the kitchen when I noticed them. How perfectly appropriate that she should wear them tonight, even if she doesn't know why. I should tell her.
"Arms up, my love." She complies, and I lift the fabric over her head and let it drop to the floor. I want to save her from her past shyness regarding nudity, and step immediately into her arms, our warmth radiating between and around us. "Did Kate help you pick out the dress?"
Ana nods. "She mentioned that you'd like it."
"Did she tell you why?" My hands run a slow, sensual course over her arms, back, shoulders, waist… even the lace covering her bottom, my fingertips dipping just inside the elastic.
She emits a tiny gasp, and shakes her head.
My lips form a smile. "It was the first dress I ever saw you wear," I murmur, bringing my lips to hover over hers, and they brush mine when she nods. My smile widens. "It still takes my breath away. You wear it whenever you desire to have my full attention," I sigh at the sprinkling of memories over the years and I bring my lips to her ear. "And these earrings…" I plant a soft kiss on that special spot behind her earlobe, "… they were my gift to you, after you granted me a second chance."
Her breathing quickens, eyes closed. She's weakening. Thank God my arms are around her. I scoop her up, causing her to emit a tiny squeal. It's so adorable, I nearly laugh, if not for the straining in my boxers.
Before I lay her on our bed, our eyes connect. Something similar passed between us on our first night in the new house… this house… our home. It was as though we knew we belonged here, as though our respective lives had prepared us, set the course that led to that exact moment, and we didn't know it until we were there. It was just another exquisite night of lovemaking, but the connection reminded us how far we'd come, and how grand the journey before us could be.
"You're everything to me, Anastasia. I'm going to show you just how much I love you."
CHAPTER 24
~ ANA ~
He pulls the dress over my head, and when my sight returns, his eyes are blazing.
"Did Kate help you pick out the dress?" he asks.
I manage a nod, pinned by his gaze. No one has ever looked at me this way before. "She mentioned that you'd like it," I mumble.
"Did she tell you why?" His hands trace my arms to my shoulders, and then plunge down my back, leaving fire in their wake. He settles at my waist, his fingertips skimming the lace band of my panties. I suck in a breath and shake my head. I may just crumble right here.
He produces that beautiful smile again, the one borne of sunshine and all that's good in the world. "It was the first dress I ever saw you wear," he tells me. "It still takes my breath away. You wear it whenever you desire to have my full attention."
His voice is so damned seductive. I gasp. It's all I can do. His lips brush mine, shooting sparks all the way to my fingertips and toes. A thousand questions come to mind, but are interrupted when he continues.
"And these earrings…" his lips shift to a soft spot behind my earlobe, and my legs start to tremble. "…they were my gift to you, after you granted me a second chance."
Oh, God. If intimacy is this overwhelming, how does anyone function? How is Christian still functioning? He's so controlled… so is it me? My eyes close of their own will, and less than a second later, I'm in his arms. My eyes fly open, and I do believe I squeak.
Our gazes connect. A moment suspended in time… that's what such a concept must feel like. And it's more than that… in the warmth of his arms, I'm… home. I know it, I feel it. I belong here. As a fish speared by hook, to tear myself away would call upon unimaginable pain, this much I know. His eyes tell me that he feels the same.
He places me on the bed, and the words run like wine from his lips; "You're everything to me, Anastasia. I'm going to show you just how much I love you."
What air rests in my lungs leaves me in a rush. I may expire from his words alone. He perches on the edge of the bed, his torso twisted to face me, and the muscles across his chest and abdomen ripple delightfully. He's. So. Hot. My hand lifts, unbidden, and stretches toward him, and I stop mid-reach. I'm not sure how any of this is supposed to work. All I know is that my body screams with need for him. Christian senses my inner conflict and reaches out for my hand, guiding it forward until it makes contact with warm skin. He turns forward into my touch, my immobile hand brushing over his abdomen, as he leans in to stretch over me. His lips descend to hover over mine, his hot, sweet breath in my face, and his nose brushes mine. "Touch me, Anastasia," he whispers. "Please, touch me."
And then his lips crush mine. He moves reverently, passionately, licking into my mouth. Good God, this man can kiss. My hands abruptly find their purpose, stroking his magnificent body from his waist, over his stomach, running up his chest, over his shoulders and back to the beginning again, and then around his back, and I pull him closer. He complies eagerly with my insistence, his abdomen pressed to mine, and then, with no warning, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. I gasp, arching my back, and my breasts thrust forward into his chest. He moans, a starving man led to a feast and told to take all he wants.
His back muscles coil beneath my hands as he resumes his delectable worship of my mouth. Oh, I could spend an eternity touching every inch of him, memorizing how he feels, every ridge, every peak and vale, every spot that makes him gasp or sigh. My fingers glide down the subtle valley over his spine, brushing the elastic of his boxers. Oh, his skin is even warmer here. I take the lesson from his squeezing of my ass and give his a nice, firm grab.
Christian's hips thrust forward into my belly, and he groans into my mouth. He remembers himself and chuckles, peppering my lips with fluttering kisses. "My girl wants to play…" he murmurs, his mouth traveling the line of my jaw. "Perhaps we'll explore that later, but for now…" his lips trace my neck, my collarbone, down to the valley between my breasts. Oh my… we're really going to do this. "I want to kiss every inch of you." His determined hands lift me gently so that I rest on my elbows as he releases the clasp of my bra. My skin is a live wire, and as such I should have passed out long ago. I feel the subtle shift of my breasts as they bask in the release from their bonds.
"So beautiful," he breathes, straddling me, and his mouth descends to kiss the swell of one breast, teasing a circle around the nipple. I'm lightheaded from watching him. His eyes are closed, his brow furrowed with concentrated lust. His tongue emerges to lick the path he's just kissed, and then he sneaks one hand to the other breast, while the other slides up my back to support me.
My brain is torn asunder at all the sensations, but none more than the subtle acts of care. He touches me so carefully, pays so much attention to drawing out my pleasure while at the same time supporting my back, taking some of the weight off my elbows… I hadn't realized the position was growing uncomfortable until he took the ache away. He must grow an extra arm, because there's a pillow beneath my shoulders and he's lowering me onto it.
"Comfortable?" he rasps, his eyes both caring and demanding.
"Yes," I breathe.
His lips twist into an impish grin. And then he takes my nipple in his mouth. My eyes cross… or I think they do. I don't know. I don't know anything… except for the silken suction of his mouth, the pinch and twist of his capable fingers, the warmth of breath and tickle of hair and clench of muscle as the stars burst forth from nowhere and my body betrays me, lifting supernaturally from the bed and shattering into a thousand shards of bliss, and then dissolves away into the darkness.
~ CHRISTIAN ~
God, it's been an eternity since I made my wife come. The heaving little sighs, curling of her delectable toes, the bucking of her precious hips, fisting the sheets in her delicate fingers… my dick throbs for her.
But it can't have her yet. I can't have her yet. Not quite.
She's still panting, chest rising and falling, eyes closed, and just the barest sheen of perspiration over her perfect skin. I ache to taste her. My lips fall upon the valley between her breasts. My tongue emerges, trailing south a line of wet, sucking kisses, my hands moving ahead, to the line of lace. My lady hasn't quite returned from the land of oblivion as I begin the slow slide of elastic down, down.
She's let her hair grow, down there. Naughty man that I am, I cannot resist dipping my nose into the soft, dark fluff, and revel in a deep, luxurious inhale.
Oh, she smells glorious.
I open my eyes and raise them to take her in, and she's staring back at me. "Your scent is so sweet, Anastasia. I'm going to taste you now."
Her eyebrows rise, and she whimpers.
"Hush, baby." I press a kiss to her mound, and her whole body shivers. "Give me your hands." I kneel up, and as she hesitantly extends both arms toward me as though she isn't quite sure where my mind is. I take advantage of the distraction of movement to part her knees, pushing them gently back toward her. "Hold your legs there," I instruct softly, releasing her briefly enough to catch her hands and place them exactly where mine were. I want to give her ownership in her next orgasm, control of her fate. I smile coyly, her gaze tracking me as I lower myself to the promised land. Oh, her cleft is just as I remember. Soft, pink, puckered, and unfailingly glistening. She wants this, without a shred of doubt. My tongue descends.
Sweet mother of fuck… her bud trembles upon my first lick. Oh, this is going to be fast, I can feel it. Must do everything possible to extend this… to pull her back from the edge. Her chest heaves once again, and I break the delicious contact with her part, only to blow sensually over the trembling nub. Her legs spasm under her hands.
Oh, fuck it… she needs to come. To take the edge off, to make the next one… and the one after that… last longer. I'll make this last all night, baby. My mouth descends again, my lips surrounding her clit, and I suckle gently.
Ana explodes with a riled scream, a battle cry of literary proportions. So responsive, Mrs. Grey. I release her nub, but only for a moment as she descends back to earth… and then I lower my tongue tentatively to stroke her slit. Her whole body spasms as though I've just electrocuted her.
"Hold on, baby," I breathe, pressing my palms to her thighs to pin her hips to the bed. My tongue dances over the swelling flesh, tapping her sensitive nub ever so gently. She calls out incoherently, fingers digging into her legs where she holds them. I test her further, sliding a finger along the path run by my tongue and then plunging it into her. I'm rewarded with another shriek from my lady. She's quivering on the edge of orgasm, and rather than ask her to hold off, I press on… sliding my finger in and out, massaging her swollen tissues, my mouth doing the work of angels. She stiffens only a few seconds later, and I draw out her pleasure, running a teasing ring around her clit with my tongue.
"Chris-tian…" she mumbles.
I chuckle. "Can't you speak, baby?" I tease, rising onto my knees again and peeling her fingers from her legs. She's left pink marks where she gripped her skin. Thank goodness for her short fingernails.
"Uh-uh," she rolls her head from side to side, eyes closed again. I massage her palms, carefully manipulating her fingers with my expert hands. Her cheeks are flushed, a blush of pink rising to her chest and belly as well. God, she's beautiful when we make love.
"That… was…" she whispers. Why, yes, it was.
Thank you, dear Lord, for making her mine.
I lean up over her, pressing gentle kisses to her mouth. When her lips resume their dance with mine, I know she's returned enough to continue. Her hands wrap tentatively about my neck, pulling me closer. My loins catch fire. She wants me. I need to hear it.
"Tell me you want me, Anastasia," I breathe to her lips. "Tell me."
Her hot breaths puff at my mouth. "I want you. I need you, Christian. Please."
Yes, my love. And you shall have me. All of me.
I press a final kiss to her lips and kneel up, shuffling out of my boxers. When I catch her gaze again, her eyes are saucers.
Shit… right, I remember this part. "It's okay, baby. We're a perfect fit." Then it dawns on me.
She isn't on birth control. She hasn't been since she conceived Phoebe. I didn't think… oh, shit. She mentioned babies not long ago, but she can't want this now, for fuck's sake. She can't possibly be ready for me to make her a mother again. Christ, I'm screwing up. Again.
She looks worried. My moment of dazed realization must have taken longer than a few seconds. Perhaps she thinks now I'm having doubts. I swallow hard. There are a few condoms in the drawer, if I recall correctly. They've been there a while, just as a backup, but they shouldn't be expired. I relax my expression. "Shall I fetch a condom?"
She frowns, sobered. "Why?"
I shrug. "I didn't ask you before, and I should have. I'd love more children with you… but I want you to be ready. It's your call, baby."
Her voice largely returns to her, and sounds remarkably clearheaded for the current state of affairs. "I want you," she tells me. "Let it happen… please."
My head whirls at her request. I lean over her again, my lips pressing to hers, feverishly. "I love you, Ana," I say between kisses. "I'd give it all to make a baby with you." Her tongue comes to meet mine, swirling together. She fists my hair in her fingers. "Are you sure?" I whisper.
She nods, her nose brushing mine.
As you wish, my lady. I slide back against the sheets, lowering my hips so that I hover at her entrance. The swollen tip brushes her wetness, and just like coming home, I push into her.
My favorite place in the world.
Ana gasps at the rush of fullness, eyes wild with unnamed emotion, mouth a perfect. 'o'. Her hands come to my sides, fingers brushing the sensitive skin over my ribs, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. I know what she's doing… she's done it before. Before. Unconscious memory is an extraordinary thing; and I thank heaven and earth that she has its guidance. She's adjusting to me, the tactile exploration distracting her just enough from the overwhelming presence inside her, to keep her from coming instantly. Her palms finally settle at my back, and she pulls me closer.
And that's my cue.
~ ANA ~
"Tell me you want me, Anastasia," I breathe to her lips. "Tell me."
His breath is intoxicating, it makes my head swim. He's so beautiful, asking me, begging me. I don't make him wait. "I want you. I need you, Christian. Please."
His lips ignite against mine, and then he removes himself from me, sitting up between my legs and dragging his thumbs into the hem of his boxers, pulling them down… and releasing himself.
Sweet Jesus.
His manhood points to me, like a compass to his true north. My throat goes dry. It's huge. Oh, God… how?
"It's okay, baby." The corners of his mouth twitch knowingly. "We're a perfect fit." His gaze is hungry, drawing down to the place he'd just moments before placed his mouth. There aren't words for that. I had no idea it could be like that. No idea that my body was capable. And he knew exactly how to touch me… and where. I had… no idea.
The anticipation-driven daze snaps, and his face comes into focus… he's gone white.
Oh no… what did I do? Is he having second thoughts? Is there something wrong with me?
My expression must compute on some level, because his expression relaxes. "Shall I fetch a condom?" he asks calmly.
My brows knit. So that's it. I drag myself out of the moment in order to think rationally, but it's unnecessary… I don't see a problem. We're married, we have a child already, he's expressed an interest in having more, it doesn't always happen on the first try, I have no idea where I am in my cycle… it just doesn't matter to me. All I want is to be close to him. Nothing matters but us. "Why?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I didn't ask you before, and I should have. I'd love more children with you… but I want you to be ready. It's your call, baby." His soft gray eyes are sincere, and behind them, I can see a hint of wanting the unknown, just as I do.
"I want you," I say. "Let it happen… please."
His barely-there smile returns, and he leans over me again, his lips capturing and dancing heatedly with mine. "I love you, Ana," he whispers. "I'd give it all to make a baby with you."
Oh. Fucking. My.
My tongue dives into his mouth, pulling, with his, stroking and swirling, my hands fisting his hair. I taste a hint of myself on him. It's strange, and hot… and so, so sweet.
"Are you sure?" he whispers.
I nod, bumping his nose with mine.
He lifts slightly and I feel the sheets pull as he straightens his legs… and then he's there, pressing, sliding. His eyes lock with mine, and without preamble, he fills me.
Oh… God…
I've found the kingdom of heaven. It's inside me, at the place where our bodies join, where we become one person. No beginning, and no end. My muscles clench deliciously around him, pulsing and trembling, uncontrolled. My hands find his skin, wanting to be even closer, discovering that the sensation keeps me on the precipice, if only just. He waits patiently, watching my face.
My hands find their goal at his back. I'm ready for more. I think.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he instructs softly.
I lift my legs, my hips tilting up, and the point of contact shifts. Oh, he slides deeper. I throw my head back as my ankles lock around his waist.
I sigh audibly. "Christian…"
"I love you, Anastasia," he breathes.
And he begins to move. Sliding slowly, deliberately… out, and in. His hips drive forward with power and gentleness. His arms come around me, holding me to him, resting his weight on his elbows as not to crush me, but even if he did, I'd revel in that too. He's just so. Fucking. Beautiful.
And he's mine.
And I, his.
I see a shift on the horizon, a blinding noise… a pause during a rainstorm, where the droplets hang in midair. A shiny, opalescent bubble, colors swirling, an inverted reflection of someone I know, just out of reach. A grainy movie. A smile. The flutter of sleeping eyelashes. Warmth of sand at my feet. A whiff of jasmine and soap, the swish of silver satin, the rush of air between lips…
"Ana?"
Hmm… Christian…
"Ana!"
What?
"Oh, God… baby, please!"
Christian? He's worried…
"Don't do this… baby, please don't do this to me…"
I haven't heard him this worried since Teddy was born. It's okay, Christian, I'm here…
"Wake up, baby, please wake up…"
"Hmm…"
"Ana?"
I'm born into darkness, except for the silvery moonlight. Christian's silhouette is above me. I swallow. "What's wrong?" I say groggily.
"Oh thank God." His body slumps at my side… his naked body… arms clutching me. The nudity of Christian Grey does things to me. I curl toward him, his arms tightening around me. Why is he so upset?
"Christian? Was it a nightmare?"
He shifts a bit to look at me. "What?"
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Baby… you blacked out again."
"Blacked out…"
"Yes."
Again? Again… again…
Oh God.
I remember.
"I remember…"
"You remember?"
"Yes…"
"What do you remember?"
My breaths aren't enough to stop the sparks in my brain. "Everything," I whisper.
And then, as the flood of everything regained washes through, the tears rip sharply from me.
His arms band around me, dragging me to him, into his lap as a high, keening wail dribbles up from my soul and spills over. I remember… oh, I remember…
…
"Mrs. Grey! Mrs. Grey, hold on, help is coming!" A hand grasps mine… cold, wet… "No… don't go to sleep! Mrs. Grey, Ana!"
…
His face… so sad…
No, Christian, don't be sad, I'm here…
His fingers are warm. I'm so tired. What happened, Christian?
My voice echoes, as though from another body… "Who's… Mrs. Grey?"
Christian turns white. No… Christian, don't be scared. Don't leave… please don't leave me…
…
"We have a son, Ana."
"A son?"
"Yes."
"I have a son?"
"Yes."
"I'm a mother?"
"Yes."
How could I not know him? How could I forget my precious Teddy? Oh, I feel sick…
…
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For humoring me."
He gasps, shocked. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
I shrug. "I don't know."
"Why the hostility, baby?"
I don't know… I don't know… I don't fucking know… but I want to cry. And cry. And cry…
"Oh, baby, no." He pulls me into his arms. "Shh... Ana, it's all right. I'm sorry, so sorry, baby. Tell me what I can do. I'll do anything. Please, baby. I need you to tell me."
"Make... me... remember..."
…
"Theodore, no!"
My son is crying, and I missed it. "What happened?"
"He tried to swallow a pebble, Ma'am."
"Maamaamaaaa…"
He could have choked… he could have died… God, I'm unfit…
…
"You don't want me…"
"Oh, but I do… it's just not the right time."
"You mean, it's not the right time… for you."
"Baby, it's not what you think… I'm afraid."
"You're afraid of me?"
"I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
"So you won't touch me."
"What do you want from me?"
"Just go away. Go! Get out! I don't want you near me!"
The knife twists.
…
"Say it. Hurt me."
"I'd rather hurt him." Oh why have I returned to this?
"Well I'm him right now. Hurt me."
"I can't!" He's been through so much. I've never wanted to hurt him before, ever. How could I have felt such malice?
"Perhaps not. Perhaps you're no good for him."
"How can you say that?" Because it's true. Admit it.
"Is it true?" Yes. I've never felt like I was good enough. But … he tells me I am, every day.
"No, I…"
"Then what's the problem?"
"I don't know!"
"Yes you do. Stop hiding behind your excuses and say it."
"I don't want to remember him!"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm afraid!" Damn right. And never more than right now, watching this unfold again, from the other side.
"Why?"
"Because I love him!"
…
"Ana, go back upstairs."
"Mrs. Grey, we need you to come with us."
"What?"
"Ana…"
No… don't take me from my family… don't take me from my Christian…
"Mommy?"
"Shh, Teddy, I have you. It's going to be okay. Christian?"
Two uniforms move to surround him, effectively cutting him off from me. My feet regain their purpose and find the landing in seconds.
"Ana! No, this is illegal! I'll have all your jobs for this!"
"Mr. Grey, I have a warrant and my orders. Please stand aside."
"What's going on?"
"Mrs. Grey, we need you to come with us. We just have some questions."
"Ask them here, now."
"We have our orders, Mrs. Grey. Please."
"Christian!"
"Ana! No, let go of me!"
…
Christian's softly sobbing plea pulls me back to reality. "Christ, Ana… my Ana… I thought I'd lost you forever."
~ CHRISTIAN ~
She sighs my name, and my heart bursts. "I love you, Anastasia."
Wrapped in each other, moving inside her… inside my wife… nothing compares. Nothing in life is as precious as the bond between us. Oh, she feels so good… it's going to be over far sooner than I'd like, but her panting, little breaths and the grip of her fingers assure me that she needs me as desperately.
I drive her to the precipice, and as she falls, I go with her.
A feathery memory brushes by, a connection, a recollection of the first time we were joined so intimately. I suppress a chuckle. Our first time couldn't hold a candle to what we've just shared. I only worshipped her then. Now, and forever since, I've loved her, with every last whisper of my soul; the soul my precious girl gave back to me.
Ana's gone limp beneath me, as she so often does, her soft breaths against my cheek. I press soft kisses to her cheeks, her nose, her lips. "I love you, Ana," I whisper.
A tiny, familiar pinprick jabs me in the gut… uncertainty.
"You okay, baby?" I call gently, as not to frighten her. Her breaths remain even, eyelids unflinching. The pinprick spreads rapidly. "Ana?" I push away from her, if only to give her room to breathe… my dick protesting the sudden withdrawal. Fuck him, he's done this to her. I've done this… I've hurt her, somehow. Again. Oh, God… "Ana!" My hands are at her forehead, her cheeks, trembling fingers without purpose or plan, worrying over her still body. "Oh, God… baby, please!"
What the fuck have I done? What the fuck have I… oh, Christ… I came so long and hard, it's difficult to say how long she'd actually been out before I bothered to notice. I'm such a selfish, sorry excuse for a husband... "Don't do this… baby, please don't do this to me…" I cry. "Wake up, baby, please wake up…"
I reach for the phone.
"Hmm…" a small groan rumbles from her throat.
Oh, thank God… "Ana?"
Her eyes open slowly, slightly unfocused, and she looks up at me? "What's wrong?" she murmurs.
"Oh thank God." As though I'd just finished an ultramarathon, the adrenaline leaves me and my body gives out, relief spiraling through me. I gather her into my arms, and my heart gives a small leap when I feel her curl into me.
"Christian? Was it a nightmare?" her voice pulls.
I shift a bit to look at her. "What?"
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"Baby… you blacked out again."
"Blacked out…"
"Yes."
Something passes over her features. A thought… a memory, perhaps? I'd prayed her episodes were over. It isn't fair... she deserves so much better.
"I remember…"
"You remember?" I parrot. I'm still stuck on what to do... she'll obviously need more tests. More time with her doctor… oh, Christ…
"Yes…"
"What do you remember?" I ask, gently.
She pauses again, her features awash with… realization? She turns to me.
"Everything."
CHAPTER 25
~ ANA ~
I wake in darkness to the sensation of fingers softly caressing my face.
"Christian?"
"I'm sorry, baby." The caressed move to my shoulder and down my arm. "I didn't mean to wake you."
The glow of predawn light reflected in his expression holds me. "How long have you been awake?"
He swallows. Blinking, he opens his mouth to speak, and them closes it again.
Ah. "You didn't go to sleep."
He shakes his head.
Oh, somehow I expected this. I rise onto my elbow and turn until I loom over him instead, resting my hand over his heart. He blinks up at me. "I'm still here. I know that's what you were afraid of. I didn't go anywhere."
"But what if..."
I bring my fingers to his mouth. "Don't do that. I'm here, I'm back, and I love you." Our eyes connect for a long moment, and then I settle over him, resting my ear over his chest. His heart thuds steadily. Just like always, he's my rock. My mind starts to wander as his fingers comb through my hair.
And as the significance of everything that's happened comes crashing down on me, I begin to cry.
Christian doesn't shush me as he often might; he hates to see me cry. Instead, he shifts me gently up his chest so that my head tucks into his shoulder, my legs straddling his thin-shirted torso... he wants to hold me without trapping me. The gesture makes me cry harder.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here," he whispers over and over, his fingers gliding and rubbing over my back, my shoulders and arms, moving my hair out of my face. He's such a good man. I have with me now the clarity of all he's been through these past months, all he's had to bear on his own, and it breaks my heart. And to think I almost left him and Teddy in the beginning... how could I have even considered it? I'm a terrible wife.
I think the last thought may have slipped out in verbal form, because his arms tighten around me, and I hear his soft words in my ear.
"No, Ana, never. You've been remarkable."
I don't feel remarkable. I feel railroaded, and ashamed, and... sore. My muscles clench, and I wince. We didn't use protection last night. I don't know how I feel about that, with everything else crashing down around me. I didn't seem to mind the idea last night, in fact, I welcomed it. I wonder… Suddenly, I have the urge to see my son, to make sure he's safe in his bed, and offhandedly wonder if this is how Christian feels sometimes, whether it's the sudden shift of thought that sets him on an opposing course. I push up off of his warm body and roll out of bed.
"Baby?"
I'm a bit wobbly, but I stumble forward toward the door, dashing the tears from my cheeks with my fingers.
"Ana, what is it?"
"I need to see Teddy," I mutter.
He's between me and the door in a second. "You might want to put on some clothes first."
I look down at myself. Clothes. Of course. My underwear lie in a heap of discarded things on the floor. I yank them up my legs, and when I stand again, Christian is behind me in his boxers, holding my robe open. I allow him to dress me. I'm not sure about anything at this point, but I can let him do this, at least.
He grasps my hand, preventing me from walking away, and reaches for the landline.
"Taylor... Sorry to wake you, we'd like Teddy home with us. Yes. Fine, I'll meet you at the side door."
I'd forgotten that Teddy wasn't in his room tonight; this is how jumbled I am. And now I've deprived some of our best people a good night's sleep. I burst into tears again.
"Shh, baby... Taylor's bringing him," Christian soothes, pulling me into his chest. Thinking better of it, he swings me gently into his arms and carries me from our suite and down the stairs. He nudges the living room light panel with his elbow and moves to deposit me in my favorite spot on the couch. That couch. I don't think I can get up, and the need to see my son grows desperate.
Christian reads my thoughts, as usual. "Stay here. I'll bring him to you."
~ CHRISTIAN ~
I don't know what's wrong with her. Last night was... there aren't words. My love had returned to me, by all the blessings of this earth, the powers that be deemed fit to give me back my wife, to give Anastasia her life back. I don't think we've ever been so connected, in body and soul.
And now I look at this woman, crying inconsolably, and it's the beginning all over again. I don't know what to do. I just hold her; it's all I know.
And now she has the sudden desire to see our son. Completely understandable. Something I expect, I can work with. I redirect Ana from roaming the house unclothed and dial the Taylors.
"Sir?"
"Taylor... Sorry to wake you, we'd like Teddy home with us."
"Of course. Is everything all right?"
"Yes."
"Very good, Sir. I'll bring him right over."
"Fine, I'll meet you at the side door."
I hang up, and Ana's crying again. "Shh, baby... Taylor's bringing him," I tell her. Oh, this isn't going well. I scoop her into my arms and carry her downstairs, nudging the lights to their dimmest setting and depositing her on the couch.
"Stay here. I'll bring him to you," I instruct. I have no idea if she'll listen. I pull a chenille blanket from the arm of the couch and throw it across her lap. She blinks up at me. "Be right back."
Taylor is coming up the walkway, my sleeping son chimpanzeed in his arms, when I disable the alarm to let him through. He carefully transfers Teddy's warm, limp body to me.
"Thank you, Jason. You and Gail take the weekend off."
"Is anything the matter, Sir?" he asks, his voice low.
My expression must be giving me away. You're slipping Grey, get it together. But on the other hand, part of Taylor's job is to detect my state of mind and anticipate my actions... Teddy shifts in his sleep and I rub his back to soothe him. "Ana's memory returned a few hours ago," I say softly, as though I'm admitting it to myself as well. "She's having a rough time of it."
"I see," he sighs heavily, but there's relief behind his eyes. "Let us know if we can do anything, Sir."
"Thank you. Until Monday."
I reactivate the alarm and carry Teddy down the darkened hallway to Ana. She's curled into herself, but lifts her head when I enter the room.
"Here's your son, Mrs. Grey," I murmur. It strikes me suddenly that those were my exact words as I lay our newborn son in his mother's arms on the day he was born. While quite accidental, it seems fitting now, as I transfer his sleeping form to her lap. She cuddles him close.
He stirs. "Mommy?"
"I'm here, baby. I have you."
~ ANA ~
I wake to a comfortable, all-encompassing warmth. My eyes feel puffy and tired, and it's hard to open them. Somehow I manage slits, and blink to adjust to the brightness. Before me lies my sleeping baby boy. He breathes deeply, his chest against mine. Morning sunbeams shine on his auburn curls... they've darkened a bit since summer. Hmm... the warmth at my back completes our circle. Christian's arm lies draped over both of us. I've never felt so comfortably entrapped.
Teddy stirs, stretching, and nearly takes out my right eye with his fist. I capture the rogue hand and kiss his fingers.
"Morning, sunshine," my voice gravels.
His little face crumples to finish out the stretch, and he brightens. "Bafoom, Mommy."
YES! Progress, finally. We'd been working on potty training all week in Bellevue. "Well, we should get up, then," I tell him. He scoots off the bed, and Christian retracts his arm; he must have heard us. And without warning, everything comes flooding back to me again.
The accident.
The baby.
Our baby.
Oh God...
I run past Teddy into our bathroom and make it just in time to retch into the toilet.
Gentle little hands are at my back. "Mommy?"
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Teddy looks at me with concern. Christian hovers in the doorway.
"You okay?" He mouths, frowning. I nod.
"I'm just sick today, Teddy. Go along and potty for Daddy, okay?" I croak.
"Come on, buddy," Christian holds his hand out. Teddy takes it hesitantly and Christian leads him away, leaving me to rest my forehead against the cool porcelain. I feel his eyes on me for a few more seconds, and then he's gone. How could I forget everyone? My own son, my children... one here and one gone. I haven't mourned her. Not in the way I should, not in the way she deserves. I didn't even bother to see her, where they buried her... what kind of mother does that? I heave again, but my stomach is empty.
A cool cloth presses the back of my neck.
"What can I do?" Christian asks softy.
I shake my head. "Where's Teddy?"
"Carter has him. He's eating breakfast. He instructed me to tell you that he, and I quote, did it all by himself."
The declaration unsettles my funk a bit. "He did?"
"I don't know how you trained him so quickly. Mom said it could take a while."
"I bribed him," I mutter.
"You... what?"
I hold up my hands in surrender, my confession not really fazing me. Nothing really could at this point. "Get mad if you want, but it worked. No more diapers."
Christian presses a glass of ice water into my hands and I sip it slowly. "What sort of bribe are we talking about?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
I cringe. Okay, so maybe he has the power to stir me, but only a little. "Don't be mad."
His face brightens a bit, I'm not sure why. "Ana..." he warns, but he sounds more amused.
I don't have it in me to fight the rising admission. He's going to find out the next time he walks into the kitchen pantry. Or the deep freezer. "I'm sure there's a way to get more..."
Christian goes pale with realization. "Not my cookies. Tell me you didn't."
"Well..." Wow, he's really upset about this. Christian found these delectable hazelnut cookies when we visited Sicily last month, at a small local bakery. I assume he paid the owner handsomely because we returned home with a dozen or so packages and I was instructed to forget they even existed.
He sighs. "The freezer as well?"
"Oh, there might be a box left in there. And don't be mad at Luke for snatching them for us. He was following orders."
"One box? Might be left?" He's still stuck on the remaining quantity.
"Oh, stow your twitchy palm, Grey. Put some of your billions to work and send someone for more if they're so important to you."
I'm in his lap in an instant, his arms tight around me, face buried in my neck. It's a long moment before I feel his tears. "I missed your smart mouth... so very, very much," he whispers.
~ CHRISTIAN ~
I peeled Ana off the floor and got some breakfast into her. She's showered and dressed... she wanted to be alone for that... and went out back with Ted and the dogs. That's been the norm for them of late, spending mornings in the yard. I can't blame her for wanting to keep some kind of routine to ground her in all this. Teddy is blessedly oblivious to such things. He has his mother, and that's all that matters.
I stand looking out over the sound, separated from my wife by only the glass wall, and I dial my brother.
"Morning, bro. I thought we weren't all meeting till eleven?"
"Thats why I'm calling; we'll have to take a rain check, actually."
"Oh? Everything okay?"
"Fine." Sort of. "Ana's memories came back last night. She's just a bit tired and overwhelmed at the moment."
There's a sigh of relief from the other end, and I hear my sister in law in the background. "Yeah babe, it's my brother. Ana got her memory back," I hear him tell her. There's a shuffle, and then I hear Kate's voice.
"Oh, Christian, that's such good news. How is she?"
My ears can scarcely tolerate her shrill at this early hour. "She's all right, just processing. We're going to have to reschedule the outing for another weekend."
"Don't give me that, Grey. How is she?"
I sigh. Leave it to Kavanagh to read between the lines. "She's very emotional. We're just helping her adjust. Teddy has been a good distraction."
I hear a sniff. Girls and their tears. It's unusual for Kate to cry; it reminds me that this entire ordeal has been rough on everyone in Ana's life, not just Teddy and I. "You tell us if there's anything you or she needs, okay?"
"I will. Perhaps Ana will call you later, I'll suggest it to her."
"You do that, Grey. Take care of my girl."
"Always."
I dial Ray next. He doesn't answer, so I text him the news, and that all is well. That's about all the information a man needs.
My parents are next.
"Christian?" my father answers sleepily.
Shit, I forgot about the dinner. Dad and Mom attended some sort of awards function yesterday evening, Mom's first since she's been home, and they must have decided to sleep in. "I'm sorry for waking you. Everything's fine. Ana's memory returned last night, and I thought you'd want to know."
"Oh, son... What a relief to hear. What? Oh... hold on... your mother would like a word."
There's a shuffle, probably my father getting out of bed. "Christian? Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Mom. Ana's memory came back to her last night, all of it." The declaration didn't faze me much the last few times, but it knocks me about the head now. I press my hand over my mouth to hold back a sob.
"Oh, Christian, that's wonderful... darling? What's wrong?"
She can't see me shake my head, I have to remind myself. I gulp back the lump in my throat and swipe at my eyes. "I'm all right, she's all right, everything's fine," I blather. I swear to God, if I don't stop crying I'll... I'll...
"Calm down, Christian. Deep breaths. Now talk to me," she soothes.
"She's just... overwhelmed. And sad... so upset and confused, and..." I gulp again. "It isn't the way I'd imagined at all."
"You thought she'd remember, and you'd live happily ever after," my mother concludes the thought for me.
"Well... it sounds idiotic when you put it that way, but yes."
"Darling, I'm positively elated that she's found herself. You should focus on what she's regained, and just help her through the rest." She pauses. "Would you like me to stop by later and give her a look-over?"
"Would you? I'd appreciate it." I'm surprised and anxious with how comforting the offer is.
"We'll come by around lunchtime, then. Did you need your father or I for anything else?"
Is this a trick question? "Of course, Mom. You're always needed. Both of you are."
I hear her click her tongue. "I'm still upset with you, Christian. But no matter what you've done, I'll always love you. Remember that."
Oh, thank God. "I love you too, Mom."
"We'll see you soon."
I end the call and wander into the kitchen to calm down. Through the glass wall, I see that Teddy has convinced Ana to play tag with him. To see her frolicking in the yard warms my heart. I've gone soft, and I don't fucking care who knows it.
Next, I dial my sister. This one may prove harder than talking to our mother. A male voice answers.
"Mia's phone."
Shit. They've probably recently done... something I'd rather not think about my sister doing. I swallow. "Ethan, it's Christian. Is my sister available?"
"She's just gone to the, uh, kitchen... what's up?"
Now I know for certain they've just fucked. My stomach turns. Down, Grey. They're consenting adults, and they'll be married... eventually.
"Ana's memory returned yesterday evening, and I wanted you both to know."
"Oh, Chris, that's great news. Yeah, Mia, it's your brother... What? Oh, here..."
What is it with this female preoccupation of controlling the damned phone?
"Christian? What's the great news? Are you guys having another baby or something?"
Oh, for fuck sake, Mia. "Nothing like that, sorry to disappoint... if you'd shut up for more than a second I could tell you that Ana got all three years back."
"Ooooo that's so awesome!" she squeaks. "When? What triggered it this time? Tell me everything!"
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Mia, she's having a hard time processing it all. I just wanted to let you know that she remembers. I'm calling all the family."
"Oh, is she okay? Do you need anything? I could make something and bring it over..."
"That's not necessary, Mia, but thank you." I swallow. I need to tell her. But how?
"Oh. I'm glad she's okay, we both are... Can I say hi?" Which in the language of Mia, means: "Can I pester for information until people want to take my life?"
"She's not really in the mood, right now. But I do need to talk to you, later on today or perhaps tomorrow. Do you have an hour you can spare?"
"Sure, is something wrong?"
"I just have something I need to discuss with you. When would be good for you?"
"Anytime. Ethan and I don't have any plans, for once."
Oh, how that fills my head with images I do not need. "All right, this evening, say, six o'clock? Let me say goodbye to Ethan."
"Okay big brother. See you later. Love you bunches. Hey Ethan!"
I have to hold the phone away. Yeah, sis, love you too. That's why what I have to tell you is so hard.
"Chris?"
"Ethan, I need a favor."
~oOo~
The drizzle fits my mood well. I downshift for better traction, directing my thoughts toward getting home safely. Ana will kill me if I get into an accident, especially if it happened because I was driving upset.
My sister hates me. I told her, well... not everything, but enough. Everything to do with Lily, she knows. She always wondered about things between us, and I imagine she feels betrayed on both sides. Lily never told her about what we did, either. I sort of wonder why. Perhaps I'll discover the truth Monday... the circle of damage will close when I meet with Lily.
Mom looked Ana over and deemed her fit. Ana rolled her eyes when I mentioned they were coming for lunch, she knew it was mostly for her. She and Mom talked a while. Dad and I did the same. Teddy climbed all over my father, oblivious as usual to our discussion. I marvel at how well he's able to occupy himself, and my mind wanders.
…
The soft knock at the threshold to my office startled me.
"Gamma!" Teddy exclaims, dropping his cars and running to my mother. I rise automatically.
"Mother," I nod.
"Christian," she nods back, swinging her grandson into her arms. She's recovered from her illness quite well, it seems. "Have a minute?"
"Of course," Anything for you, Mom. I wish you knew that. I gesture to the seating area. She plops down with Ted in her lap, and Ted scrambles to get back to his cars. She releases him with a loving swat on the behind.
"How was your talk with Ana?"
Mom pats the seat next to her. I freeze momentarily. Is this where forgiveness begins? I round the sofa and sink carefully next to her, as though unsettling her cushion may trigger the bomb.
"Ana is going to be fine. She's all kinds of upset, and understandably so. It's been a rough few months for her, and much more than she should have had to handle. I think she should talk to someone."
"She can talk to me," I say quietly.
"Of course she can. And she will... but I meant a professional, Christian. Someone familiar in coping with the loss of a child. You both ought to go."
"Of course, Mother. I'll see to it straight away." My posture is like that of a child in the midst of a lecture for some wrongdoing. One leg tucked behind the other, hands folded in my lap, eyes down. Not quite submissive, but remorseful. I lean sideways into the back of the couch.
"Are we speaking?" I tentatively ask.
She raises an eyebrow. "Aren't we speaking now?"
I shift a bit. "That's not what I meant." My eyes fly to Teddy. I'm not sure we should have this conversation with him present, but he's migrated his collection under my desk and out of obvious earshot. He wouldn't understand the context anyway, and so I vow to keep my tone quiet.
When my mother speaks again, her voice is low, but quivering. "I'm still angry with you, Christian. So blown away, I hardly know what to say to you."
I wish I knew specifically which part hurt her the most, so that I may address her concerns. It's a go-to business tactic, but the only means I have that feels even remotely comfortable in this grandly uncomfortable conversation. "I'm sorry, Mother. Sorrier than you can imagine. At the heart of the matter, I'm most devastated that any of this touched Anastasia. I wish I knew what to say to you, to assure you that I'm not the person I once was. All those things, those mistakes... they're part of my past. A past I'm not proud of." My hand lifts of its own will, an attempt I realize meant to reach out, but I don't know if she'll recoil from my touch. It wouldn't surprise me, and I'd deserve it. "I imagine you're beyond ashamed of me."
Mom states at me, perhaps through me. She shakes her head. "Do you even understand at all?"
I shrug. "I'm not sure. Some, perhaps. I never wanted you to know that side of me, Mom. I was ashamed, even then, of what you'd think of my lifestyle. It gave me an outlet, a sense of control over my life. I can explain any part of it to you, should you desire that. But it was something I needed; I still believe that, to this day. I'd be in a very dark place at present had I not chosen to pursue it as long as I did."
My mother shakes her head again. "And what of your relationship with Lily? Was she a part of that?"
"No, no... never," I explain quickly. "Lily was... a mistake, made in haste. I regretted it then, and certainly now, but for different reasons. I didn't let you know the real me back then. You wouldn't have wanted to know that... person." I stop myself from using another descriptive word... monster. There are enough proverbial worms sliming across the space-time continuum at the moment. "I was constantly angry. At everyone, you saw that every day while I was a teenager."
Mom shudders. She's thinking about what she feels she allowed to happen. It kills me that she still blames herself. She's known about that almost as long as Ana has been a part of our lives, and when she thought she knew everything, there was still more. More poison leaching out, and touching everyone around me. I hate that it now touches the purest force in my life.
My voice remains even. "After... her... I didn't endeavor to use anyone, but, well... it was a far better alternative to choosing random targets. I still had so much unfocused anger within me. Those I liaised with were consenting adults, familiar and comfortable with the methods. I'm sure Dad explained that. No one was unwilling. Not even Lily. And I didn't bring her into all that... it was just once. It was a mistake, and it was before I'd taken the lifestyle as my own. I regret avoiding her afterward, but it was the only way I knew to discourage her from pursuing me again. I didn't do it to hurt her directly, or to ignore her condition... I simply didn't know."
Candid chats between my mother and I are few and far between, but when they occur, the opposite of what I envision usually happens: my mouth opens, and words fall out. She listens. I'm berated for something, I apologize, and she tells me how much she loves me. This time, I see that last part fluttering away like a tissue in a windstorm. I wait for her reaction. And wait.
And wait.
"I know I've disappointed you terribly," I continue. "Perhaps beyond a point of no return... but please, I beg you not to see Anastasia in any but the purest light, despite my past choices and behavior."
My mother continues to stare at me. After a moment she shakes her head. "Oh, Christian, what will it take to make you understand? If one day, heaven forbid... T-E-D-D-Y..." she spells, and we both look in his direction. He's still playing obliviously by the floor to ceiling window. "If he were to engage in something so... forbidden," she continues, "and you were to find out about it much, much later, especially after all the laundry had supposedly been long since aired..."
"Yes, Mom. I have thought about it that way. It's been at the forefront of my mind so many times since I became a father. I'm going to do everything I can to ensure that he knows he can always come to us. If I'm any indication, I realize that it may not work, and there may be things he'll keep to himself. But I'm going to try my hardest. As you did, for me." The weight of my words rests heavily over me, and I lower my head to my hands. "I can only hope to be half as good a parent to him as you've been to the three of us."
Thin, gentle fingers run through my shaggy locks. I know I need a cut, badly. My regular stylist has been out of commission. I lift my head, and my mother's eyes have softened. Her touch continues, stroking my scalp. I want to close my eyes at the contact, but I couldn't stand to break her gaze. I fear her next words. I also fear what further damage I could cause what's left of our relationship by speaking again.
"I'm overwhelmed by it all. And hurt. And so angry, though not only at you."
"Please don't be mad at Ana," I beg.
"Christian, for heaven's sake. I'm not upset with Ana. I'm upset for Ana. I find it ridiculous that you'd suggest I could harbor any ill will toward the woman who quite literally saved my son from a lifetime in the darkness." She goes quiet again, and her fingers drop to her lap.
I swallow. "I'm no longer your victory dance."
My mother then does something she's never done to me before. She pulls back and swats me on the shoulder... hard. Her face is incredulous. "Christian Grey, have you not learned anything? Everything you chose to reveal to us, all those things you'd kept private so long out of fear of what we'd think... It shows how far you've come, to trust us to do right by you. It was the very first thing I'd hoped I'd earn from you, your trust. And it's taken longer than all the other hopes and dreams I've had for you, but aside from my children's love, it's what I've wanted most. It's the holy grail of Christian Trevelyan Grey. And I finally have that. You're more my victory dance now than you ever were."
~oOo~
I find Ana and Kate surrounded by junk food in the home theater. As I lean over the back of the loveseat to press a kiss to the top of her head, I inhale deeply. Her hair smells so good... Like freshly cut jasmine petals. It soothes my weary soul. Ana's hand reaches up to cup my cheek, and I hold it there for a moment, pressing a kiss to her palm before releasing her.
"How is Girl's Night?" I ask.
I cashed in Kate's favor earlier than expected, and of course she came running when I said I had something to take care of, and didn't want to leave Ana on her own. Well, she's never truly on her own, but it's not like she really wants to spend quality time with the staff, and Ted's just not one for conversation unless it revolves around fictional characters or my coveted hazelnut cookies. I'm still a tad steamy about that one.
Kate throws me a look of one part hostility and at least seven parts sympathy. That's the usual ratio these days. My odds are looking up. I should have asked instead how the Kavanagh Inquisition was progressing... as that's what this likely is... which might have elicited a feistier response.
"Much needed," Ana answers. "Might we have a few more minutes?"
There's my cue to get the hell out. "Of course, baby. Teddy asleep?"
"He's probably milking another story out of Ina."
"I'll go check. Take your time, I'll be in the gym." I kiss her head again as I leave.
As expected, my son is on his fourth story, noting the stack of books discarded on the side table. Carter does all the voices to near perfection, probably part of the allure for his thirty-month-old mind. I observe for a moment and back out of the doorway unnoticed only by Teddy.
I still have the need to hit something, so the workout of choice is kickboxing. I don some athletic shorts and set up the heavy bag. No gloves tonight. I need to feel this.
Knuckles and shins bruised and abraded but not yet bleeding, I deem my body sufficiently punished and mind marginally settled, or at least, within acceptable parameters for sleep. I slip into the downstairs shower, taking longer than usual, turning the temperature down a notch at a time. Examining my hands, I chide myself for going so far. These are going to hurt tomorrow. I smear cream over my knuckles and wrap them lightly in gauze.
I find Ana asleep in our bed. I drop my towel and pull on boxers, and then slip under the sheets behind her, drawing her gently to my chest. She flinches.
"Just me, baby," I whisper.
"Your hands," she murmurs sleepily, her voice filled with concern.
"I'm all right," I adjust so the gauze no longer makes contact with her skin. Her hands find mine in the darkness, lightly brushing the loose fabric. "What happened?"
"Disagreement with the heavy bag," I say, pressing my lips to her hair. "Don't worry, I won."
"Was it that bad?"
I sigh. She knows only part of the reason I went so far. It's going to take some getting used to; having her know me so well again. "About what I expected. Mia feels betrayed, and so angry. I expected as much. I imagine we won't speak for a while. My sister can outlast our mother in administering the silent treatment." Ana stiffens in my arms.
"What?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"Ana?" I prod. When she doesn't answer, I turn her around in my arms. "What is it, baby?"
"It's not really anything, Christian."
"Not really anything is still something, Anastasia. Out with it." I kiss the tip of her precious little nose to offset the use of her full name. I'm serious, but no longer angry. For now.
She shrugs against my bandaged hands, and I resist the urge to wince. "Are you and Grace okay?"
Oh, I see… she's caught onto my mother's ways. "We're getting there. Our talk this afternoon was a first step. Given time we'll take another, but we'll never get back to the way things were. She'll never unlearn what she now knows of me. And there may be some things she'll never quite trust me with again" I sigh. "I suppose I can live with that, so long as she still loves me."
Ana snuggles into my chest. "Grace will always love you, Christian," she tells me softly.
I chuckle. "I know, baby. I think I finally understand. I was just pointing out that I can handle whatever else changes, so long as that remains constant. I can't imagine a better mother in this world, except of course for you."
She sighs. "Don't say that."
"Why not? It's the honest truth."
"You're going to make me cry. I'm so tired of crying."
Shit. Three years of marriage, several before that spent intimately with women, and much of my childhood spent with Doctor Mom and a younger sister... and I still don't get why women cry all the fucking time. But this time, I think I know. She still blames herself in some part for what happened to Phoebe, and then some for her limited reaction to her memory of our daughter over the last few months. I need to set the record straight for her; it's the very least she deserves.
"Ana, I know what it's like to feel inadequate. I can also understand why you might feel that way right now, but I want you to know that no one has ever, ever believed the things you're thinking of yourself. You're every kind of mother you should be. You're not at fault for anything that's happened, though I know exactly how it tears at your soul. It does the same to mine every day. It's so hard to focus all that anger, all that pain... when there's nowhere for it to go. I know how that feels." I stroke her hair. The silent sobs come, making her shoulders tremble. "She's still a part of you. She'll always be a part of our family. We won't forget her. She wouldn't blame you. She knew you loved her. I want to believe she knew I loved her as well. You did nothing to cause this, Ana. Please, I beg you not to blame yourself."
Ana squirms, her face buried in my chest, and I feel the wetness there. I want to give her a reprieve, to stop all this and just soothe her, to gloss over the pain and deal with it another day but she has to know the truth, and I'm not done telling it to her. "You go ahead and feel however it is you need to feel about everything that's happened, and know that I'm right here beside you, ready to hear whatever you need to say, to reassure you, or just to hold you. It's going to be hard..." I close my eyes on the word, the crack of my voice lending emphasis. "But we're going to make it through. Together."
I hold her silently for a while, I'm not sure how long, but until she calms a bit, before I begin again. "I've made weekly appointments for you and I, separately and together, with John, starting Monday evening. Just know that I'm here with you, that our families are behind you wholeheartedly, and that you're dearly loved." I press a kiss to her forehead. "You're the best mother in the world. Teddy as much as told me every day while you slept. I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it. And then I'm going to tell you some more."
Her lips capture mine suddenly, catching me off guard. She pushes me onto my back and slides on top of me. It's the very last thing I expected her to do after a conversation like that... but fuck, is it hot.
"I want you, Mr. Grey," she whispers. "I want to get lost with you."
Oh. Fucking. My. "I'm yours, Mrs. Grey. Always."
