Chapter One

I don't know if he's aware of my touch, but I'm holding Christian's hand anyway, while I sit beside the hospital bed, and ask Flynn, "How long will he be like this?"

"Uh, I'm afraid no one can answer that, but I don't expect it to be more than hours. The pills I gave him will be doing their job to restore his brain chemistry to normal levels, and his previous episodes lasted only an hour or two. Basically, it's a failsafe for his brain...something like a breaker in an electrical circuit protecting the whole system from frying. He might suddenly snap out of it, or look like he's waking up, except that he's not actually asleep."

"You've seen him like this before?"

"No, though the condition is not unfamiliar to me. Christian's last recorded episode was during adolescence, but Grace thinks it's possible he concealed incidents from her, too embarrassed to ask for help."

Yes, that sounds like Christian. And then I recall him saying something about this happening once during a scene with Elena. Desperate to prevent that image filling my mind, I comment, "He just swallowed those pills, like he'd never had a problem taking meds."

"Yes. As you see, he's able to follow simple instructions while in a stupor, including tasks he might normally struggle to perform. Don't worry, Ana, he's not suffering. At least, if he is, he won't remember anything when he comes out of it."

Grateful for that small mercy, I say, "I know there's a confidentiality thing about his therapy, so you don't need to reveal the details, but do you have any idea why the words 'speak not' would cause this?"

"As far as you're concerned, there is no confidentiality about Christian's treatment. He made that clear before the one time you joined him in session. And I'm sorry, but that's another question I cannot answer, though I'd venture a guess that it has something to do with his early childhood."

I worked that much out for myself. Flynn will be feeling bad about this, so I smile, and joke, "Not much use, are you?"

With a sad laugh, he agrees, "Not today." After a moment, he continues, "Once he's fully recovered, we can try hypnosis. Christian wouldn't contemplate it, before now. But he'll be desperate for answers, and there are probably several locked up in his subconscious."

I presume that Christian's trust issues are the reason he's reluctant to give that much power even to his therapist. "You know someone who can do that?"

"I am that someone. It's actually quite straightforward, though obviously not to be taken lightly, especially when dealing with mental illness."

I nod my understanding, and say, "Well, for now, I just want him back."

"Of course. In the meantime, you need to consider your own health, and that of your baby."

I know what he's suggesting, and he's right, but there's simply no way I'm leaving Christian alone like this. "I'm not tired."

His tone gentle, Flynn explains, "Antihistamines are considered safe during pregnancy, and will help you sleep. I can sit with Christian, at least until his mother gets here."

As if these words have magically summoned her, I hear Grace greeting Taylor, where he stands guard outside the room. It only now occurs to me that, if she's been visiting her youngest son every week since he left home, then she's probably had time to become friends with his main bodyguard. On Flynn's instructions, visitors are to be kept to a minimum, but he suggested that 'the presence of Christian's mother might actually prove beneficial'. I smile, on remembering him using exactly that phrasing. He often uses more words than is necessary. "Maybe later. Thank you, John."

"All right. I'll update Grace on the way out. Are you allergic to any medication?"

I guess he's going to fetch something for me right now. "Uh, Benadryl worked when I was a kid."

"You had trouble sleeping as a child?"

I really don't want to answer such questions right now, perhaps not ever. "We in session, John?"

"Sorry, habit. I won't be long."

"Thank you."

I hear him talking to Grace, but not what is said. And then she's striding towards me, saying only, "Ana." It's amazing how such a small word can contain so much feeling. I stand, and offer a hug, which she readily accepts.

When she kisses my cheek, I feel that she's weeping, so I promise, "It's okay. He's not suffering."

She wipes the moisture from my cheek, and whispers, "How are you so strong?"

"I'm not always. Fortunately, Christian and I are getting good at taking it in turns. We only have a problem when we're strong at the same time."

She breathes a shadow of a laugh, and says, "I imagine all couples do."

For some reason that reminds me, "Christian says he's never known you and Carrick to argue."

"I'm glad. In fact, we do occasionally argue. But we made the choice to spare the children raised voices. Elliot is sensitive to it, Christian even more so." When I merely nod, she suggests, "John says you'll consider resting, if I stay with Christian?"

I sit down, and reclaim my husband's limp hand. "It's early yet."

She seems to understand that there's no point pressing the issue. I hear a chair scraping on the floor, and then my free hand is in both of hers, and she says, "When you're ready, there's a recliner in the corner. I'm sure Jason would be happy to move it next to the bed, so you can hold Christian's hand while you sleep." I don't know why it's this simple courtesy that means I'm able to cry for the first time since Christian disappeared. Grace's arm is around my shoulders before the tears have even left my eyes, and she vows, "It's all right, Ana, he'll return to us very soon."

I wipe the moisture from my face, and reveal, "When John said that you might be able to help, I assumed he meant with Christian."

She kisses my temple, and keeps her arm around me, as she says, "No, my darling, Christian doesn't need me right now. He's just taking a time out. The hard part is seeing him helpless."

I nod, and my voice is so soft that even I can barely hear it, when I agree, "It seems so wrong, for him to be completely motionless."

Grace rubs my shoulder, and reveals, "Even as a child, he was hardly ever still. I'm sure you've noticed, that even in his sleep, he moves around a lot."

I actually manage a small laugh, and joke, "You think I see him sleep?"

"That was the same when he was a boy too. He probably thinks I don't know that, when I'd send him to bed, he'd read under the covers instead."

He'd read by torchlight? Something else we have in common. I smile, and explain, "He can't even sit down to watch TV for very long. We both like Game of Thrones, and he doesn't mind the audio description, so we technically could enjoy it together. But I had to stop watching it with him, because I'd be sitting on the sofa, and he'd be doing squats or lunges behind it, and only after I begged him to stop doing pushups in my eyeline. Obviously, all I could see was the movement, but even that and the sound was very distracting. I kept catching myself counting his efforts." Grace is laughing, as I complain, "You have no idea. He drives me crazy."

"Oh, I have some idea. When I'd take the children to the cinema, I'd have to make sure we were in the front row, so Christian could move around. Of course, it could only be when the theater was practically empty, or he'd have a meltdown anyway. Either that, or get us kicked out by loudly demanding that everyone be quiet."

We're both laughing, when Christian asks, "What's so funny?"

Ana has barely spoken since we left the hospital, merely claiming one arm and resting her head on my shoulder. As Taylor pulls into the garage, I wonder if she's fallen asleep, but she lifts her head, and breathes, "Home."

"Until the house is ready, which won't be for months yet. Sure you're okay, baby?"

"I will be. I'm just glad you're back."

She's insisted that I don't apologize, though the urge remains. Instead, I suggest, "How about I run you a bath?"

Her smile suggests that she knows how much I need to pamper her right now, but she merely says, "Bath would be lovely, thank you."

Even Taylor seems subdued, as he escorts us to the elevator. He knew to watch out for my disappearing act, but this is the first time he's witnessed it, though I'm sure he's seen similar, from when he was in the military. I only then think to ask, "Oh, who's upstairs?" He would have had to call someone in, to take his place while he drove Ana to the hospital.

"Reynolds, sir."

"Thanks. And, thank you, for earlier."

"Any time, sir."

As the doors close, Ana asks, "Do I know Reynolds?"

"You met him on the roof, your first visit."

"Oh, right. Why haven't I seen him since?"

"He's been on leave for a while. And I try to make sure you have a female CPO when in public, to avoid any breach of social niceties."

"You're still upset, about disappearing."

Of course I am; it must have been hell for her. "How can you tell?"

She waves a hand in front of her, and says, "You're usually turned on in elevators, so that I can practically feel it crackling in the air."

We're slowing to a stop, so I don't have time to remedy that lapse, and instead suggest, "Well, if you're okay with some company in the bath, I'll see what I can do about the crackle."

As the doors open, she consents, "I'm okay with that."

I'm clean, and reclining against Christian, in a bath the correct temperature for a growing fetus, when he pleads, "Tell me what happened?"

I know what he's asking, and remind him, "John says not to push it. There's a reason you can't recall what triggered the catatonia."

He kisses my shoulder, and attempts, "It's okay. I'm strong. I've accepted that it must be something to do with the fucker who abused me, to provoke such a drastic response. I'm sure it was just the shock. I don't even think about him much anymore, since meeting you."

I rub his arm, and say, "I'm glad. But, please, I've had a hell of an evening, and would rather not go through that again."

He's quiet for a while, idly caressing my arms, and then says, "The last thing I remember is fucking you on the dining table. That was fun."

Seems as if he'll stop pursuing it, for now. I relax, and agree, "Oh, yes." Deciding that it can't hurt, I reveal, "Though I forgot, in my panic, that my panties were on the floor beside you. That's two apologies I owe Taylor now."

Christian laughs, and says, "Don't worry, baby, I'll up his bonus this year. Not that I doubted it, but I'm thrilled he looked after you, when I could not."

"He was my rock. I was freaking out, and him being so calm brought me back. Gail was lovely too, making me a cup of tea while we waited for the ambulance. And Grace, as always, lived up to her name. I thought she was there to help bring you back, but she was really there to keep me from falling apart." His hands are still caressing up and down my arms, so I'm not very worried, but he's quiet long enough that I beg, "Christian?"

He hugs me around the top of my chest, and confesses, "I'm struggling with the thought of being a burden to you."

I wrap my arms around his, and insist, "You're not. And, if you were, that would be okay too. I'll take you however I can get you, Mr. Grey. That much has always been true." When he's suddenly urging me away from him, I again ask, "Christian?"

He's helping me to my feet, as he says, "Come on, let's get into bed, so I can take you."

It will suffice.

Almost a week has passed since Christian was in hospital. Though the gaps in his memory haven't filled in, he seems okay. But I know very well that him seeming calm doesn't mean he is. Strangely, he's back to being unable to swallow pills, but he's responding well to the new meds, once they're dissolved in juice. We're eating dinner, and I'm wondering if it will soon be safe to discuss what happened that night, when he says, "Levi finishes rehab tomorrow. How about a small celebration, this weekend?"

I smile, and ask, "You want him to celebrate his sobriety, by going out for drinks?"

He chuckles, and says, "Hardly. No, I was thinking a weekend in Aspen? I thought he might like to just relax for a couple of days, before launching into a sober life. Flynn approves. I've already checked; Kate and José are on board. I presume Elliot and Mia would like to tag along, if they're free. And I can ask the Bentleys to make sure the place is dry for the duration, if necessary."

Remembering that Mia is still keen, but would probably be shy about asking, I check, "Can Ethan come too?"

"Of course. Though he'll have to squeeze in with José and Levi, as there are only four bedrooms."

I smile, that Mia would probably be fine to share a bedroom with Ethan, but decide not to reveal that thought, instead commenting, "I'm not sure you're using 'only' correctly, darling."

He laughs, and says, "For Aspen, it's not that grand."

"I'll take your word for it. I think it's a wonderful idea, thank you. Not a complaint. I so far don't regret a single moment of being with you. But I don't see much of my friends anymore." I shrug, and add, "Maybe that would have happened anyway, as part of growing up."

"Maybe."

One-word answers are a bad sign. He hasn't disappeared again, but I know him well enough to guess that he's still struggling to accept that episode, and the fact that his enemies have become mine. "What are you thinking?"

When he doesn't reply, I put down my knife and fork, and wait. He sighs, and reveals, "That maybe you would be better off if Kate hadn't been sick that day." When I'm incapable of replying, he eventually asks, "Ana?"

Furious tears burning my eyes, I tell him, "Christian, if you want me to leave, all you have to do is say so."

"What? Of course I don't want you to leave. Why would you even suggest that?"

"Well, I don't think it's a very good sign for our marriage when, barely a month into it, you're wishing you'd never met me."

"That's not...I didn't mean..." He takes another deep breath, and says, "I know that bad things happened to you before we got together, but you have to agree that you'd be a smaller target, if you weren't my wife."

"I'm still here, Christian, and I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you ask it of me."

His voice is small, when he admits, "I'm not sure that I could."

Releasing all my emotion in one, trembling breath, I demand, "Then no more of such talk. You're stuck with me."

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"I've angered you."

"I'll get over it." We're understandably quiet, as we finish our meal. I can only imagine what a strain he's under, convinced that I'm at risk because of him, so I let him help me from my chair, as usual. "Thank you, darling."

Instead of taking my hand, his arms encircle me, and he asks, "We're okay?"

I rest my palms on his chest, and assert, "Yes. I know that me being in danger is a hard limit for you."

His tone is gentle, when he asks, "Do you know why you got so angry?"

Only as he asks, do I understand. "You scared me."

"By suggesting that you'd be better off without me?"

My eyes are burning again, and my brain is threatening to leave the building, afraid of what I'm about to say. When I try to leave Christian's embrace, his arms become iron, and I'm too upset to demand my freedom. The tears are finally falling, as I explain, "You're so strong. I just suddenly got worried that you might find the strength to push me away, and...and I'm not sure I'd cope."

I'm really weeping now, and he cradles me to his chest. Other than one moment of weakness in the hospital, I haven't cried about any of the drama. This torrent of grief suggests that I'm overdue. I eventually calm down, to notice that Christian is caressing circles on my back. It's always such a comfort. He kisses the top of my head, and says, "Back at you."

At first confused, I soon realize he means, "You can't live without me, either?"

"I presume Flynn would argue the point, but even contemplating losing you threatens to undo every step I've made towards wellness since meeting you."

I wipe my face, and suggest, "Then maybe stop imagining life without me, and instead focus on getting better, so we can vanquish our enemies, and live happily ever after?"

He chuckles, sending warm vibrations through my body, and agrees, "Good plan."

This one time, Christian doesn't ask what sort of sex I'd like, somehow knowing to be tender. Or maybe it's what he wants too. And he's always generous. So, although the sex is gentle, my orgasm is a violence of pleasure, that removes me from this world, and floats me back down to it, where I become aware that he's still inside me, and still hard. Most of his weight is held from me, and I can feel that his hands are either side of my head. I then realize, "Did you just watch me come?"

"Oh, yes. Best view in the world."

"You always watch me?"

"If I can stay in control enough." He rolls us, so that we're on our side, still joined, and asks, "Does it bother you?"

"No, I guess not. If anything, I'm jealous. Other than the obvious...uh, moisture content and subsequent waning, it's hard to even know when you've had an orgasm."

His constant caresses stop, and he asks, "You want me to vocalize?"

"Not if you don't want to. I'm sorry."

He resumes caressing me, and says, "No, it's not you. I just...I've learned to be quiet."

Remembering that his first sexual partner was a married woman, who had other reasons to keep their affair secret, I guess, "Elena?"

"Yeah."

This is never a subject that we can easily discuss, so I force it from my mind, and then push at his shoulder. He takes the hint, and rolls us again, so that I'm now on top, even as he asks, "Ana?"

"Louder."

It takes him a moment to work it out, but then he cheerfully obeys, "Ana."

I start moving along the length of him, and again command, "Louder."

His hands are clasping my hips, and his voice is strained, as he declares his love for me with, "Anastasia."

I start alternating between riding up and down, and grinding in a circle, as I rather breathlessly joke, "I can't hear you."

He's matching my movements now, and exclaims, "Oh, fuck, I love fucking you!"

I gasp a laugh, and lean forward to kiss him, before instructing, "Prove it."

I'm expecting him to take control of the pace—he's always able to move so much faster than I can—instead, I'm suddenly on my belly, and he enters me again, saying, "As you wish, wife." My arms are spread out, and trapped by iron fingers threaded through mine, my legs are entwined by his, my body weighed down by him, and he asks, "Okay?"

Something about being totally subjugated like this is incredibly erotic, for both of us, it seems. I can literally feel him getting harder inside me. "Almost."

He doesn't need more encouragement than that, and pounds into me, faster than seems possible. Seconds later, I cry out, as an even more intense orgasm sunders me. Christian calls out my name, as he holds himself deep inside me. And then he collapses onto me, but only for a moment, soon lifting some of his weight from me, and freeing my limbs, to ask, "Okay, baby?"

I reach back, and stroke his hair, saying, "Better than okay. What about you?"

"That was the best."

I smile, and say, "I'm glad." And then ask, "Wait, do you mean best ever?"

He kisses my cheek, and promises, "Best ever."

Genuinely moved by this, I nevertheless tease, "And you didn't even need the whips and chains."

His cheek is now resting against mine, so I feel him smile, and he says, "I only needed them, because I hadn't met you. You're not the only one who's waited their whole life for what we have."

Moments later, I'm snuggled against his chest, and he's caressing my back while I calm myself, eventually able to take a trembling breath, and assure him, "I'm okay."

He kisses my forehead, and counters, "No, you're incredible."

I wipe the happy tears from my face, and settle against him, but soon have to say, "I need to pee."

He chuckles, and releases me, saying, "Your bladder has no consideration for romance."

I head to the bathroom, saying, "True, and it's only going to get worse. From what I've read, I'll need to pee every twenty minutes when Blip is about to appear."

"That reminds me, we need to discuss names."

I laugh, and agree, "I guess so. Not even the Grey name could survive our child being christened Little Blip."

"Mmm." He sounds so sleepy, that I wonder if he'll be awake when I return.

In fact, Christian is asleep when I return from the en suite, but stirs while I'm getting into bed. Only as I move into his arms, do I notice that he's tense. "Christian?"

"I remember."

"The trigger?"

"Yeah. It was the graffiti, right?"

"Do you need Flynn?"

He holds me tighter, and says, "Just you." After a deep breath, he continues, "I checked last week; the fucker who abused me spent thirteen years in prison, and seven years on parole. He's been an effectively free man for a while now."

"He's still in Detroit?"

He hesitates a few moments, to reveal, "No one knows."

When a shiver runs through me, I know that it's nothing to do with walking around naked. "So, it could be him?"

"Or someone who's talked to him. Though I still don't know what the graffiti means. Now that I've safely remembered it, Flynn will wean me off the meds, and do the hypnosis. Hopefully, we'll know what we're dealing with then."

He sounds okay, so I merely snuggle against him, saying, "For now, sleep."

"Yes, ma'am." I'm almost asleep, when he asks, "You really think I'm strong?"

I smile, and reach around, to caress his back muscles, as I say, "In every sense of the word." I should have probably realized what effect that would have on his body. I squirm away from his growing erection, saying, "Oh, no. I'm exhausted."

He laughs, and lets me retreat, saying, "You know, considering how this evening started, it's actually turned out pretty well."

I'd totally forgotten that he'd made me so angry earlier. "I guess this was makeup sex?"

"I guess so. In that case, I don't feel so bad about upsetting you."

All I can manage, is to agree, "Mmm."

I feel the gentle caress of his knuckles on the side of my arm, before he says, "Sweet dreams, my love."

Barely conscious, I marvel, "I'm your love."

He rests the back of his hand against my arm, as if he needs just the slightest of contact between us. And I fall asleep to him vowing, "Yes, you are. Only you, Anastasia."