A/N: I do not own the characters. They belong to E.L. James. This is just for fun.

In the CCU 20 Years Later-Both POV

Ana's POV:

It's been seventy two hours since Carrick's bypass surgery. We've been sitting in the Cardiac Care Unit family sitting room, waiting for an update. Carrick had some unexpected complications and has developed an infection. He was already weak from the surgery and his breathing was labored. He's been put under light sedation, as they have a breathing tube inserted down his throat to help him breath and allow his body the opportunity to rest and heal.

It's been touch and go. Poor Grace. She's putting up a brave front, but I see the worry behind her eyes. It's a blessing and a curse to be a doctor in a situation like this. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. I know they're concerned about his kidneys and are watching his blood work in hopes that he won't require the dialysis machine as well.

Elliot has been using humor as a coping mechanism; cracking a joke here and there. He's trying to keep the atmosphere light for the rest of us...or maybe for himself. But he's not fooling anyone. I see the sadness in his face. He's worried for his Dad. Kate's been at his side, holding his hand and humoring him.

Mia has been on her laptop dealing with her anxiousness the best way she can; internet shopping therapy. That's going to be some American Express bill they get. I see her dab her eyes with a tissue every so often. Even shopping can't make this better. Ethan has been talking to their kids on his cell phone, reassuring them that their Grandpa is hanging on. Their kids are young and it's hard for them to understand all of this.

Christian has set up his office in the corner of the waiting room. Occasionally, we can hear him yell at someone on his blackberry and I have to quietly remind him that we're in a hospital. His nerves are completely frayed. I suspect Andrea has clued in some of his colleagues of Carrick's condition, so they probably expect the wrath of Christian. When he's not yelling at someone, he's closed up and very quiet. This is Christian. He's both fierce and angry or completely shut down and internalizing everything.

He's been barking at doctors, nurses, anyone wearing scrubs. I know his need to take control of this situation is gnawing at him because there's no way he can control this. This is a situation that has spiraled and there's nothing we can do but wait. He has to rely on time to dictate what happens.

Carrick's team of doctors come out and tells us that he's holding his own. No changes in his status. I supposed no news is better than bad news.

I have been trying to convince Christian that he should talk to Carrick, even though he's sedated. I believe that Carrick can hear us and that will help him heal. If something unthinkable did happen and Christian didn't speak to his Dad, it will haunt him forever. We hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I don't know if Christian will listen to me. I hope so.

After a few hours, I need to go home and see Phoebe. I want to be sure I'm there for her. She's very close to her Grandfather. Another man she has wrapped around her finger.

~~~~~~xxx~~~~~~~~

"Mom, I can't take it. I'm going to scream at Dad when he gets home"

"Phoebe, what's wrong?"

"He's so overbearing. I can't take it. He's dictating when I come home from school. He's constantly checking that my security is with me. I wanted to go to the mall with my friends and he refuses to let me go. I'm not a child Mom. He can't control every thing I do" Phoebe angrily vents her frustrations.

Sigh. How do I explain this? I completely understand her point. When Christian is in crisis, he's need for control trumps everything else. It's the only way he can function.

"Pheebs. Grandpa's heath issues have rocked your Dad. This is a situation that he has no control over and he trying to deal with it the best he can. I know right now Daddy is being …unreasonable…but because we love him we have to set aside our own needs and allow him this, so he can regain some control of what little he can."

"But Mom, it's not fair. Why do we have to live under his dictatorship? We're all going through the same thing with Grandpa. I don't see you barking out orders and forbidding me to do things."

"When you love someone, you make sacrifices for them. We put aside our needs for the sake of the one who needs it the most. We do this is for your Father because it's what he needs right now. Phoebe, just give this to him. He worries about the people he loves and this is his way of dealing with that. Until things with Grandpa settle down, please just give this to your Father. "

"Is Grandpa going to die Mom?"

Sigh.

"I believe he'll come through this but I don't know for sure, baby girl. All we can do is stay positive and give Grandpa some time to heal. And while your grandfather is healing, we allow your Dad to be his usual overbearing self, without giving him any grief about it, because we love him and don't want to give him anything else to worry about. Can you do that for him?"

"I suppose I can. Alright Mom, I won't give Dad any arguments…until grandpa is better. Then all bets are off."

"Thank you Phoebe."

~~~~xxx~~~~

Christian arrives home from the hospital looking exhausted.

"Can I get you something to eat?"

"No thank you baby. We brought in food to the hospital. I ate. I have a few phone calls to make and some work to do then I'm going to take a shower and head straight to bed."

He goes off to his study. My poor man, so many balls in the air. There's so much for him to handle at one time. He looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

Two hours later he's out of the shower and ready to call it a day.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No. Thank you. I'm ok. Just need some rest"

"Ok. I love you"

"I love you too baby"

He kisses me goodnight and shuts the light on his night stand.

~~~~xxx~~~~~

I wake up to find Christian is gone from our bed. I glance over at the alarm clock. It's 2:00 am. I get out of bed, slip on my silk robe and look for him.

I find him playing the piano in the great room. Only the moonlight beaming through the windows is lighting the room. I walk over toward him. He doesn't look up and says nothing. He slides over on the piano bench making room for me and continues to play, never stopping. I quietly sit next to him and rest my head on edge of his shoulder as I close my eyes and listen to the sad melancholy song he's playing so beautifully. When he finishes the song, he starts it again. He's clearly trying to work out his tormented thoughts, his fears, himself. I continue to sit silently, listening to the music.

When he finishes the song he turns to me and lightly kisses to top of my head. We say nothing.

Sometimes you don't need words.

He stands up and holds out his hand to me. I place my hand in his and stand. We wrap our arms around each other's waist and silently walk back to our bedroom.

I'm lying on my side when Christian joins me in our bed. He slides in behind me on his side, wrapping his arms around my waist. I turn over until I'm flat on my back and look into his eyes. I reach over and caress his face, running my fingers across his coarse stubble. He looks deeply into my eyes...it's like he's trying to see into my soul…or his. I'm not sure. He tenderly kisses me then pulls me upright, I lift my arms and he removes my silk nightgown. All the while, we continue our eye contact, never breaking the connection. I know this look. This is not about sex. This is a man in desperate need, a man seeking comfort. Solace. Intimacy. Love.

He quickly removes his pajama bottoms and boxers and lifts himself over me. He enters me and moves slowly, deeply, lovingly. I tilt my hips up to him, feeling him pour himself inside of me. The depth of the love we share consumes us. We become one. It's overwhelming. We find our release together. He softly kisses my lips then the tip of my nose.

He moves next to me and hold me tightly in his arms. We silently fall asleep wrapped in each other.

~~~~xxx~~~~

Christian's POV:

I arrive at the CCU before anyone else. I'm surprised my Mother isn't here. She must be talking with Dad's doctors. Ana has been telling me that I should talk to him. Say what needs to be said …just in case. She believes he'll gain strength by hearing his family around him. She does have some experience with that I suppose, as she's always maintained that she was able to hear us when she was unconscious years ago.

Oh, what the fuck. I'll go.

I quietly open the door to his room. The heart monitor must have the sound off, all I see are his heart beat and oxygen levels displayed. He has the IV's attached to him. There are a few bags of medications and saline hanging from the IV stand. And that fucking tube taped to his mouth, going down his throat. I can hear the ventilator breathing for him. In and out in and out, hissing like someone putting air in a tire then deflating it again. Over and over. . I fucking hate that sound. While the sane side of me knows this is all to help him, I fucking hate seeing it

"Christ Dad. You're the strong one in the family. I hate this. Ana thinks I should talk to you. She believes you hear us. I don't know if that's true. You know I'm not much of a talker, but there are some things...things that I need to say. "

Why is this so hard for me to do? He's my Father for fucks sake; it shouldn't be so difficult to tell him how I feel. I take a deep breath and continue.

"I...I just want to say...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Dad. I'm sorry I was always so difficult. I know it wasn't easy for you and Mom to deal with me and my issues. I was always expecting to get kicked out...I sure as fuck deserved to be. But you never did. You kept the faith in me when I had none in myself. From the first day I came to live with you, you showed me nothing but love and I always managed to fuck it up. I was resentful when I should have been grateful that you saved my life and adopted me. I know I always let you down. I know you had to pull in a lot of favors to get me into school after school when I got kicked out for fighting. I was just so fucking angry all the time. I know you and Mom tried to help me find ways to overcome it but I was such a fucking little prick, I never accepted it. I don't know how I can make up for all the heartache you endured because of me.

I know you never thought your opinion mattered much to me, but I value it more than you know. I always have...even when I sat in the chair across your desk as a teenager, while you were giving me yet another 'Christian fucked up' lecture… while I hated listening, deep down I guess I knew you were right.

I'm sorry for all the disappointment. I know you love me. I've spent most of my adult life trying to make it up to you, make you proud. I know I have acquired a lot, but I never really knew if you were proud of me…or just impressed that your fucked up kid could make a successful business. . Are you proud of me, Dad?

Don't die, Dad. Please. Mom needs you. We all need you. I still need to make you proud of me. I love you Dad."

I kiss his forehead and leave.

~~~xxx~~~~

I had some issues at the office that I had to physically be there for so I left the hospital for a few hours, as I was assured my Father was stable.

When I returned to the hospital, I see my Mother…beaming.

"Mom?"

"Oh Christian! His blood count has drastically improved. The infection has cleared. They've removed the breathing tube and he's breathing on his own. He's been taken off the sedation. He's awake and groggy, but he's good. The doctors are very pleased with his progress."

She hugs me so tight, I can hardly breathe. I let out a long sigh.

"Thank fuck. Did you see him? Have you told Elliot and Mia?"

"Yes, called them. I was about to call you when you showed up here. I have seen him, for a little while. The tubes have made his throat sore, so it's difficult for him speak. But he's aware of his surroundings. He's going to be fine. He's going to be just fine, darling." Her smile could light up a country.

My Mother and I go into my Father's hospital room. It's difficult to witness a man so strong, looking so frail. But he's here and that's what matters. There are no tubes down his throat and he's sleeping. Relief rushes over me. I put my arm around my Mother. She leans into me, grinning.

We both sit quietly for a while watching him sleep. Suddenly he opens his eyes and looks over at us.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Dad"

"It's so good to see you awake again, Darling. I'm going to call one of the nurses to get your meds in order. I'll be right back Cary"

My Dad looks at her and nods. His eyes start to close again and it is obvious he needs his rest.

"Dad, I can see you need your rest. I'll leave you for now and come back later when you're up for company. Rest now"

As I start to leave I feel him grabbing for me. I turn and look at him. His hand is weakly motioning me to come down to him. It's clear he's trying to communicate something

I lower my head to hear him. "What is it Dad? Do you need something?"

He says in a weak hoarse whisper "I have always been proud of you, son"