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Sins of the father

Chapter 22

Teddy Bears

Christian's POV

I hold her picture in my hand. Its clearer than the one pinned in my room. Her dark brown hair hangs well below the collar of her denim jacket. Her gray eyes look out at the camera from a very young face.

It never registered just how young she was before. She is much younger than I am right now.

I see Mia's gentle spirit in her and Ana's amazement of the world. This was clearly taken before life took its toll on her.

For the first time I wonder at who took the picture. Who exactly was she staring at with those trusting eyes?

I don't know how long I stand there studying her before hearing Gail's voice behind me.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Grey," she says.

"Not at all Gail," I tell her, putting the picture away and quickly closing the safe.

I sit back down behind my desk as if I wasn't about to prove or disprove a life altering event.

"I just wanted to let you know that little Christian is dressed and playing in the media room. He knows where we all are if he needs anything."

"Thank you for helping out with him. I want you to know that I won't ask that of you too often," I assure her. "I know its not part of what you signed on to do around here. I'll start to interview and find a nanny to look after him while I'm working."

"Oh no, Sir," she balks at the idea. "I don't mind looking after him."

One thing about Gail, she is very territorial.

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," I tell her. "There aren't many people I trust with the task."

"Oh, no. It wouldn't be a bother at all."

"I'm sure you're just being kind," I tell her, feeling uneasy about burdening her.

"Not at all, Sir. It will be just the excuse I need to get out of the daily bridge games I've been trying to back out of."

"Is that so?"

This is the first I'm hearing of this.

"Ruth Gainer invites us all over," she explains. "She's the house manager for the Kramer's down on the 8th floor. The invites have become a pain in my side."

"Why is that," I ask.

I mentally make a note just in case I have to deal with someone doing Gail wrong. I'll have to address it personally to whomever it is before Taylor gets wind of it.

"All they do is gossip," she exclaims. "And Ruth can't keep house to save her life. She leaves dirty dishes in the sink and I don't know when the last time those floors had a good cleaning. There are scuff marks all over the place. Drives me mad. Can you imagine being paid to manage the house, only to have it looking like that? And then to invite fellow coworkers around to witness your poor work ethic. Its just not right. Honestly, it offends me."

"Clearly," I tell her, trying hard not to crack a smile at her rant of indignation. "Why don't you just decline the invitations?"

"Oh no, I couldn't do that. I don't want to be a snob."

"Of course not," I laugh.

"I'm glad you understand. Little Christian will be a perfect distraction for me."

"I'll speak with Taylor to ensure your change in pay."

"You already are very generous in pay considering what little I have to do around here. I swear you make no mess at all."

"Unlike the Kramers," I joke.

"No, nothing like them," she laughs.

"Be careful what you wish for. We have a five-year-old that I'm sure will make his share of messes when he's more comfortable in his new home."

"Oh, those little messes are cute," she says. I swear the woman is a saint. "And before I forget, Taylor wanted me to tell you that he's downstairs handling the delivery of Christian's fort."

"Why didn't he just have it brought up?"

"He said the service it was ordered from wasn't vetted."

"He's vetting delivery services now?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she grins.

"Since when?"

"Ohhh, since about the time a five-year-old started living here. He's already thinking of new CPOs and the safety measures Mr. Welch suggested, but he'll want to discuss that with you himself."

I nod thanking her again before she sees herself out.

My phone starts to ring and I smile at the face showing up on my caller ID.

"I was just about to call you," I tell her.

"I should hope so," she scolds. "I had to hear from your brother that you were back home."

"Time got away from me, Mom."

"Its alright, Dear. I understand. I'm just glad you're back safe and sound and whatever had you taking off in such a hurry was taking care of. Everything is alright now, I hope."

"Everything is alright, but I need to see you and the rest of the family. Perhaps we can have dinner here tonight. I'll have Gail prepare something."

Silence.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry, Christian. I was just taken aback for a moment," she says. "If you need us to come over, your father and I can come now. I'll call him and we can meet up over there."

"No Mom, its alright. It can wait for dinner tonight. Elliot is already bringing Mia over."

"Its nothing too urgent then?"

"No, Mom. Its wonderful news, actually, but I'm afraid you'll have to see it to believe it."

"See it," she says and I smile at the phone. She sounds excited. Like a kid at Christmas. "Is it Ana?"

"Ana? Why would you think so?"

"She's here in town," she says. "We're getting together later today to go over wedding plans. I just thought maybe she was the reason. The thing you want us to see."

"No, Mom. Its not about Ana. But enjoy your wedding planning. I'm sure this wedding will be an unforgettable affair with you involved."

"You know I live for event planning and nothing is worthier than my child's wedding, you know that, right?"

"I'll see you tonight, mom," I tell her, getting her off the phone. I knew exactly where she was headed with that conversation. I remember how disappointed she was when Ana left. I think up until then, she held out hope that she and I would work things out.

My eyes glance back over to the safe before I catch sight of Taylor at the door. I wave him in.

"Sir," he says sitting down. "The fort is ready to be assembled in the great room. Unless, you prefer to have it in his playroom."

"No, the great room is perfect for it, Taylor. Thank you for overseeing the delivery of it."

"Of course, Sir."

"Gail tells me you're thinking about a CPO for Christian. What about Sawyer? He tops my list."

"Sawyer was on my list as well, but he is reluctant to take the job."

"I thought he liked kids."

"He loves them, Sir."

"Then what's the problem? I know he isn't happy twiddling his thumbs at GEH."

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Certainly."

"Luke doesn't want to get his cheerios pissed in again."

"By who?"

"His last charge was Miss Steele and you were extremely…hands on when it came to his duties pertaining to her."

"I was 'hands on' you say?"

"Extremely, Sir," he emphasizes. "It only stands to reason that with your son, you will be even more…extremely hands on with his safety. As well you should be."

"I wasn't THAT demanding when it came to Ana. He's fucking exaggerating. Right?"

Taylor sits silently counting the number of pens I have in their holders on my desk.

The crickets aren't even chirping right now.

"Point taken," I tell him. "Who else is on the list?"

"Sawyer has a brother. A young one. He just turned twenty."

"Twenty?"

"Yes, Sir. Grant Sawyer is his name. He just finished his Quantico training at the top of his class."

"How the hell did he get in Quantico already?"

"He's a smart ass, Sir, literally. Obtained his Masters at eighteen."

"Shit," I say, impressed. "Why the hell would he want to be in charge of a five-year-old as ambitious as he sounds?"

"He's only twenty and still very much a momma's boy."

"I thought Luke was the momma's boy?"

"He is, but Grant is the baby of the family. Mrs. Sawyer isn't ready for him leave the nest just yet. Having her sons working together will ease her mind and having Luke rein him in will help Grant out in the field later."

"Is he qualified for the task of handling kids?"

"He is in my opinion. He's a big kid himself. He's a jokester, but he is damn serious about his job. Think of Sawyer on LSD."

"Will his personality match my son's?"

"I think they'll get along. Grant's into comic books. The kid goes to Comic-con every year dressed as the Flash. It'll be easier for Little Christian to relate to him than any of our more seasoned officers. He's young enough so not to be too intimidating to him, but old enough to where he knows he has to listen to him when the times call for it. I highly recommend him."

"And I trust your judgement. Offer him the job.

"Very good, Sir."

"By the way, Gail has offered to look after him while I'm at work."

"I'm not surprised," he says. "She's already quite taken with him."

"Make sure her pay reflects her added duties. No matter how much she protests."

"Will do, Sir and Sophie is excited about meeting him."

"How is she doing?"

"Much better. The iPhone you upgraded her with last month was a bit much though."

"Nonsense. Her old phone was for dinosaurs and she needs to be able to call you."

"Tell that to her mother. She's mad because she still can't afford one."

"Added bonus," I tell him with a smirk.

"Right you are, Sir," he grins.

"Mr. Grey," I hear Gail call. Its unusual for her to do so. I get up to see what the matter is. Taylor is right behind me.

She's coming from the media room, a red race car in hand.

"What happened? Where's Christian," I ask, looking beyond her.

"He broke his car," she says. "He thinks you'll be angry with him. I tried to tell him it would be okay, but he ran off. He's afraid you'll punish him."

I take the car and inspect it. One of the wheels has come off.

"Would you like me to talk to him," she offers.

"I'll take care of it," I tell her. She hesitates. I know her concern is I'll say the wrong thing to scare him more. Judging by her reaction, he must have been terrified to start with. Images of old childhood fears surface in my mind before I'm able to push them down again. I wish I had a Gail back then to ward off my punishments. I shake off the smell of cigarette smoke before I address her again. "I'll call you if I need you, Gail."

She smiles with a nod.

I head upstairs, knowing instantly he's run off to hide under his bed.

It's the place I would go. It's the place I went when I was afraid. Only it was my Mother's bed, the only one in our tiny apartment. I remember sleeping in it with her sometimes. On those rare nights when she wasn't whoring herself.

I walk the hall to his bedroom. The smell of cigarette smoke invades my senses again, this time with a hint of burning flesh added in.

"Come out from under there, you little bastard."

"Leave me alone. Mommy help me."

Jesus Christ. Now is not the time for this shit. Get out of my head, you sick son of a bitch.

I stand in the doorway of my son's room forcing the pimp to recede to the back of my mind.

"Christian," I call his name, bending down at the cubby hole door of his bed. I call his name again as I slide it open.

He's huddled as far as he can go against the wall. He's teddy bear is covering his face but I can tell by the sounds he's making that he's crying.

"I'm sorry I broke it. I didn't mean to."

"Its fine. Can you come out and talk to me?"

He shakes his head

"I'm not mad at you. I just want to show you something about your racecars. Will you come out and play with me for a moment?"

He peeks out from behind the circled brown ear of his bear and I smile at him so wide and exaggerated that my cheeks poke my eyes.

"Kay," he sniffs and I move out of his way so he can crawl out.

I go over to his toy chest and take out a few more racing cars and their accessories. I sit them in front of him before picking up the one he thought he broke.

"The wheels are supposed to come off so that you can replace them with different ones," I explain to him.

Drying his eyes, he looks at me in awe has I replace the old wheels of his car with even bigger ones and hand it to him.

"Whoa," he whispers, as he pushes it along the track of his floor mat, seeing that it moves even smoother and faster now.

"I used to break toys all the time," I tell him, as I roll another car with him. I'm hoping to make it sound like its not a big deal, but I'm unsure if my tone is conveying the message.

"Your mommy and daddy hit you?"

"Never. Your Grandma Grace and Grandpa Carrick would replace them for me."

"They did?"

"Unless I broke them on purpose, meaning not by accident. Then they wouldn't," I laugh at the memory. Often times that was the case. Jesus, how I tested them.

"You broke toys not by accident?"

I clear my throat. I don't want to give him any ideas.

"Christian, did Leila…did your mommy get mad at you when you broke your toys?"

He shakes his head.

"I never had toys."

"Never?"

He stops to think.

"Last time, she took me to see Santa and he gave me a book," he says, happily. "You could scratch and smell the pictures. The chocolate one smelled bad. Not like real chocolate. And he gave me a candy cane. Mommy didn't get mad at me a lot. She never hit me."

"That's good," I tell him. "Even if you had broken the toy, I wouldn't have hit you either."

"Even if I broke it not on accident?"

"Not even then," I laugh. "You'll probably break a lot of things. You'll probably spill things as well. That's usually what kids do. I don't want you to run and hide because of it. No one is going to hurt you for it."

"Kay."

"I won't allow anyone to ever hurt you."

"Because you're my daddy?"

"That's right."

After an hour, we tire of playing race cars and head downstairs for a snack. He stops short when he sees the fort all laid out in pieces for us to put together. In his dash to hide earlier, he must have missed it.

The snack is all but forgotten as we spend well over another two hours putting the damn thing together. I'm not sure that its right as it looks nothing like how it does on the box. I'll have to have Elliot fix the damn thing later but for now, its holding well enough.

Hands appear inside with food offering. We thank Gail as we take our sandwiches and eat them inside the fort.

Full from sub sandwiches and juice, I relax while Christian reads a story to me.

I must've fallen asleep because I'm back inside my old apartment.

The crack whore is sitting at the small kitchen table counting the money she's earned. Its late at night and the man she was with just gave her what he owed for fucking her before he left.

I can sense she's upset. Her legs are shaking as I sit underneath her chair.

I am greatly aware that my son is near and that I shouldn't be having this dream with him close by, but I am unable to wake up. The previous night without sleep has left me powerless to my nightmares. Fuck. Please don't let me lash out at him is my last coherent thought as I delve deeper into sleep.

"Mommy," I call to her.

"Not now," she answers me, telling me to be quiet. I listen to her, not saying a word as I sit below her, watching her legs bounce up and down.

The familiar knock on the door has her out of the chair and rushing towards it.

"Be good, okay," she warns me, nervously before opening it.

It's him. Her pimp. I feel my body responding as I lay sleeping. My head is tossing and turning.

He pushes the door open and comes inside, walking over to retrieve the money she left on the table.

"This all you got," he says, counting it. I move farther under the chair when I hear the anger in his voice. "You are fucking worthless."

I try to be still, to be good and stay quiet like mommy said to, but he hits her across the face.

"No," I yell out when she falls hard on the floor at his feet. Her gray eyes lock with mine.

Jesus. I can see her so clearly now, but she is nothing like she was on her picture. She is still so very young, but now she is afraid. She is so afraid.

"Ssshhh," she mouths to soothe me. I never knew she did that. Why hadn't I not seen her do that before?

"You want some of this too, you piece of shit?"

"No. No, he doesn't," she tells him.

"Its because of him you can't take your ass out on the street and make me some real money."

He flips the chair I was hiding underneath and it goes tumbling to its side behind me making me run.

I run to her room and hide deep under her bed, hoping against hope that he doesn't find me this time, but I know he will. He always does.

He bends to look under the bed, but I still can't see his face like I can now see my mother's. My mind won't let me see it.

"Mommy. Mommy, help me."

"Come here, you little bastard," he sneers, reaching for me and everything goes black.

I feel a small hand on my arm, shaking me.

"NO," I yell so loud that I wake myself up.

The fog of the dream clears in time for me to see my son taking his little hand off my arm and scooting away from me, teddy in hand. He's cuddling it to his chest.

"Where did he come from," I ask of the bear. I'm still out of breath and disoriented.

"I got him to help you with your bad dream," he says.

"Did I scare you with my dream?"

He shakes his head no.

"Thank you for waking me up," I tell him, wiping my face to rid it of the moisture that's accumulated there.

He nods.

"You can have my teddy," he says to me, placing his bear at my side. "My teddy will help make it better."

He looks at me with big gray eyes. The same ones my mother used to soothe me with. They are exactly her eyes. I remember them much clearer now.

"You know what I think," I ask him, swallowing the emotion lodged in my throat. He shakes his head no. "I think this teddy should stay with you because I already have my own."

"You do?"

"I have you. You are my teddy."

"I am?"

"You are. Having you as my son helps make it better."

"It does? I'm your Teddy Bear?"

"Yes, you are. You're my little Teddy Bear."

He covers his mouth with his hands before falling backwards on his pillow.

"I'm a Teddy Bear," he squeals with laughter.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading and reviewing.