Chapter 15

Anastasia

I can't believe I'm here, sitting on the cold hard seat in the mostly empty outdoor stadium. A police officer directed me to this section, Christian's guests belong in these bleachers. We're spread out, following extreme social distancing. No one's close to me.

I wait for something to happen. A buzzer or announcement. A view of Christian. Is that him standing on the podium within the safety net? I think so. My stomach lurches, as I look at him from afar. Alone, holding a controller, he waits. The view's better on the screens on either side of the stadium.

Opening the event brochure, the rules state each drone starts out with three points. Every time a drone falls to the ground, it loses a point. The first to zero points loses. Flipping to the back, it appears there's a national drone battle association. Weird.

Scanning the arena, there are so many camera crews. The camera operators and reporters wear faces masks. But still. Why do they need so many? Oh…women. Two eligible hot men battling using the latest technology, claiming it's all for charities. Now, it makes sense. They'll get the views.

There's a traffic light in the middle of the field. I wrap my arms around my chest as I watch the light go from red to yellow to green. Something's happening. I twist my head to the right when I hear an announcement blare from the speakers.

"…the first Honor Drone Duel for Charity. All proceeds from online betting and advertisement sales go directly to foster care programs located in Seattle and Detroit. Let's begin, as is historic tradition, with the Seconds."

Looking up at the big screens, a Hispanic man and a Black man unzip the safety netting. They walk into the arena, wearing face masks. My heart thuds, as I lean into the seat. Why is Christian putting himself through this charade? All I see is his back.

The camera zooms in on the two "seconds." They stand six feet apart in the middle of the field and stare at each other. I shiver, waiting. I can't imagine what it was like when people had real duels. The blood. The gore. This is better than duels in the past.

The Black man crosses his hands in an X position in front of his chest. The Hispanic man follows suit. They look like they're refusing communion at a Catholic church. It's unsettling. An unspoken signal.

"No apologies will be given at this time," the announcer states. "The Seconds have given the signal to begin drone combat. At the sound of the pistol, begin."

The camera focuses on Christian's face which is scrunched up, scowling. Christian's mad. Or hiding his nerves. Maybe both. I hope he wins. I'm not sure why...this all seems pointless. But I clasp my hands together and send a prayer his way.

"POOOMB," blasts in the air.

I jump in my seat, as the two drones soar into the netted arena. My eyes follow the two drones, entranced. My heart beats faster. It's clear now. I'm invested in this outcome. I must not be over the firing. The new job that never got to start. The way Jack's claim impacted me. I can't stay silent anymore.

"Go, Christian," I shout, standing up.

My head swings back and forth to the big screens. Both men are swaying joy sticks in total focus. The drones. There's a heavy duty black one full of purple neon lights and another one that's black but covered in a cage. They're chasing each other.

The heavier drone bangs into the caged drone. I gasp. I need to figure out which machine I'm rooting for.

"PLOOOONK," fills the speakers. The drones make contact. Nothing breaks. They fly away from each other into separate areas of the netted arena. Heavy duty for sure.

Is there something on the caged drone? Yes, a swinging piece, like a mini-wrecking ball. Sneaky. It flies towards the purple lighted drone from a diagonal. Whoa…it slams into the heavier drone using such force that the heavier drone falls to the ground in a clanging sound.

"BEEEPPP," a mechanical buzzer goes off.

Where's the score? Oh…the scoreboard. I need to go to more sporting events. Next to Jack's name is the number 2. Next to Christian's is 3. Got it. Christian is controlling the caged drone.

I'm still standing. My body's stiff. They do a camera close up of the two battling men. They're both sweating. A real match rather than a strange video game. Both drones go back to their starting position near the two podiums. Another round.

"BEEEEPP," a mechanical buzzer goes off again.

The two drones fly in the air. Faster this time. How many miles an hour can drones go? Christian's eyebrows are knitted. There are visible lines in his face. He's moving the joysticks, fast. I find his drone and watch him slam into Jack's, which tumbles again on the ground.

"BEEEEP," the mechanical buzzer goes off.

Jack's down to 1-point left. Then Christian can put this behind him…and I…well, I guess I move on. I put on a poignant smile, thinking Christian's going to win this. It's not enough to save our relationship. But, it's a good note to end on. I want the best for him. I can probably leave now…it looks like a clear victory.

Both drones go back to their starting position again. It's time to leave. Then suddenly, Jack's second runs across the field towards the announcer's stand. He speaks to the announcer through the netting. Too bad I can't read lips.

My heart beats faster. They shouldn't drag this out…Christian is not as strong as he appears. They shouldn't…

"There's been an accusation of not fair play due to the cage," the announcer says. His masculine voice booming throughout the stadium. "The rules have been followed. There was no rule against a defensive drone design. But we will pause, allowing for a rebuttal."

The camera zooms up on Christian's face, who rolls his eyes. His disdain for Jack clearly visible on the big stadium screen. A beautiful Hispanic reporter strides up to him, putting a microphone in his face.

"You can't handle it Jack. That I've made different choices and had different results. Fine. We'll make it equal," Christian says, speaking into the microphone.

He pulls a pair of plyers out of his pocket and cuts the cage down, leaving his drone naked. It's exposed to the elements. "As you wish Jack, I'll handicap myself to get to your level. This time we're starting from the very top. That's my condition."

"Fine," Jack says. His face concentrated and glistening, now dominates the big screen.

"Nooooooo," I cry out, drawing the attention of two guards sitting several chairs down from me. "I'm…I'm okay." I say to them, forcing myself to sit down.

I bite my lip, my whole body shaking. Christian's drone stands no chance without the cage. Jack's drone looks bigger. Heavier. Christian's got a plan, right? He needs to move on from this…. not drag this thing out. Masochist.

The two drones start rising to the top of the tall outdoor netting, each on one side. How tall is that thing? At least 60 feet, like the nets used in of those restaurants that double as golf ranges.

"BEEEEPPP," the buzzer goes. And both drones fly into each other from the very top. Their collision is faster this time. More forceful.

"Shit!" I scream, standing up again. Both drones fall to the ground from the top of the netted arena. There's no way the machines are going to be okay after that type of fall.

The big screens show their faces. Jack rips his facemask off. He's enraged. Christian doesn't seem to care. It's like he expected it. Did he?

The two men walk towards the center of the field, where the drones fell. Jack and Christian pick up their respective drones as the camera zooms in. The machines are intact. No broken pieces. How is that possible? An inner voice tells me, think of Christian, the outside view isn't the inside view. The internal components…they might not work. Too much trauma.

"It appears both drones are no longer functional," the announcer says, his voice softer. "The competitors will discuss their decision of how to proceed."

Christian waves off the cameramen, gesturing for them to leave as he and Jack talk. A private chat with his enemy. Why? I lean forward in my seat, sitting on my hands.

The two men nod at each other. Then they walk towards the announcers stand, staying a few feet apart. That's all the close-up footage the camera gets of their discussion. An agreement must have been made. Christian needs to move on.

I turn to face the other side of the bleachers, I'm not the only one sitting on pins and needles. There two other women here who look nervous. I wonder if those could be his family members.

"The competitors have agreed to a draw," the announcers states, getting my attention. "I will read the terms of the agreement now."

The big screen flashes Christian who's running his hands through his hair. He's preparing for something. A big speech. An apology. Another battle?

"Jack Hyde and Filo Ramirez will each receive $200,000 from Christian Grey. The funds will be designated to their descendants in two educational trusts."

A short, plump woman in the stands, screams, "OH MA GOD!" His former foster sister. I can see Filo's smile from the other side of the bleachers. Wow. Maybe some good will come out of this thing after all.

"Jack Hyde will give a formal apology to Christian Grey, outlining his false claims on his reputation."

Good. That was his goal. This should all be over now.

"Christian Grey will be given 5 minutes of airtime to restore his honor and communicate his message."

I gulp. A tiny voice tells me. I better stay for this.

"Mrs. Ramirez, please enter the stadium and receive your check with Mr. Hyde."

The beaming woman climbs down the concrete steps. She walks toward the center of the arena, where she's guided by several masked guards. The camera zooms into her face. Triumphant. The money will be life changing for her kids. I get tingles all over. It's magic, like watching someone win the lottery.

The guards direct her to the center of the field. Christian, Jack, and Filo all stand six feet apart. Someone dressed in protective gear hands out the two checks and gives Jack a microphone. My breathe hitches. This too shall pass. The false claim. The hurt. It all ends now.

"I want to apologize for my earlier comments regarding my foster sibling Christian Grey. I falsely accused him of racism. I take my words back. We were children facing a tough situation. I was jealous he was adopted. We both suffered," Jack says, his voice strong and clear, like a Baptist preacher's voice.

Tears start falling in my eyes as Jack pauses, letting his words sink in. He's in pain too. An orphan, who wanted a better life. He wanted the life Christian got.

"I will no longer blame Christian for my suffering. I will address true inequality, starting with our old neighborhood. Detroit. I'm coming back. I'm going to help. I'm going to adopt a son. Someone there who's like me. And Christian, your money's going to help change his life."

The camera zooms in and there are tears in Filo's eyes. Christian's face is puffy, like he's restraining himself. The twenty guests in the mostly empty bleachers erupt in cheers. I stand up joining the spread-out group, clapping my hands as I wipe away tears.

The protective gear man has another microphone. This time he gives it to Christian.

Christian tears off his face mask and moves further away from Filo and Jack. Now he's facing them. I've got a feeling at the pit of my stomach. This isn't about TV anymore or controlling the narrative. It's deeper.

What he's about to say, it's for all of them. Their shared past. And maybe, it's also for me. To know he's dealing with his trauma. He's handling his past. His own way.

I hold my breath as it dawns on me. Christian's actions are separate from me, which means he doesn't need my approval. He doesn't have to handle it the way I would handle it. If this, this publicized event is what it takes for him to heal – that's enough.

º-º-º-º-º

Christian

Gripping the handle of the microphone, Christian clears his throat. It's time to stop glossing over his past. He takes another deep breath. No more lying.

"Excuse me. Would someone bring me my drone?" Christian says, speaking into the microphone.

Arthur grabs it from the podium and heads in Christian's direction. He hands the machine the him which no longer lights up.

"Thanks," Christian says to Arthur. He waits for the cameras to close in on the drone before he starts speaking. "This quadcopter. Check out its airframe. It's indestructible."

Christian points towards the sky. "It fell from 70 feet and there are no broken pieces. On the outside."

He pauses, feeling his heart beat faster as Filo's eyes fill with tears. She must know what's coming. Christian manhandles the drone, flipping it over with one hand.

"But on the inside. It's another story. The motors are broken. The electric speed controller and flight controller are not functioning anymore."

Filo wipes her eyes and a single tear streams down Jack's face. The bad memories of their foster home. The loneliness. The neglect. Christian takes a deep breath and continues, keeping his emotions in check.

"Today's drone battle was sparked by an accusation on social media. Jack's words provoked me because I have trouble with control."

There's a hush in the stadium. The cameraman step closer to Christian, ignoring the distancing rules. Christian clears his throat again. His breathing heavy.

"On the outside, I'm like the drone's airframe, indestructible. I can handle falls and pressure. But on the inside. I'm a recovering trauma victim."

A pressure releases in Christian. There's a lightness, that wasn't there before. An untightening. This leads Christian's voice to deepen, giving it a noticeable strength.

"Jack's public accusation meant I could no longer hide my past trauma. The foster system, the scars left from my birth mother, the shame, the later abuse from a neighbor. I could no longer deny what was inside…was still broken."

Another cameraman walks towards him, getting another angle of Christian's speech. Shutting his eyes, Christian takes another breath. "A woman I love and want in my life, has recently inspired me to heal what's inside."

He drops his microphone a little as his heart pounds. "Because of her, I'm choosing to deal with the trauma from my past life. I'm announcing a three-month sabbatical from work. I'm planning to start speaking about my past. No longer hiding from it."

Christian drops his drone to the ground. It plops onto the grass making a clanging sound, still intact. His hand now across his heart, he makes eye contact with Jack, whose eyes are blood shot. "Thank you for helping push me. Your future adopted son. Please introduce him to me."

He then swings his head from side to side, making deep eye contact with both cameras. "For all those suffering, know you're not alone. After my sabbatical, I plan to create a foundation for childhood trauma victims. For those who haven't dealt with past abuse. Those with internal scars. You're not alone."

Christian smiles and hands the microphone to the cameraman. He walks over to Filo and Jack. They hug, forgetting the rules.

The hiding. It's over. It's time to make peace with their past.

º-º-º-º-º

Anastasia

I'm standing in the bleachers, shaking as Christian embraces Jack in a bear hug. A woman I love. A sabbatical. I'm trembling. Speechless. Shocked. I don't know what to do.

I…I need to help. Make things right with him. In private. My shaking hands dial Taylor's number. After the first ring, Taylor picks up.

"Ana," Taylor says, there's cheering in the background. He must be here now.

"Taylor, would you open up the GEH facility for me. I…I need to tell Christian something there in private. Tonight. I think his office at GEH is the best place."

Taylor doesn't respond right away. The line stays silent. Christian's his boss after all.

I'm no longer an employee of GEH. But no other place seems right. "Please," I whisper into the phone. I need to make things right.

"Okay," Taylor says, gruffly. "Brandon will open it up for you. Most of headquarters is boarded. Key in 2006 in the parking garage and steer clear of the main elevators."

"Thanks," I say, brainstorming a plan. "But I'd like to surprise Christian. Could you manage that?"

"No problem, I'll coordinate it with Brandon," Taylor says, hanging up.

I rush down the stairs of the bleachers, heading towards the exit door. I find my car and quickly start it, heading toward GEH's headquarters. As I drive away from the stadium, my heart's pumping, and I almost run through a red light. Slow down.

My arms tingle as I rest my hands on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to change. There will be others…others whose lives are changed because of Christian's confession. And, how is he possibly going to avoid working for three months?

As I the light changes to green, an inner voice tells me, he'll do it with my help.

º-º-º-º-º

Christian

Christian sits in the passenger seat of his SUV as Taylor pulls up in front of boarded up GEH headquarters. An awareness stirs inside Christian. This is unusual. Not the parking garage.

"The open entrance is close to the parking garage. Why are we parking on the street? If the plumbing issue is dire, we can call another contractor," Christian says, to his head of security.

"You need some fresh air. I thought you would want to walk. Should I go to the parking garage?" Taylor says, his face expressionless, as he parallel parks in the front of the building.

"No, this is fine." Just suspicious. When his sabbatical starts, none of this will be his problem. Niall. He needs to tell him about his temporary CEO appointment. And Ros. She needs a bonus to handle the financials alone the next few months. And the lawyers, they'll have to finish up cleaning up the mess Russell made from the security breach.

Taylor walks around the building towards a hidden emergency exit.

Christian follows him, lost in his thoughts. Not working for 3 months. No. Just a different type of work. Healing. What about Ana? She'll see the broadcast.

His heart beats faster. Ana will not be the only one with questions. The neighbor abuse. His family heard that. He'll have to tell them about Elena. Her seduction. Jason said his healing process meant no more self-censoring. A survivor. Not a victim.

Taylor opens the emergency exit, as they trample over some overgrown bushes. They start climbing to the 20th floor in silence.

Step after step, Christian's thoughts clear. Ana. His family. GEH. The long game. He's in this for long game. A 3-month sabbatical. A shorter time period then the pandemic. Not much time at all.

They reach the 20th floor and Taylor pauses at the reception desk. "Brandon and the plumber are waiting in your office. I'll call Andrea and get her working on a list of alternative contractors if you don't like what the man says."

Christian nods. He walks down the hallway towards his office in the empty building. An ominous vibe. Empty.

He opens the heavy wooden door, expecting to see a man in coveralls. Instead, he sees Ana sitting on his leather couch, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Bare feet. Black nail polish tantalizing him. It's a mirage. It's…it's.

"Christian," Ana says, standing up. "Sorry to come here uninvited…it's just I got the invitation to the drone battle. And I saw your speech and I…I wanted to let you know how brave I think you are. Putting it all out there like that. In public."

Christian's jaw drops, as he processes her reaction. Admiration. Not for making money. For something else. The love he craved. Not for external rewards but for admitting something in his past. He's speechless.

"It was brave. And you know, I think you'll change lives with what you did. Other people who saw it. Saw you admit to trauma. They'll come out with their past and work through it."

Christian freezes. Other people. She's right. Jason helped him. He'll help others.

"And Jack and Filo. How you handled that. It was amazing. All of it. I didn't know you could be such a…role model. I knew I loved you…but I didn't realize why. I thought it was because of your aura. Your magnetism."

Ana moves closer to him, grabbing his hands with hers. "But, I was wrong. Those are just hormones. I love you because my energy changes when I'm with you. I become braver. Better. Stronger. You're a role model to me. I want to be more like you." Her eyes water.

Christian opens his mouth to speak, but words won't come out. He clears his throat, trying not to let out emotions.

"I'm here because I want to help you pack. For your sabbatical. I want to support you. On your journey. I want to be there for you. As your partner."

Ana leans in to kiss him. Then hesitates. Unsure.

Christian slowly leans in, breaking all doubt. Kissing her softly at first, then harder.

She breaks away first. Her eyes wide. "I was wrong. About not trusting you."

"No, I needed that push." His voice gets low, as he touches her cheek. He pushes a loose strand of her hair, placing it behind her ear. "And, I need you. I love you Ana."

Ana's face turns red. She doesn't make eye contact.

Christian chuckles, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Well, I start the heart rate training camp on Friday. Want to help me pack? Please tell me you'll stay in Seattle."

Ana nods, "Yeah, what do you think you'll need. And um…where will you be going? Will you have your phone?" She's biting her lip.

Christian whispers in her ear. "I'll answer your questions. But, first let's talk about you."

She nods, fidgeting with her hands.

"Would you house sit for me in Seattle, while I'm gone? I'll be a few different locations and need someone to watch over things." He assesses her face.

"But…but Montesano. And, don't you need your privacy? And what about my freelancing?"

"I want you to turn the playroom into your office space."

"But…I still don't have that many clients." Ana says, walking away from him.

"No one starts out with many clients," Christian says, treading on her heels. "Ana, do you think GEH started out as a big company? It took me two years to bring in my first deal. I also had outside investors. Consider this an investment in our shared future. I want to see you build something. I want to be there to witness it."

"Our shared future…" Ana says, gulping. She's shaking but nodding. "I…I would like that. A new paint color in that room would go a long way."

"Good," Christian says, grabbing her hand. He pulls her close to his chest. His heart rate slows down. She's agreed. A wave of calm passes over him. A reason to relax.

"And I've been thinking," Ana murmurs into his chest. "Those um…supplies in the playroom. There not all bad. Maybe we could um…keep a few of them. Let's put them in the master bedroom instead."

Christian's eyes light up. A double win. He leans in to kiss her. 2020 might not be so bad after all.