A/N: It has been too long since I have updated my beloved story. I blame procrastination. I feel like the characters in this story have become a group of friends on this journey. Saying good-bye to them will surely be hard. One more chapter after this one until Fifty Shades of Change is complete. Thank you for following along on this journey.
Please leave a review! It is the fuel to my writing tank.
Chapter 25
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
The weeks following our engagement are filled with nights together in the treehouse. When we exited our proposal bath, my things were already moved over from the beach villa. A bit of a foregone conclusion, Mr. Grey? The days are filled with friend time, exercise, and more self-reflection and personal growth.
When I am done re-editing Foolish, Christian and I sit down for a serious conversation.
"I want nothing to do with that book."
"But why, Christian? It's such a great story. I removed every possible clue that you and Leila were ever in a relationship."
"I just don't like it, ok?" Ruh-roh, all signs point to a Christian Grey temper tantrum. I channel some United Nations-worthy negotiation tactics.
"Won't you at least read the new version?" ((bat eye lashes, bite lower lip)) "There are so few accurate depictions of mental illness in fiction. I really think that these themes are relevant." ((straddle fiancé's lap, hum seductively)) "Mental illness, self-realization, inner strength…Foolish is going to speak to a lot of people out there. I know that Leila is a painful subject, but will you please promise me that you will give the story one more chance?" ((begin nipping at that one spot right behind his ear, slowly grind my hips))
"One more chance is all I am willing to offer. I will read your edits, but you have to make me a promise. If I still don't like it, you will drop the subject. You will burn the manuscript and never mention it again."
"Thank you, I promise that if you hate it, we will never speak of Foolish or Leila Williams again." I give Christian a kiss and leave him the new edition of the manuscript along with his lunch.
"Wait, what about my afternoon delight?"
"After you read the story," I call over my shoulder. Cruel? Yes. Effective, absolutely.
The days and weeks on Barabai pass - some quickly, some slowly. Several pharmaceutical companies develop COVID vaccines promising enough to enter testing trials. Christian and Elliott do all that they can to make GEH ready to manufacture and distribute the vaccines world-wide. GEH secretly buys the distribution rights for each vaccine well before the drugs are ready to go to market.
Now, we are all waiting for the different versions of the COVID vaccine to gain approval. If all goes according to plan, the majority of the globe will be fully vaccinated within three months of vaccine approval. That means we are getting closer to be able to return home.
Eventually, crazy Leila's three month sojourn at Escala comes to an end. Elliott and I watch the live CCTV footage of Leila's arrest. She only puts up a fight once she realizes that she is not allowed to take Christian's shoes with her when the police cart her away.
Dax and Ashton keep us entertained from afar. They continue to fiddle with new versions of their raft. We watch through binoculars as they regularly cruise (and often capsize) in the bay between the islands. Frederic dubs their efforts "Project Titanic."
"What's on your your mind?" I run my fingers through Christian's hair. I am lazing in his lap as he types away on his computer.
"We just got FDA approval on two of the vaccines."
"That is good right?"
"Very good. So many lives will be saved. Families will be reunited. Economies will be able to rebound. It's a very good thing indeed."
"Why do I sense there is a 'but' that you aren't saying?"
Christian tilts his face to kiss my temple. He sighs and wraps his arms around me. I give him a moment of quiet to gather his thoughts. When he doesn't say anything after a few minutes, I prompt him.
"Are you worried that the GEH distribution plan might not work?" I nuzzle into his neck.
"Absolutely not!" he scoffs. "Of course, GEH will succeed."
I giggle at his confidence.
"What has you worried?" He kisses my temple again.
"I worry about my family's safety, your safety, the safety of those that are working so hard to make world vaccination a reality."
"That's sweet," I kiss his neck. "We are safe here. I know you have the same safety measures in place for Ros, Barney, Welch, Andrea, and everyone else on your exec team."
"Nobody and no place is 100 percent safe," he pauses. "I would die if something happened to you because of me, Anastasia."
"Nothing is going to happen to any of us," I reassure him.
"God, I hope not," Christian sighs. He bends down to take me in a deep kiss.
I do the only thing that I know to reassure him. I wiggle out of his lap and stand to grab his hand. In our bedroom, I work my magical powers of sex and nakedness to take his mind far from his worries. The plan works so well that I continue to distract him throughout the evening. We miss dinner but no one comes looking for us. They can probably hear the sounds my magical powers elicit.
It is an exceptionally sunny afternoon that Kate, Mia, and I sneak down the path towards the treehouse. I shush their giggles while trying to stifle my own. We huddle together and try to be quiet as we implement our covert op. We are coming from the big house where lunch just arrived.
We were beyond excited to see the delivery included delicious, ripe pineapples. While we helped Gail to prepare the table, Kate described the delicious pineapple cocktails that she loved when her family traveled to Barbados. Mia suggested that we try to recreate the drinks, because what else did we have planned for our afternoon?
The tiki bar was out of coconut rum which Kate insisted was the secret ingredient to the drink. Knowing that there are bottles upon bottles of Malibu in Christian's bartering stash, we are trying to sneak in to the treehouse to grab a few bottles for our afternoon date with pineapple drinks and beach loungers.
My newly acquired flip-flops make smacking sounds against the hot boards of the walkway. We make the turn towards the treehouse. I feel a sudden, searing pain travel through my foot and up my calf. I look down to see the rattles of a snake disappear into the brush. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! That em-effing slimy tube of snake meat just bit me. A snake bit me. Ehr mah gawd, a snake bit me! Mia shrieks and Kate immediately starts screeching for help.
I feel light headed and want to sit down. The only thing that stops me is the risk of snake bites to my lady bits. Crap on a stick - this hurts! Mia leans down and tries to put her lips on my foot.
"Stop that," I bark. "What in the holy hell are you doing?"
"Trying to suck out the venom," Mia replies. "Now stay still."
"Get off my foot, you idiot!" I try to shake her off my leg, but the blinding pain prevents me from kicking. I turn my attention to Kates who is nonsensically screeching. This situation is quickly circling the drain. I channel my inner Ray Steele. I hear his instructions from bygone camping trips.
"Annie, don't panic. It's the panic that will get you in trouble. Keep your heart beating slowly. That will slow the spread of the venom. Elevate the affected extremity. Stay calm. Don't use a tourniquet. Try to memorize what the snake looks like. This will be important when it comes to the need for anti-venom."
I take a deep breath. Much like every other crisis situation that involves my band of merrymakers, I can tell it will be my job to maintain the voice of reason. I begin barking orders.
"Kate, run up to the treehouse. Get one is the CPOs, preferably Reynolds. He used to be a former military medic." Kate heeds my advice and takes off sprinting like Jackie Joyner-Kersey.
Protecting my lady bits from the same fate as my foot, I continue to refuse to sit. "Mia, come here. Let me put my foot on your shoulder," I say. I do a sort of vertical split standing on one foot while propping the other on Mia's shoulder. She wraps her arms around my waste to steady me. This is the position that a sprinting troupe of CPOs, a billionaire, and his brother find us in.
The CPOs are the model of military precision and efficiency. After assessing the situation, Taylor immediately pushes Christian back to the treehouse. Christian is arguing and trying to stay by my side, but Taylor out-mans him and manages to get him back to snake-free safety. I remember what Ethan told me about how every drill they practiced ended with keeping Christian safe and free from danger. I guess that includes snakes, too.
Sawyer whisks me up bridal style. He carries me back to treehouse. I am placed upon some type of treatment table. Wait, where did this come from? Reynolds begins inspecting my wound while Sawyer transitions into the role of medic's assistant. They work together in a rare synchrony that comes with years of training and field experience. I feel the tightening of a blood pressure cuff around my arm. Reynold gives me two pills to take. He explains that these will slow down my heart rate and prevent the spread of venom. From the side of the room, I hear Taylor questioning Mia and Kate about what the snake looked like. I'm beginning to feel dizzy. I hold back my nausea and manage to spit out a few words.
"It was orange and green striped with white diamonds near its head and a rattle on its tail," I cough out.
Reynolds and Sawyer make eye contact in a way that alarms me just a bit.
"Is that a bad kind of snake?" I ask. Not that there is a good kind of snake…
The CPOs remain silent.
"Well, is it bad?" I hear Christian demand from across the room. Poor Taylor must be using duct tape to restrain Christian from getting in Reynolds and Sawyer's way.
"It's not good," Reynolds barks. The medic looks towards Taylor saying, "Sir, we need to activate Code Echo Golf at this time."
"Activate Code Echo Golf," Taylor repeats before picking up a red phone attached to the wall. Why is there a wall phone that looks like the one the President uses to launch nukes? Are we in the Batcave?
Taylor speaks into the phone with the voice of a commanding general ordering troops to engage in battle. "This is Juliet Tango. Activate Code Echo Golf. Repeat. Activate Code Echo Golf."
Sawyer is swiping away on an iPad. He reads aloud to Reynolds, "Orange and green striped rattler with white diamonds. It's a Concordia Rattlesnake. Neurotoxic. Immediate pressure bandage advised. Anti-v enom necessary to prevent total neurological devastation."
"Fuck," Reynolds murmurs under his breath so that only I can hear him. "Where is the closest known medical center with the anti-venom?"
Sawyer appears to scroll down his screen and responds, "The DRC."
"Fuck No!" Christian shouts. "There is no way Ana is going to the Congo. Where else has the anti-venom?" Wait, what? I'm going somewhere? My head feels fuzzy and I am having trouble connecting the dots.
"The closest friendly nation is Germany, Sir. They are not currently allowing foreigners in right now."
"We are taking her to Germany. They will let us in. I AM CHRISTIAN MOTHERFUCKING GREY!" My boyfriend bellows.
I hear the unmistakable sounds of an incoming helicopter. Holy Batman! Is it coming to evacuate me? I was bitten by a snake, literally, seven minutes ago. How in the hell?
I see Taylor pushing Christian to the hallway. I can't hear what they are saying but the conversation appears heated. I turn my head away and focus on keeping my breathing slow to keep my heart rate under control.
Reynolds is wrapping some sort of tight pressure dressing on my foot. Is it my imagination or is my face starting to feel numb? Sawyer is placing cold, sticky electrodes to me cheat. Christian is going to have a field day when he finds out one of his CPOs had his hands on my chest. I feel too floaty and disconnected to make a joke about Sawyer feeling me up.
Suddenly, I see Christian's tear-filled eyes hovering above my face. He kisses me tenderly and cups my cheek with his hand. "I love you, babe. I love you so goddamned much." Why does it feel like he is saying goodbye?
"I love you, too," I murmur back. My vision is growing fuzzy.
I hear Taylor say, "Sir, it's time." They must be ready to move me to the helicopter. I brace myself expecting one of the CPOs to scoop me up. Only I stay where I am.
I hear a commotion outside and then the sounds of the rotors speeding up and then getting more distant. Why is the helicopter leaving? They forgot to take me with them. I look around the room. I can't find Christian or Taylor. I see Frederic standing by the doorway. He has that stupid backpack slung across his shoulder. It's the same one that he was carrying the night we arrived in the Maldives.
I hear the sound of another incoming helicopter. This time, I am hoisted onto a battlefield-type carry gurney. Sawyer and Reynolds are trotting me out towards the beach. Sand beats at my face. I feel the stretcher being lifted into the helicopter. Sawyer, wearing Frederic's backpack, climbs in behind me.
An unfamiliar, military-looking dude in a flight suit and wearing a helmet with a microphone mouthpiece appears at my head. "Good afternoon ma'am," he greets me. "My name is Rogers. I'm the flight surgeon aboard today."
He tosses a helmut with a mouthpiece to my CPO. Rogers speaks to Sawyer while taking notes on a small clipboard. What the fuck is happening? Where is Christian?
Before I can process the last ten minutes of my life, we are airborne. I feel the sharp stick of an IV being inserted into my arm.
I feel really unwell. My foot all the way to my hip feels like a searing hot poker of fire is burning from the inside out. My face feels numb. The skin on my hands and arms feels tight and itchy. My brain is foggy. I feel awake but disconnected. I can process what is happening around me but I cannot seem to participate.
Sawyer gives some type of report to Rogers.
"22 year old female...no known allergies… height 158 centimeters, weight 47.3 kilos...past history of childhood head trauma secondary to domestic violence...history of anxiety...last menstrual period started 19 days ago...last oral intake was fruit and granola approximately 4 hours ago...takes a daily multivitamin...blood type A negative...one known strike noted to dorsal aspect of the left foot, two anterior puncture wounds proximal to the hallux...atenolol administered approximately 15 minutes ago to prophylactically decrease heart rate...snake was identified with markings and puncture widths commiserate with the Concordia Rattlesnake known for neurotoxic venom…"
The flight surgeon's head shoots up from his clipboard at Sawyer's last statement. "Neurotoxic venom? Localized or systemic?" Rogers questions.
Sawyer takes a short pause before responding, "Systemic."
"Fuck," Rogers says under his breath. He quickly turns his attention to attaching me to more monitors. He hangs a bag of IV fluids on a hook by my head. A penlight momentarily blinds me before the blackness begins to overtake me.
"Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Grey," a hand shakes my shoulder. Why is he calling me Mrs. Grey? "We are going to give you some medication to make you go to sleep. This is going to help protect your brain until we can get you to the anti-venom."
I feel something cold rush through the IV. I hear Sawyer say before I fall into the hazy darkness is, "Do whatever you have to to save her. Money is no object. Mr. Grey won't survive without her."
The last thing I hear is the rhythmic sounds of the helicopter blades slicing through the salty air as we leave Barabai behind us. Where is Christian?
Beep, beep, beep. In the distance, the familiar pings of medical equipment sound. It feels like I am floating on a cloud. I am both freezing cold and sweating profusely. When I go to move my hand, nothing happens. My eyelids are too heavy to open. I want to pull this godforsaken tube from my throat. I am suddenly so tired. I drift back to sleep.
Time is irrelevant. I drift in and out of consciousness, never able to open my eyes. Sometimes I hear voices speaking. I recognize neither the voices nor their language. At times, hands roll me from side-to-side. Sometimes, I think that I hear a familiar voice that I cannot place, but I can't understand the words it says. I am so tired, so very, very tired. Beep, beep, beep.
"Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Grey, can you open your eyes for me." Words that I recognize! I am so happy to understand someone. Who is speaking to me? Why is she calling me Mrs. Grey? I try with every muscle to open my eyes, but I cannot. I return to the one thing that I know in this crazy, lightless world. I embrace the darkness and allow sleep to envelope me.
Today feels different. I am no longer cold. The air around me feels warm and invites me to wake up. My nose itches. I raise my hand to scratch it. I am raising my hand! This feels like a big deal. After a few flutters, my eyes blink open. Everything around me looks cozy and warm but the room still smells of hospital disinfectant. I hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor that has been the metronome to my slumber.
"Look who is awake," a friendly female voice greets me from the bedside. What is her accent? Is it Dutch? German? My brain is too foggy to this out. I blink some more. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes comes into focus. She is wearing nursing scrubs.
"It's good to see you awake, Mrs. Grey."
I try to tell her my last name is Steele not Grey. My mouth is too dry. I realize that the tube down my throat is gone. When did that happen?
She shushes me. "Don't try to talk just yet. Take some sips of water first." She holds a cup with a straw to my lips. The first sips of the cool water burn my dry throat. Soon, the drink feels like manna from heaven. I gulp until the straw slurps dry the bottom of the cup. This makes the woman laugh.
"You must be thirsty. I'll get you some more water in just a minute. First, can you tell me if you are hurting anywhere? How does your foot feel?"
I wiggle my toes. The left foot feels funny but I see the sheet above it move in response to my attempt.
"Very good. That doesn't hurt at all?"
I shake my head no. "Where am I?" I ask. The woman gives another gentle laugh.
"Oh my, you must be very confused right now. My name is Louisa. I am your private duty nurse. We have been together since you arrived here in Switzerland."
"Switzerland?" I croak out. The haze in my head prevents me from piecing together a full understanding.
"Yes," Louisa continues. "You are at a private clinic here in the mountains. You arrived a few weeks ago. You were very sick, Mrs. Grey."
Again with the wrong name. "It's Steele. My name is Anastasia Steele."
Louisa gives me a funny look. Wait, my name is still Anastasia Steele, right? What the hey-hey happened while I was unconscious. Is Christian here? Louisa must sense my uncertainties.
"Let me get your visitor, Mrs. Grey. I am sure that he can best explain things." She pats my hand and leaves the room. I take a moment to take in my surroundings. I am in a hospital bed but the room looks more like a swanky hotel than a medical center. A beautiful quilt keeps me warm. Plush, upholstered chairs flank a large bay window that looks out to lush green hills and snow-capped mountains in the distance. A rolling tray over the bed is another clue that I am in some sort of medical clinic for the absurdly privileged.
The door to my room opens again. I hope that I am able to disguise my disappointment when Sawyer and not Christian enters the room. Sawyer speaks to Louisa in some language that I still cannot place. They converse for a few minutes before my nurse exits, closing the door behind her.
"Mrs. Grey, how do you feel?" Sawyer asks me in a tone more formal than our usual banter.
"Why are you calling me Mrs. Grey?"
Sawyer looks uncomfortable. He pulls one of the chairs up to the bedside.
"Here, everyone knows you as Mrs. Grey," he says in a low voice meant only for my ears.
I raise an eyebrow.
"We had some, uh, difficulties getting access to the anti-venom for you. Ehr, well the problem was convincing Switzerland, or any other European country with the anti-venom, to allow you entry. Time was of the essence…" Sawyer looks everywhere but at me.
"What does that have to do with my name?" I know the answer as soon as I ask the question.
No country was willing to admit Ana Steele the 22-year-old, unemployed girl from Seattle. Admitting Anastasia Grey, the wife of billionaire Christian Grey...the European countries were probably stepping all over each other to get the privilege of saving the life of Christian Grey's wife.
Before Sawyer can fill in the details of how I suddenly became Anastasia Grey, I change the subject. "Is Christian here? I bet he has been pooping in his fancy pants while I was recovering."
If possible, Sawyer looks even more uncomfortable than when I asked him about my new last name.
"So, umm, yeah...Mr. Grey is not here."
"Well, where is he?"
"I don't know exactly."
"What do you mean, you don't know, Sawyer? You are a member of his security team. Where is my husband?" I ask with exaggerated air quotes around the word husband.
"I don't know. Nobody really knows, actually."
"Nobody knows where Christian is?" Now I am starting to panic a little bit. "Did something happen to him?" My heart is racing.
"No, no, Mr. Grey is fine," Sawyer rushes to reassure me. "We had to perform a Code Echo Golf. He and Taylor evacuated off Barabai after your snake bite. No one has access to their current location."
"Oh," I stammer. "Is he ok?"
"Yes ma'am. He is safe. This is all part of the presumed threat protocol."
"There is a presumed threat?"
"There was," Sawyer says. "The snake that bit you, the Concordia Rattlesnake, is not indigenous to the Maldives. We had to assume that the snake was planted on Barabai in an attempt to hurt Mr. Grey. Code Echo Golf, that stands for Code Evacuate Grey." Of course it does.
Over the next several days, I spend my days doing intensive physical and occupational therapy. I lost a great deal of muscle while I was in the medical induced coma designed to protect my brain from the damaging neurotoxins of the Concordia Rattlesnake. The only lasting damage besides the nasty wound on my foot is a weird loss of coordination. I work hard to recover skills such as walking without assistance, brushing my teeth, and feeding myself.
Sawyer sleeps on a cot in my suite. He is my shadow. I draw the line at going into the bathroom with me. I have no doubt that he stands guard outside the door. He proves to be good company. He goads me to work harder and push my limits during therapy. In a rare moment of candor, Sawyer admits to secretly falling for Mia while we were on Barabai. He makes me howl with laughter as he tells me of their attempts to arrange romantic rendezvous without getting caught by Christian or Taylor. Sawyer confirms my suspicions that Taylor and Gail were doing the grown up behind closed doors.
No matter how much I beg, Sawyer stays mum about what happens when I am ready for hospital discharge. He swears that he has no information about where Christian is or even if the rest of the merrymakers are still on Barabai. Only time will tell where we go from here.