Chapter Twenty-five

Greene had been reluctant to let me be present for the internal scan. But Ana insisted on it, so I'm holding her hand when an indecipherable moving image appears on the screen, and I haven't yet worked out what I'm looking at when Greene says, "Well, everything appears normal." The image freezes, and she explains, "I'd say the spotting is just a small rupture of the uterine wall, as your baby settles into their new home." She hands Ana a cloth, saying, "You can sit up now."

I have no idea what just happened. "That's it?"

Greene smiles, and angles the screen towards me. She points to a tiny spot on the screen, and says, "Nothing much to see, at this stage, but that's your baby; about three hundred cells of your combined DNA. My best guess is three weeks from conception. Does that sound about right?"

That means we probably got pregnant that very first day. Ana giggles—no doubt thinking the same thing—and I squeeze her hand before saying, "About right. So, it's meant to look like that?"

"Exactly like that." To Ana, she says, "I want to start seeing you every four weeks, and I'll schedule the next scan for fifteen weeks, okay? It'll be much less invasive."

Marveling at the fact that the tiny dot will soon be a human, I ask, "Can these checkups be done at Escala? Ana is moving in with me."

It's been years since I was able to shock Dr. Pamela Greene. "She is?" When I only smile, she continues, "Well, congratulations. And, yes, we can do that for a while. The scan will need to be done here, but the world will know by then anyway."

Though she obviously can't see it, Ana asks, "Can we get a copy of the picture?"

"Of course."

Greene fusses with the machine for a while, and then there's a whir, and she hands Ana a black and white photo of what's on the screen. She immediately shows it to me, asking, "Darling, what do you see?"

"Uh, most of it is a gray background, but there's a distinct dot or blip in the middle. Apparently, that's our baby. I'm afraid they're not very impressive right now."

She laughs, and says, "Don't worry; I'm sure they'll be giving us hell soon enough."

I raise her hand to my lips for a moment, and accuse, "If they take after you, yes."

I'm again staring at the photo when Greene says, "I'll send you home with some information, but do either of you have any questions at this stage?"

It's also been years since I was embarrassed to ask her anything. "Uh, yeah. My relationship with Ana isn't quite what I've been used to, but I'm still...we, uh, sometimes indulge in light scenes. Will that be a problem?"

Greene smiles kindly, and says, "No. Your baby is now cocooned in one of nature's best shock absorbers. I'd steer clear of anything that provokes a fight or flight response, because stress could prove dangerous, for mother and child. But, other than that, the only constraints are what works for both of you." Then looking at a slightly pink Ana, she continues, "Hopefully, your biggest problem will be increased sensitivity, which might make even foreplay unpleasant. It's all covered in the information booklet, and you have my number." Nodding towards me, she concludes, "And, if Mr. Grey gives you any trouble, I know his mother, okay?"

I'm certain she wouldn't make good on that threat, so I merely glare at her as Ana giggles, and says, "I'll remember that, thank you."

Taylor is waiting outside by the A4, and opens the door for us. I was nervous about visiting Greene's office, because she's good enough at her job to be well known. I only relax when he nods, indicating that he's satisfied no one followed us. Once we're all inside the car, Ana informs Taylor, "We have a picture of our baby...well, the cells that will become our baby."

"So, everything's okay?"

"Everything is perfect, thank you."

"I'm glad. Where to, ma'am?"

She looks to me, saying, "Actually, can I cook an early dinner for us? I didn't finish my lunch."

I command, "Ana's apartment."

"Yes, sir."

Once we're underway, I put my arm around Ana, and she leans against me, staring at the photo as if she can see it. And I ask, "Would you like me to stay the night?"

"I don't need it, but you're welcome. I'm okay now. I just got scared for Blip."

I can't help a grin, and say, "Blip? Hardly an auspicious nickname for my progeny."

"Our progeny." Tapping the photo, she maintains, "Blip."

"Blip, it is." Kissing her temple, I say, "Thank you, for calling me. It's a load off my mind to know that you trust me to look after both of you."

"No, thank you. I felt so much better after talking to you. And I like Dr. Greene. Does she really know your mother?"

"Everyone in the medical profession knows Grace. She's one of Seattle's best pediatricians."

"And she couldn't have children of her own?"

"As far as I know, they never considered trying. Grace chose instead to care for other people's babies. She's seen some pretty horrific things though, and Carrick told me they were already considering adoption when Elliot became her patient."

"Oh, God, he was abused too?"

"No, baby. He was suffering from neglect and malnutrition, but soon bounced back. Nowadays, he's a hedonist glutton, so perhaps he's still making up for lost time." She's quiet for so long that I ask, "What are you thinking?"

She doesn't hesitate long to reveal, "That I really would like to see this picture."

"I can have someone sculpt a rendering for you, but there's honestly not much to see. Want me to make sure Greene has a 3-D printer for later scans?"

"She can do that?"

"I presume so. The technology is certainly advanced enough by now, so she might already have one. If not, I'll make sure she has access to one when there's something to see."

"Thank you, darling." Handing me the photo, she says, "In the meantime, would you keep this safe?"

I put it in the booklet, and promise, "Always."

We're still eating the quick dinner I prepared when Christian asks, "Okay, baby?"

He has an uncanny knack for knowing when my mind is in turmoil. "Yes. I was just thinking...remember when you asked permission to look into a cure for me?"

"You've changed your mind?"

"Maybe. I can live without seeing you, though it would be lovely. But the idea of not being able to ever see our child...I wouldn't like that, not if there's a chance I could. And, forbidding you from even looking into it...well, it's like you choosing not to take the meds, now that you can, right?"

"Not quite the same thing. Your blindness hasn't actually caused much problem in your life, whereas my shades have often left me barely able to function. But I get your meaning. Still, it's up to you. Do you have the details?"

"Dad does." Just knowing that Christian is leaving the decision to me means that I'm suddenly brave enough to choose, "I'll get him to send you all the information he has, okay?"

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Just...please don't let me know anything, unless there's a real chance. I know it wasn't really my fault, but my family went through a lot because...after the accident."

His voice gentle, he asks, "Baby, why would you think it's your fault at all?"

It's so annoying when even words let me down. "I...there was a boy, who thought he could ride a horse that no one could even get near. He was already unconscious, and had two fractured ribs, by the time I'd put on a helmet."

"You got between them."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Why the fuck are you apologizing?"

"You sounded scared, and now you're angry."

"Not with you." He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, before saying, "It's just that not even modern medicine can keep me calm when I'm reminded there's a chance I might outlive you. And, before you, anger was my default emotion."

For some reason, that makes me smile. "Christian, that's tragic."

He breathes a laugh, and says, "Yeah, mostly for my family. Anyway, I owe you a reward."

"For?"

"Letting me look into a cure for you. Dominant Christian is convinced that it's a personal favor to him."

My smile widens. "I can see why he'd think that. In that case, do you think you could be gentle tonight? I know that Dr. Greene said we're good to go, but...I was so scared, Christian."

"Baby, we don't need to fuck at all. I will never want to have sex, if you don't."

"I know. I want to. And I think you can tell how much I enjoy the way we fuck. It's just until I get over my fear."

He's silent for a scary amount of time, and then says, "All right. But you'll have to help me."

"Help you? Oh, you are gentle with me?"

He laughs a little, and admits, "Well, I thought so, until now. It's okay. I'm not upset. I can tell you enjoy what we do. But, if it can be better, I'm happy to find out what I'm getting wrong."

"Not wrong, and it wouldn't necessarily be better. I'm just...you're a little vigorous. I know it's silly, but part of me worries that we could literally dislodge Little Blip."

"Oh. So, you want it like the very first time, when I was worried about hurting you?"

"Something like that, but...I get carried away too, so I was thinking we could...I guess, change down a gear or two? Even that first time, the foreplay wasn't gentle, and I'm absolutely fine with that. But you make me crazy. When I noticed the blood, my first thought was that I'd killed our baby by fucking you last night."

I'm struggling to keep from weeping when he holds me close, saying, "Hey, our baby is fine. You know that. Let's just get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"No, please, I need this."

"Because?"

"Because being with you makes me forget everything bad." It's the truth, but feels too dishonest, until I add, "And I don't like feeling afraid."

"So you do the thing that scares you."

"Yes. You're the same?"

"Shades permitting, yes. I think I understand what you need from me now. Do you trust me?"

I smile, and this time tell the whole truth. "I always have."

Thursday evening, the elevator at Escala pings my arrival at the penthouse, and the doors open on Christian saying, "Hey, baby. Happy one month anniversary. I have something for you, but it can wait until you've changed."

Glad that I got him a small gift, and hoping that he hasn't spent much, I walk into his arms, saying "Happy anniversary," and pull his head down to mine for a kiss.

He eventually ends it with a groan, and says, "We don't have time for you to greet me like that. If we're to be married, you should know that I detest tardiness."

Unusual behavior. "Are you nervous?"

After a moment, he says, "It didn't go well the last time Rodriguez and I met in public."

He's already guiding me into the apartment, as I ask, "But you don't think that will happen again?"

"No. It's just a symptom. Don't worry. I'll behave myself."

"I'm not worried." And then I remember a reason. "Oh, though José did say something about payback for the punch, but he promised me it's nothing bad."

We've stopped, and Christian asks, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry. Want me to ask him for details? He refused before, but I could explain that you need it."

We're walking again, and he says, "No. Fuck. Kind of wish you hadn't told me though."

"It'd be better to surprise you?"

I'm relieved when he laughs a little. "No, that'd be bad too." And then he releases me, saying, "I've chosen a mid-length, royal blue gown for you. It's laid out on our bed. Want help getting dressed?"

I laugh, and ask, "How would that be quicker?"

"Yes, you're probably right." He gently smacks my ass, saying, "But hurry up. Meet me at the piano."

The dress is backless, like the one I've borrowed from Kate a couple of times. I smile as I change into it, imagining Christian's joy at choosing this for me. There's also a small handbag and exquisite shoes on the bed, which I presume match the dress. Only a few minutes later, I find my way to the living room, guided by the sound of the piano. He must be watching out for me this time, because the music stops as I enter, and he exclaims, "Wow, you look amazing!"

I laugh, and remind him, "You chose it."

"Yes, but it looks better on you."

I curtsy slightly, and say, "Thank you, sir." I've never thought to ask before, but I'm suddenly very curious. "And what are you wearing tonight?"

"Uh, navy blue jeans, a white dress shirt—no tie—and a black leather jacket. Does that meet with your approval?"

It does, indeed. "You'll do. So, what's going on here?"

"I told you that I sometimes see images, since meeting you. Before that, I exclusively heard music for different people. This one is Mia."

I approach, absolutely captivated, as a bubbly tune fills the air. I giggle, and comment, "That's exactly her. I see a butterfly flitting through an orchard in full bloom."

He chuckles, saying, "Yes, that's my sister. And this one is Carrick."

A very different tune. "I see a busy harbor, on a clear day, with lots of white sails heading out to sea."

"He'd like that. Dad is almost as keen on sailing as I am. Have you ever been?"

"Uh, not for a long time. Not being able to see...I'm scared of the water now. But I'm sure that I'd enjoy it, if I'm with you."

"We'll wait for a clear day then...assuming we ever find the time. This next one is you. Happy anniversary, baby."

Oh, it's beautiful. This room is bright enough to be a little distracting, so I close my eyes, and am carried away by the music. It's somehow strong and gentle at the same time. It ends all too soon, and I take one shuddering breath, before asking, "That's really how you see me?"

His voice gentle, he asks, "What's the image?"

"A lush meadow, full of wildflowers, under a perfect sky. Thank you, darling." Retrieving the tiny package from my purse, I approach, saying, "And this is for you. Happy anniversary."

As he takes it from me, he raises my hand to his lips, and then releases me, saying, "Thank you." A few seconds later, he asks, "A flash drive?"

"Also an MP3 player. It's my voice, reading The Great Gatsby. I thought it might help you sleep, when we're not together."

I hear the emotion in his voice, when he says, "Thank you, baby. If you don't mind, I'll postpone thanking you properly, or we'll miss your friend's show altogether."

"Probably a good idea. You playing piano is sexy as hell."

I merely laugh when he growls, "Ana!"

Thanks to Charlie Tango, we're not very late to the exhibition in Portland. Keen for José's show to be a success, I've asked for Christian's first impressions. As we enter, he says, "Not packed, but several people here. Certainly not a flop. And I can see why; he has talent."

Nervous in this strange place, I'm clutching his arm, so there's no chance of falling. I pat his arm, and say, "Thank you, darling."

Just then a woman greets us, "Good evening, and welcome to José Rodriguez's show." After a moment, her voice is slightly warmer, when she says, "Oh, it's you, Ana. Welcome. There are snacks and drinks to your right. José is busy right now, but asks that you see him before you leave?"

"Thank you. I'd like that."

Her voice is a purring cat when she says, "I hope you enjoy the show, Mr. Grey."

"Thanks." I hear heels clacking as she walks away, and then Christian sneers, "Another woman who can't speak without touching me."

I laugh, and say, "Well, I won't pass judgement for that."

He kisses me quickly, and says, "You, I don't mind so much. So, you know her?"

I presume that means he doesn't, but he's probably used to strangers knowing his name. "I really don't. Perhaps José made sure she'd recognize me, so I'd feel safe. He was careful to choose an accessible building."

"Well, that was considerate. Are you hungry?"

"Only a little. I managed to get through lunch today."

He's leading me across the room, as he asks, "Perhaps a snack, then. We'll have supper later. There's usually not much that's healthy at these events. Want to sit?"

"Please."

Christian has not long left my side when José exclaims, "Ana! You made it."

I stand and hold my arms out, saying, "Of course. I couldn't miss this."

I'm swept up in a hug, as he says, "I was so nervous. Thank you, for coming." He releases me, and asks, "Where's your billionaire?"

"Fetching me some food. We just got here. It's going well? It sounds like quite a few people."

"Yeah, I've already sold a couple of pieces. And I anticipate...ah, here he is now."

It sounds like Christian is playing it cool, when he says, "Rodriguez. Congratulations. Looks like a hit, and deservedly so. You have a good eye."

José sounds genuinely moved, when he says, "Thank you, Christian." And then he more brightly continues, "Ana, I need to borrow your fiancée for a minute. You'll be okay here? I can ask Cindy to sit with you?"

Confused, but unafraid, I say, "No, I'm fine. What's going on?"

He kisses my cheek, and whispers "Payback," and then instructs, "This way, Christian."

"Ana?"

I trust José enough that I'm not very worried, but Anxious Christian will be in charge right now, so I smile, and reassure him, "I'll be right here, stuffing my face, when you return."

There's a touch on the back of my hand, and then I'm holding a small plate resting on a cloth napkin, and Christian says, "Just a few appetizers; low chance of schmutz."

"Thank you, darling." Unsure if I'll see my apparently talented friend again before we leave, I say, "Congratulations, José."

"Thanks, Ana. I have to do some PR stuff soon. If I don't see you before you leave, I'll call tomorrow, okay?"

"Please."

It's confusing with both of them here, but I presume it's Christian who then strokes my arm for a moment, before I hear them walking away. I sit down, and start trying to identify the food. Finding what I think is a samosa, I bite into it, and silently congratulate myself for guessing correctly. I'm still chewing when a timid voice asks, "Excuse me, are you Ana?"

Quickly swallowing, I say, "Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No, I'm just a fan of José's work. May I take a picture with you?" It sounds like a young woman.

I'm too shocked for anything but complete honesty. "Why?"

"Just a souvenir."

Utterly confused, I say, "I'd rather you didn't."

I hear her walk away, but then I'm sure that I hear the sound of a camera shutter, like the one on my phone. Not much I can do about it, so I wait until it seems like I'm again relatively alone before returning to my snack. But I've lost my appetite, and put the plate beside me. Thankfully, I barely have time to be bored before hurried footsteps precede Christian saying, "Let's go."

"Go? We just got here."

Grabbing my elbow, and hauling me to my feet, he hisses, "The fucker has been taking pictures of you for years, Ana. There are several large portraits of you, open for anyone to see. The idiot even labeled them, though thankfully only with your first name."

"What?"

"I figured you didn't know. They're so...you look too relaxed for them to be staged."

That explains the snap happy fan. "Where's José?"

"Doing some interview. Don't worry, I had just enough time to express my disapproval before he was whisked away."

He's basically dragging me along, and I wrest my arm from his grasp, to remind him, "Christian, I'm not a pet, or a toy."

I hear him run a hand through his hair, and he says, "Sorry, baby. But, please, let's get out of here before someone recognizes you from the portraits. You really don't need more fame."

He sounds really scared, so I choose not to tell him that it's too late to worry about that, and instead extend my hand for his, as I say, "Sounds like effective payback."

As he leads us towards the exit, he manages a humorless laugh, and says, "Yeah, except now I'm wishing that I hadn't pulled my punch."