Chapter Twenty-one

Ana puts her mug of tea down on the coffee table, that small movement enough to waken Christian's computer screen. Displayed is what looks like an x-ray of someone's head. When she looks to him for conformation, he nods and says, "Your MRI scan. McKay sent it to Grace already. Are you okay looking at it?"

"I guess so. And it's probably a good idea, because the whole 'brain tumor' thing doesn't quite seem real yet."

When Christian sits on the sofa and puts a cushion between his feet, Ana looks at him in surprise. Rolling his eyes, he says, "For your butt, sweetheart, not your knees. Though I like the way you're thinking."

Ana giggles and says, "Oh, right. Thank you."

Surrounded by the comfort of her husband – his face beside hers with one hand outstretched to operate the keypad and point things out where necessary – Ana sips her tea and gets a rare inside view of her brain. Suddenly struck by the similarities, she mumbles, "Two blips."

"Sorry?"

Blushing, worried that he'll think it's silly, she explains, "The baby; I call him Little Blip. And I just realized the tumor looks pretty similar…two blips."

Anger evident in his voice, Christian says, "Except that one we want and one we don't."

Worried about the vehemence of his response, Ana puts the now empty cup aside, shrugs and says, "They're both part of me for now. I'm not going to waste my time hating my own cells, no matter how they're behaving."

Christian is quiet for a while, and then says, "You're probably right. I've been thinking of this tumor as something that's happening to you. But it's actually happening in you, isn't it? And hating it isn't going to help either of us relax. All right, baby. But we need a different name for each. I'm not having my heir sharing a name with a potentially cancerous growth."

Her heart pounding, Ana points out, "You used the "C" word."

After a moment, Christian says, "Not really; I added 'ous' to it. But, yes, I'm…Mom helped me realize that it's not the end of the world. People survive this every day, and you will be one of them."

Smiling with pride at his courage, Ana says, "Yes, Sir."

Lifting her chin and thoroughly kissing her, Christian then tenderly scolds, "And cut that shit out. We haven't finished, and I've not fucked my wife in a very long time. So you're playing with fire, baby."

Her body alight with desire, Ana pleads, "Well, can't we fuck and then do my homework?"

Looking up at him, Ana can see Christian is wavering, passion evident in his gaze. But then he uses the gentle grip on her chin to point her face at the computer as he says, "No. First of all, when I get my hands on your body, the evening will effectively be over; we haven't yet had dinner and you need to watch your diet. Secondly, you need to know this stuff right now, because we don't know when the tumor might reach a size that causes problems. Just being pregnant may lead its growth rate to accelerate." Reaching for the folder McKay gave them, he puts a sheet of paper in Ana's hands and says, "When you've learned these, I'll ask Gail to serve dinner. We'll eat and then I'll fuck you."

"Oh, Dr. Greene…did you say her name is Pamela? She said that we can still play, but to avoid situations where I'm in a lot of fear or pain, because my body might get too stressed. I'm not sure what this tumor means for our sex life."

Effectively wrapped in Christian, Ana can actually feel his discomfort before he reveals, "Mom says we're good to go; just to make sure that my bonds are escapable in case you black out or have a seizure."

One hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the thought of Christian again discussing kink with his mother, Ana composes herself enough to ask, "Your bonds?"

His voice low, Christian pouts, "I didn't fucking ask her about this stuff…doubt I ever will. She just suddenly blurted it out when we were looking at all the information."

Laughter only seconds away, Ana asks, "What did you say?"

"What could I say?" Affecting a pompous tone, Christian suggests the scenario, "Actually, your son doesn't much care for being tied up, preferring instead to bind his young, nubile wife before he spanks her and vigorously fucks her." Then shrugging, he explains, "Once I recovered the ability to speak, I mumbled a thanks and we moved on. We couldn't even fucking look at each other for several minutes."

It's too much, and Ana is lost to raucous laughter, not even stopping when Christian puts a hand over her mouth in a playful effort to stop her. Suddenly, she's on her back and he's kissing her hard enough to almost hurt, even as his hand finds a way under her sweater to enclose one breast; the nipple already peaked in readiness for him. He groans and pulls back enough to appreciatively mutter, "No bra." Then shaking his head in wonder, his thumb almost casually flicking across her pebbled nipple until Ana is mad with need, he says, "God, woman, what you do to me."

This close to him losing all control, Ana knows very well that he might still refuse her, so she desperately scans her memory for something that might tip him over the edge. In the end she finds the perfect words when she relaxes in his arms, awaiting his decision. Christian studies her for a moment longer, his hand now on her midriff, and asks, "You sure about this?"

Suddenly, it's all so clear to Ana; he loses control because she likes it. She doesn't like it all the time, of course. Not when she told him about the baby. And she sort of knew this about herself. The fact that playful/angry Christian is her favorite suggested it, but she didn't realize how much. Christian is still keenly studying her, waiting for her reply. All she can think to say is, "I like it that you can't keep your hands of me."

Christian laughs and says, "I've noticed. But that's not what you were just thinking."

"Actually, it was. Can I get up?"

Immediately moving off her, Christian helps Ana onto the sofa and sits beside her as he asks, "Okay, baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just realized that I've been making things worse. When we're like this, and you express a desire to wait before we make love, I deliberately provoke you, so that…"

"Not your fault, baby. I want you so bad sometimes that I can't see straight. And I like it that way, because you like it."

"Well, that's kind of my point. Before you met me, everything was about control, right? If you could control even your sexual urges, then your symptoms were manageable?"

"Yes, but it wasn't really…I was barely alive when I met you, baby. I told you; what we have is so much better that it almost doesn't compare with my relationships before you."

Wondering how to express something she's working out as she speaks, Ana eventually says, "I think you losing control during foreplay isn't helping with your anxiety. So I'm going to stop provoking you…I mean when you've said you want to wait, anyway." When Christian looks utterly bewildered, she asks, "What?"

"Are you trying to seduce me now?"

"What? No; not deliberately. Why?"

Christian laughs again and says, "Why? You just told me that you're giving me control even when you're horny as hell. You do understand why that's an incredible turn-on for me, right?"

Ana also laughs and says, "Oh, I see what you mean. So, you're okay with this? Do you think I'm right?"

"You might be. Flynn says we can train our brain; that I've effectively been doing that most of my life. So it's possible that being in control even of your passion might help me with my temper and anxiety. I worry…now that I've finally found a reason to get over my hatred of medication, I'm worried that I'll be dependent on them forever." With a shrug, he continues, "Flynn says it's unlikely. His plan is to get me through the memory regressions and then rely on other techniques to help with the rest of my symptoms. But there's still that fear. I don't want to feel not me for the rest of my life."

Genuinely horrified at the thought, Ana quietly says, "I wouldn't like that, either." With a sudden grin, she asks, "Can we fuck now?"

His eyes sparkling with good humor, Christian says, "No." Lifting her in his arms and placing her back on the cushion, he instructs, "Do your fucking homework."

Ana giggles and quotes, "Mmm…fucking homework."

Kissing the site of her tumor, Christian says, "Stop stalling. Hey, what about 'Smart Mouth' as a name? That way we'd be rid of it when they do the surgery."

Surprised and pleased that he's able to discuss something that must be terrifying for him, Ana says only, "Christian, you love my smart mouth."

Again tilting her face, so that he can kiss her, Christian then says, "You got me." Placing the page of symptoms in her hands, he adds, "When you think you've memorized them I'll quiz you."

Remembering that the sooner she finishes, the sooner they'll make love, Ana sets about her task. As she does so, Christian's strong hands start massaging all the tension from her shoulders, and she offers a grateful, "Mmm…good, thank you."

Of course, with such a comfortable environment, and the promise of sex if she gets it right, Ana soon learns the warning signs; tingling or numbness in her left arm, vision and/or speech problems, worsening headaches, and more. When he's satisfied, Christian asks, "Hungry?"

Surprised, given that they had a very late lunch, Ana says, "Yes."

Beaming his pleasure, Christian says, "Good. Because dinner is served."

Of course, the food is delicious. Between bites, Ana asks, "Are Gail and Jason hiding? I haven't seen them at all."

"I figured you didn't need them hovering and treating you like an invalid tonight." At her raised eyebrow, he says, "Exactly; my job."

Ana offers him a genuine smile and says, "Actually, I'm once again having more fun than I would have thought possible, thank you."

Christian smiles his pleasure at this and is quiet for a while, then asks, "So, we're okay?"

Ana understands that he's not just fishing for reassurance, so she gives it some thought and says, "I think so. If I dwell on how I felt after you stormed out the other night, I start to feel an echo of that pain. But, of course, I understand why you couldn't have behaved any other way, so I never really felt angry with you over that, just…well, hurt, as you said. But I know you'd cut off your right arm before doing that again."

Apparently in earnest, Christian says, "Yes, I would."

Smiling, Ana says, "Thankfully, not necessary. And I happen to be very fond of your right arm…and the hand attached to it."

"And the fingers, too?"

Just the thought of what Christian can do with his fingers means that Ana is back to horny as hell. Remembering her earlier promise, she pushes aside what's left of her meal and says, "I'm not hungry anymore."

Recognizing the flush of desire on her skin, Christian grins and leers, "I think you are, baby."

Understanding that he's speaking of a different sort of hunger, Ana groans and says, "Are you going to torture me because I've given up even more control?"

Smoothly rising to his feet and coming around the table to help Ana from her chair, Christian says, "No, baby, I'm going to fuck you."

Taking her hand, Christian leads them to their room. There, he wordlessly helps Ana from her clothes; only then asking, "Okay?"

At first confused, Ana realizes that he's still concerned about her tumor, so she says, "Other than I can barely stand for how much I want you right now, yes. I'm fine."

Smiling, Christian loosens his tie a little and then drops his hands to his sides. Taking the hint, a delighted and naked Ana first removes his tie and drapes it around her neck, prompting him to comment, for the second time today, "Nice outfit."

Ana only smiles, intent on her task. When they're both naked, she awaits a sign from Christian how he'd like to proceed, only then noticing that, though his body is well and truly ready for her, his expression is one of concern. So she knows that, despite his bravado, he's still very worried about her. Confident that he'll eventually get past this new fear of hurting her, she pulls back the bed covers and instructs, "Lie down, dick up."

It's the right tone, because Christian chuckles at her choice of words and says "Yes, ma'am," as he complies. Without a word, Ana straddles Christian and lowers herself onto him, prompting a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure from both of them; the ease of the move confirming how much she'd been looking forward to exactly this, and he teases, "Just as well I didn't go down on you; we might have needed the Coastguard."

Past even the point of embarrassment, the delicious feel of him inside her driving her almost to orgasm already, Ana leans back, brazenly offering her body as she protests, "You talk too much, Mr. Grey."

So there are no more words as he, with trembling hands, reacquaints himself with her body, until they're both driven to the point of madness and back again. His tie, that silver symbol of his need to control her, falls unnoticed into the floor as Ana and Christian, just for a little while, manage to forget that life could be anything other than this perfect.

In the warm afterglow, facing each other, still unable to keep their hands from gently roaming over familiar curves, avoiding the erogenous zones by unspoken mutual consent, Christian comments, "Just as well you're on your left side when we're in bed."

With an indulgent smile, Ana points out, "Except that we might have found out even earlier about the tumor if I was mostly on my right."

"Oh, of course." Gently caressing the site of her tumor, pushing aside her hair as if he can see into her skull, Christian continues, "I'm still having trouble believing it, even as the whole thing terrifies me."

Immediately concerned, Ana asks, "But you're okay talking about it?"

With a shrug, Christian says, "So far, so good. I'm sure there are hard times ahead. But I'm not going to panic again. I can't do that to you again…to us. But, still, it might be better to ease into conversations that you know will freak me out."

"Well, that's exactly why I was rehearsing in front of the mirror on Monday, but you ambushed me."

Christian breathes a small laugh and says, "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. We've still got so much to learn about each other, haven't we?"

With a ready smile, Ana says, "Yes, but I'm mostly enjoying the lessons, even the challenging ones."

Drawing Ana closer for a kiss, they both then settle into the entwined embrace that they'd become used to enjoying every night and he says, "I know it's only been a couple of nights, but I've missed this…maybe even more than the sex."

Ana giggles and says, "That's not what you said a few minutes ago when you screamed my name."

His fingers teasing at her ticklish ribs, he lies, "I did no such thing."

Still laughing, Ana says, "My mistake."

They're quiet for a while, then Christian gently asks, "What was your vision? The one of me and our son?"

Ana smiles against his chest and says, "He was soaring. He's maybe two or three and you're holding him by the back of his jacket, your other hand under his belly and spinning around. He's got his arms out, like a plane, and such a smile on his face, Christian…he's incredibly happy."

His voice barely audible, Christian nervously asks, "He's not afraid?"

Lifting her head, so that her husband will know how sincere she is, Ana says, "Darling, his father is Christian Grey; I doubt he's afraid of anything."

Too moved at first to speak, Christian eventually manages a weak smile and says, "I'm going to cry when our baby is born, aren't I?"

Getting ready to protect her ticklish ribs, Ana teases, "Probably. You are well known for being a crybaby."

Christian accepts it in good humor, merely shrugging and saying, "Well, I've had a lot of practice coping with too much sorrow. Only since meeting you have I had to learn how to cope with too much happiness."

Having guessed what he was about to say, Ana can feel the moisture on her cheeks as he finishes, and she complains, "Bastard."

First kissing her tears away, then again kissing the tumor, and finally their baby, Christian shuffles until they're both comfortable and softly commands, "Sleep, all of you. More happy tears tomorrow, I promise."

Ana wakes in the middle of the night, gasping for air. A few seconds later she remembers why; the nightmare about her stillborn baby's tiny body covered in tumors. Her head and heart pounding, she turns over, only to find that she's yet again alone in their bed. Desperate for comfort, she dons her robe and goes looking for her husband. She finds him in the living room, fast asleep on the sofa; his computer still whirring away. Not that she means to read it; as always instinctively wishing to respect Christian's privacy. But seeing the heading "To my son…or daughter if your mother is wrong," removes the choice from her.

Your mother won't let me apologize, because she honestly believes that I couldn't help behaving so badly. I, however, don't have her talent for forgiveness, and the guilt is going to torture me forever unless I get this off my chest. I'm so sorry, beyond my ability to express it, for how I reacted on hearing that you are to join us. Please don't think it's because I don't want to be your father. When you're older, you'll understand that some things we want so bad that they become akin to fantasy or myth…as if finally getting what we want above all else has become an impossibility…a dream, that we can never hope to achieve. And then, the greatest tragedy; if we're suddenly offered our dream, it's after we've finally managed to convince ourselves that we never really wanted it in the first place, because that's the only way to cope with being denied your heart's desire…certainly the only way I know. For reasons that, I hope, I'll one day be brave enough to explain, I'd never really let myself dare to believe that I could be lucky enough to have a family. But your mother's love, another thing I never dared wish for, has made that possible for me. All you need to know about her is contained in the fact that she loved you on learning of your existence. Anyway, that's why I reacted so badly, hurting your mother and momentarily denying you. Plus, there's the fact that I'm terrified of not being good enough for you. But your mother says I am, and she's the wisest person I know. So I'm going to do my very best to help you become who you are born to be.

Your father,

Christian Grey

Again weeping, the tears rolling unheeded down her face, Ana closes the lid, struck by how symbolic it feels; as if she's closing a chapter in their lives, and she wonders what's changed. Then wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she joins Christian on the sofa. He stirs, realizes what's going on, and shuffles over to give her room. Automatically enfolding her in his arms, he asks, "Okay, baby?"

Suddenly unafraid, of anything, Ana means so much more when she simply says, "I am now."

Author's note: Want to name the tumor? There shall be a prize for my favorite...unfortunately it will amount to nothing more than credit here.

Thanks, again, to my Guest reviewers, especially the one who expressed outraged surprise that I don't get more reviews. Given that I both read and reply where possible, I'm not sure my brain can cope with much more. But I comprehend and appreciate the sincere compliment, thank you.

And, OMG, Mobabe commented on my story! She insists that it ain't nothin'. But, if you've read her incredible contribution to FSoG fanficdom, you'll understand why that was a big deal for me:-)