"Are you sure you're alright, Anastasia?" "Me? Who cares about me? You're the one who was unconscious for two hours." "I care," Christian smiled warmly over at me. He was lying in a hospital bed with me glued to his side. It was the strangest thing. Here I was in the hospital after that whole episode with the Yellow Scarves and Christian getting stabbed, and still no word from my father or Jerome. It was thankfully just the two of us in that room together; I felt more than a little confident to hold his hand in both of mine. The first thing he asked about when he came to was about me; where I was and if I was alright. This made me break down and I cried at his bedside for I don't know how long. It was morning by now and the nurse came in every hour or so to check on him. The wound was deep but not life-threatening, thank goodness. They still gave him pain-killers, which he reluctantly took. I stayed there, sitting beside his bed and continuously holding his hand, which I think he liked; his smile told me so.
At about ten in the morning, Christian was awake and we were lightly talking; the pills were making him drowsy. Jason was on his way and Paul took the man who stabbed Christian off to the police station; he'd swing by later. Right on cue, the nurse opened the door and shut it behind her. She addressed Christian first. "How are you feeling, Mr. Grey?" "Still a bit sore, but better," he said in a very hushed tone. I was a bit surprised when the nurse nodded and then turned to face me. "And you, Miss Steele. How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine! Nothing happened to me." "Nonetheless, we need to run through some things," my eyes grew as she pulled out a fresh clipboard and pen. She began scribbling something.
"Any bleeding or bruises that you're aware of?" "No?" Why was she asking me this? I already told her nothing happened to me. Was this really necessary? "Any lacerations or concussions?" "No?" Once again, not necessary; she should be focusing on Christian- not me. She wrote down more and scanned over the sheet. "Any history of family illness or cancer?" "Uh, both my grandparents had skin cancer?" Though I don't see why she needed to know that. "Any previous illnesses or injuries that you have been hospitalized for?" My mouth shot open but hesitated… Technically yes but I wasn't sure if I wanted to say that in front of Christian. Only my father knew I got stabbed. To my utter shock and horror, when I failed to respond, Christian sat up slightly in his bed.
"Yes, she was stabbed eight years ago," he told the nurse. I blinked back at him with the largest of eyes; my heart suddenly stopped and rapidly fluttered at once. How did he…? How could he possibly know that? My jaw hung wide open. The nurse looked confused before writing this down on the sheet. I didn't hear what else she asked or when she finally left; all of my attention was locked onto Christian. When we were finally alone in the room, my bottom lip started to tremble as Christian gazed at me concerned.
"Anastasia…" "How…? How did you know…?" I couldn't formulate a coherent full sentence. Christian's eyes fixed as his lips parted a little. "Anastasia, I was there; it was me. I was the one you saved that day." I suddenly leaped backwards off my chair somehow. It clanged down onto the floor while I stood there, mouth agape. I was already on the verge of tears- a sea of tears. And I merely stared at him, desperate for answers but unable to ask for them. I couldn't even breathe in that moment.
"I'm sorry; I was going to tell you. I wanted to wait until we were back from Florence," Christian said in a pleading tone. A single tear rolled down my cheek. "How long….?" "Huh?" "How long have you known…..?" I managed to squeak out. His eyes grew then contrasted again. "During your first week of your internship. The hospital sent my lawyers your file for the court date; I requested a copy." "No… no…" I was having more than a little trouble believing it. That man I saved was invisible and far away from me; I didn't know him. I was convinced I'd never see him again. This is not possible… This cannot be possible…
"Anastasia? Are you alright?" "You can't… you can't be him… That was eight years ago…." More tears; lots more tears. Christian's eyes lowered onto me again; much gentler this time. "Can I see?" That was all he asked, but I knew what he meant. My eyes drifted off into nowhere for a second before I thoughtlessly pulled up the bottom of my shirt. Christian would be the only other one to see the scar other than the doctors and Daddy. He saw it and his eyes got huge; and not in a good way. More like he was looking at something horrifying. The long, albeit faded scar ran right up along the middle of my stomach area; I didn't like to look at it much. But Christian stared for a good minute or so, like he was seeing reality for the first time- truly comprehending what occurred eight years ago.
"Oh, Anastasia…." His own stare growing watery, it moved back up to my face. He looked so sorry, so pained by the sight. I didn't know what to say, how I could make him feel better. My head was in a very weird place at the moment. "You saved me… you really saved me that day…" Christian said more to himself than me; he was still grappling with the situation. I lowered my shirt and turned to peer off to the side, unable to watch him anymore. "You… just got stabbed instead of me, Christian," I uttered, still unable to look his way. "No… No, Anastasia; nothing will ever be worth your sacrifice," he sounded a tad panicked now, as if he didn't want me to think us even. But my gaze narrowed off into the distance. Yes, we're even now; I didn't ask for you to save me, just like how you didn't ask me. You got in between the blade and me without hesitation… Just how I did that day for you.
"Is that why….?" My hand rolled into fists. "What?" "Is that why you were so nice to me? Why you came to Florence? Because I got stabbed instead of you years ago?" Christian didn't answer right away, electing instead to gawk at me in disbelief. "No, of course not. I would have done that regardless." "Why? Why…..?" Lots and lots of tears. The corners of his mouth tightened. "Because…. I love you, Anastasia Steele. I've always loved you; there is no other. It's always been you- always."
My eyes enlarged as the tears streamed down my face. I couldn't think… I couldn't breathe. Literally no thoughts went through my mind in that moment. Instead everything I felt, everything I was was a whirlwind of contradictions. Pure joy and utter sorrow, ice cold and burning hot, eternity and a fleeting second, falling and floating…. My body physically couldn't handle it. So, I simply let my brain go into autopilot and I became an automaton. I wiped the remaining tears from my eyes and started to head towards the door. Christian bolted up in alarm.
"Anastasia?!" "I'm going to call my father," I said without looking back as I opened the door. "Anastasia…." He sounded beyond desperate. I stayed there motionless for a second before peaking at him from over I shoulder. I have no memory of smiling or what I said next, but I know it happened; I can feel it inside of me, a part of me- my essence.
"I love you too, Christian…. so much."