A/N: Please note, that in this chapter there is a part that is narration and not from anyone's POV.
Also, following the lead of another great writer here, I have decided to bank items that are in this story via pinterest. If you would like to see some of the items, it's at pinterest killasshandra/another-shade-of-grey/ ((PLEASE be sure to remove the spaces between the letters in the link. FanFiction doesn't like linking, so they are trying to make sure that we can't post links regularly. That is why we add the spaces.))
And, a final note...: Writing about headaches is extremely hard to do, especially if you have one at the time.
Now, back to the story :) Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read my story.
"Gideon Cross? You are leaving... for Gideon Cross?"
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Okay. Remain calm. You can deal with this. Cool and confident. Just stay cool and confident. "And how long were you listening at my door?"
"How long have you been keeping this... 'relationship'... a secret?" Christian steps two steps back, giving me room to exit my office which is a good thing. I would never allow him to corner me. I close my office door behind me as I enter back into the great room. I spot the lurking shadows of Taylor and Stevenson just down the hallway, the bastards are trying to hide and spy in the shadows.
"Stevenson, get the plane ready. Round trip. New York City." Stevenson peeks his head around the corner, and sees I knew exactly where he was. He doesn't say a word, but nods and then leaves to make the arrangements..
"Shana, answer me," Christian growls.
The small pain in my head is growing to a large one rather quickly. I groan inwardly knowing I couldn't argue with him, or anyone if this becomes a full blown migraine. "What? What do you want to know?" I asked quietly, turning back to him. His body language is unusual and I see he is fighting... something.
"What is he? To you?" He asks in a gruff, firm voice. I sighed and go to the kitchen, opening the cupboard the medications are kept in. I grab the bottle of meds, pop the top, toss two into my hand and as I close the cap, Christian hands me a glass of milk. "Migraine," he asks softly. I nod as I pop the pills and drink the cool milk.
"I know you two don't get along, but... a few years ago, there was this project, and... well, to be honest, I would have made you proud. We were both vying for the contract. Every attempt I tried to do, he would counter it, and I just knew I wasn't going to win. That was when I used my married name for the first time. I went after him and every thing he tried to do, I attacked in return. Like... like, how did he put it? A 'vicious pit bull bitch in heat'." Christian smiled at that and then directed me to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar. He stood behind me and his finger tips started to lightly circle my temples. "Then, one night, he called me, drunk as all hell, and demanded to see me."
"And you told him to fuck off," Christian said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. I slowly shook my head, which inflamed the headache.
"No. I... invited him up to my room," I said in a small whisper.
"Why the fuck would you do that?" Christian didn't yell, but he still had a force behind his voice.
"Because, one, he was drunk as hell. Two, he was drunk as hell and I am a sexy chick. And if this sexy chick can't get a drunk Gideon Cross to... agree to my terms on a business deal, then I might as well give up and take lessons from Mia." Christian snorted at that and I had to smile. "Chrissy, can you turn the lights down?"
"Yes," he said, his voice softer now. Where are your sunglasses?" I shrugged, my head going down to the bar counter. The cool granite felt so good on my forehead.
"Here they are, Mr. Grey," Stevenson said, as he returned to the room. "The plane will be waiting, Ma'am... If you still need it." Christian hands me my darker sunglasses, and I put them on, but it doesn't matter. A lot of the time I spend with migraines I have to wear sunglasses so my eyes don't strain trying to hide out to of the sun, and it does seem to reduce the pain quicker then normal The pain is so strong now I don't want to open my eyes.
"She's not going," Christian says in a whisper meant only for Stevenson.
"May I remind you that my damned migraines heighten sound waves," I said in a low growl.
"You can't, not like this. You know you will only get sicker. Besides, it's only Cross. Let the fucker rot."
My head slowly raised up from the granite, the stone no longer a comfort. Christian was stepping back towards me to continue administering to my temples, but he stopped when I lowered my sunglasses to stare at him. His eyes watched me warily as I slid off the bar stool.
"Did you just say, 'Let the fucker rot'?" Christian stared at me. I took a step closer to him. "Did you just say 'Let the fucker rot'? Answer me!"
"Sha, your head-"
"The pain is in my head, not yours. Answer me!"
"Yeah. Yeah I said it. I said to let the fucker rot. He's a bastard and a asshole who tries at every turn to take from me, and you god-damn know it. Look! He's even got you on his side now!"
"Taylor!" I holler, and hear his answer within seconds. "Taylor, get Christian out of my house. And then, tomorrow, make sure Claude Bastille has a opening. Christian and I seem to have a issue to work out."
"Are you fucking nuts? We don't do that any more. I'll kick your ass, and then..."
"We don't do it anymore cause we haven't had a need to and I haven't been around. You come into my house, jump my shit over who I can have as a friend and who I can't, dictate whether or not I will go to NYC or not to MY staff, about MY plane, from MY apartment? And I am fucking nuts?" I step closer to him, and see Taylor and Stevenson each take a step closer to us. "You better go home, and get down on your knees before you go to bed, and thank the gods that my god damn headache prevented me from taking you down here and now."
"You wouldn't have dared," Christian mutters, growlingly.
Taylor approaches him, placing a hand on his elbow, not to restrain, just to let him know he is there. "Mr. Grey... It would be unwise to stay..." Taylor looked at me, and Christian's eyes followed Taylor's. "You would hate yourself if her headache became worse because of something you may say. Or how she may react further." Christian ground his teeth, continuing to stare at me, but then nodded.
I stood there, in the middle of the great room, watching my brother, and my friend leave my home. As soon as the door closed behind them, Stevenseon ran to catch me as I fell.
"Shana," he said, grumbling as he picked me up and carried me to the couch, only a few feet further then where I had collapsed at. "Have you lost your mind?"
I exhaled slowly, my eyes closed and my teeth clenched in pain. "I wish," I murmur through my teeth. "I don't think the pain would be as bad if I had."
Doug Stevenson laughed at that, holding my hand, which was clenched tightly from the pain. "It's a bad one," he said, frowning. I gave him one small, slow nod of me head.
"Doug... I need your help." He nodded, not letting my hand go. "I need to get to New York."
"Shana, flying and migraines..."
"I know. I'll take the codeine. It will help." I heard him mutter something, but I wasn't finished. "I need... one more thing. I will need you to convince Gideon to come back here with us."
Stevenson helped me into the car, buckling me in making sure I was safely restrained. Not like I could go far anyways. Not with this headache. He drove as quickly and as quietly as he could, to the airport, making no sharp turns, slowing down over a longer then normal distance at stop signs and traffic lights so that my body didn't move like it would have at a quick halt. We arrived at the airport, and he drove us over to the private fields where my jet was waiting. Once there, Stevenson helped me climb out of the car after releasing the fasteners I was having a hard time unbuckling. He guided me up the stairs into the plane and slowly lowered me into a nearby seat. He set the medication bottle in front of me, as well as a small glass of milk before walking over to the pilot. I tried to not pay them attention, but I heard the conversation anyways.
"We need to wait at least ten minutes after she has taken the meds before you can take off."
"She really shouldn't be flying like this," the pilot mumbled. "And, round trip? Tonight? All right. I'll file the flight plan. Let me know if I have to make a emergency stop."
"I will." I heard him approach, but I was in too much pain to open my eyes to watch him. "Stevenson here," he said. He must have been his phone, I thought. "We're on the plane. Jason, I- Hello Mr. Grey. No sir. She insisted. Sir, I don't think that would be wise- No, sir. I understand." He walked away from me, and just as I felt the dizziness of the codeine wrap around me, I opened my eyes long enough to see Stevenson talk to the pilot again.
I awoke with a metallic taste in my mouth, and too much saliva. I sat up, but my head thudded me back, and my stomach rolled. I bit down on my lip and struggled to stand. I felt hands on me and all I wanted was to get to the bathroom fast. I barely made it there before my body decided to empty my stomach.
Kind hands held me up and pulled my hair out of my face, keeping it away so that I couldn't get sick on it. He handed my a glass of water, which I used to rinse my mouth with before spitting it out into the commode as well. I wavered on my feet, but managed to wash my hands, and leave the bathroom on my own. That was as far as I got before I was picked up and carried to the bed in the back of the plane.
I felt the softness of the sheets on my skin as I was gently placed down on the edge of the bed. My headache was rampaging through me that I was unaware anyone was talking to me, and I didn't notice and a piece of toast being held out for me. Shortly after I noticed the toast, he placed in my hands then raised my hand to my mouth so I could eat the toast. This part was repeated until it was half gone and I really couldn't eat anymore. If Christian were here, he would have thrown a fit, for the rest of the toast going to waste, and for the fact that I really haven't eaten anything anyways.
I looked down in my hand, and saw two pills. I tried to think of where they came from, but instead I watched as another hand came and raised my hand to my mouth, putting the two pills into my mouth, where they were supposed to go. I felt a glass at my lips, and drank the thicker liquid, knowing it was probably milk again.
I don't remember laying down on the bed, but I felt kind arms wrap around me, and words being whispered into my hair before I succumbed to the migraine.
As soon as she was finally asleep, Christian slowly removed himself from the bed, pulled the blanket up over her, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He looked around the cabin, and swallowing a scowl, moved to sit at the table across from Gideon Cross.
"She asleep," he asked quietly. Christian nodded, looking over to the flight attendant and nodding. She quickly brought over a glass of brandy, which he drank slowly, his eyes not leaving Gideon, who also was staring at him in return.
"Look, we... have to come to a agreement," Christian said, his voice rough, his body taut as if physically restraining himself. Gideon nodded in agreement. "She'll kill herself trying to help people before she puts herself first. And... I only just found out about you and her-"
"We are friends," Gideon said, interrupting Christian. Christian glared at him, grinding his teeth at being interrupted.
"Like I said, before I was interrupted, I only just found out about you and her being friends. Knowing our business dealings, I understand why she has kept it secret." Christian took another sip of his brandy. He looked out the window of the plane, his thoughts still trying to settle down in his mind. "We will have to get along while around her."
"Agreed. A truce then? While I am in Seattle?" Gideon asked, watching him. Christian nodded, extending a hand. Gideon looked at the hand a moment, and shook it in a gentleman's agreement. Christian's fingers wrapped tighter, and pulled Gideon closer.
"You hurt her, I will kill you," Christian said in a slow, cool voice.
"If I hurt her," Gideon responded in the same cool, slow voice. "I'll let you kill me."
Both men released their hands and slowly sat back, each one's gaze going back out to the windows as they each tried to hide how much pain they were both in from that handshake.
Taylor had sat in the corner, a game of chess sitting in between him and Stevenson. Both had watched the exchange. He looked at Stevenson, who in turn looked over to where Angus, Mr. Cross' bodyguard, sat. Angus raised a eyebrow, and a gave a small shrug. Stevenson and Taylor each nodded in return, wondering how this will now change their worlds.
