I'm sorry for the long delay, potential typos and grammatical errors. I have nothing but real life getting in the way as an excuse. I know it's a matter of reader interpretation, but just to clarify, the Ana in this story is not a spineless manipulative sociopath. Thanks for the patience.
Repercussion
"You can't expect us to just go, without any explanations, Christian, we see the child," Grace reasons to me, beseechingly, when I told them, by them I mean, my whole family that now isn't the right time to talk, as I am still in the middle of sorting thing shit out. I'm in the middle of getting my questions answered, when my family arrived, thanks to my sister's fiancé, Ethan Kavanagh. Ethan called my sister when he was sure that Teddy is out of Ana's bag, something that he claims, he's been wanting to do since seeing and meeting my son. As expected, a shocked Mia decided to head straight to Kate's apartment and on the way, she managed to call and notify both my parents and my brother, who all decided that they will stop whatever they're doing and head straight to where we are. My security, Taylor, tried to block them, but to no avail. And once the door is open, there's no escaping the mob, so to speak.
"Yes, I can. We're in the middle of a conversation and a private one," I snap, not only to my mother, but to everyone. It's just too… crowded, too overwhelming, not only for me, but for my… family. Particularly to my son who is staring wide eyed at the people around him. He is overwhelmed with the crowd – a demanding crowd. I can see it in his eyes – much like his mother's – the overwhelming fear and anxiety, and for some reason that I cannot fathom, I feel an overwhelming need to protect him. I feel the urge to tell them to go away, that they're ruining the moment. The moment where a child is busy examining the face of his father for the very first time and getting to know him while he drinks his milk. A quiet yet surreal moment, ruined by a fucking nosy know-it-all, who is busy apologizing to his dumbfounded friend.
"Is that…?" Mia asks, her eyes, no – everyone's eyes all focus on the child in my arms; my son. My now scared and frankly, overwhelmed son, who, just like his mother, his thoughts clearly seen through his eyes. Those beautiful clear blue eyes, he surely got from his mom. Eyes that are supposed to be sleepy but instead, they are now wide awake, because of the commotion around him. His eyes travelling from one face to the next, at each stranger in the room. The burst of unwelcomed strangers clearly overwhelmed him. I sense his fear as he struggles out of my lap and walk, almost run into the confines of his mother's arms, the bottle of milk discarded on my lap. I watch – No– everyone watches as the child with a shock of unruly copper hair, much like mine, struggle to bury his face on his mother's neck, anxious instead of excited. Sniffing, instead of giggling happily. I don't like the sniffing. In fact, I think I hate it.
"Mommy… Sippy," he murmurs, still sniffing. What the hell is a sippy? Ana hushes him, comforting him with kisses and murmuring reassuring words, but he is still sniffing. I glare at everyone. Look what you have fucking done? I glare at everyone, my family, her friends and dad, who are all crowding us with different versions of guilt, wonder, curiosity and questions written in their faces.
"Christian, do you mind handing me Ted's sippy cup, please?" she asks, shakily. Like his son –our son, I can tell that she is pretty overwhelmed by what's happening. Apparently, the baby bottle that's been latched into my son's mouth is called a sippy cup. I nod, handing the sippy cup back to the little one, who takes it appreciatively back to his mouth. He settles into his mother's lap, playing with hair, his anxiety about the still gaping visitors all but forgotten. In a way, I see what she meant when she said she didn't want the drama, the stress of telling everyone about her situation. I mean, I'm not going to fucking lie, I'm still angry that she didn't tell me, but I understand, sort of. To be mobbed by people with questions and reactions, good or bad? It's too fucking much. What more if she did it? What more if she did tell me, that she was pregnant the moment she found out? I shake my head at the thought and focus on the matter at hand.
"Yes, Theodore Raymond Grey, is my son," I state matter-of-factly. Looking at Anastasia, who's eyes are rounder than pies and then to my gaping family. "I know you have questions, I do too. I'm in the middle of an important conversation with the mother of my child, when you walked into the door. Now, if you don't mind, I think I have the right to get my answers first before everyone else. Besides, my family –Ana and Ted, have had enough of uninvited visitors for the night. So please, let's talk about this some other time, not tonight," I finish, eyeing my parents earnestly, begging for them to give us time, give me time.
"Come on in," says the sleepy voice of Katherine Kavanagh, bringing me back from the memory of the previous night's big reveal and into the present. I know that it's way too early in the morning, and he is probably still sleeping. He and his mother had a rough night after all, but I don't care. I have the right to see him, to know if he's truly real and that last night wasn't a fucking dream. A weird dream where I walk into the same building, knock on the door and find Katherine Kavanaugh, and a kid – a kid that looks like me and Anastasia Steele, his mother.
For starters, the dream isn't a nightmare. I mean, it was weird, but it was… pleasant. The kid is smart, he actually knows me, and he's smiling at me until a burst of even more unwelcomed visitors interrupts our moment. That bit woke me up until I couldn't sleep anymore. So I dragged myself of my bed and into my piano to play music until its decent enough for a morning jog. Even the route of my morning jog is different, instead of the six mile route at the marina and the docks, I head straight to the apartment building at the Pike Place to see if whether or not the kid and last night was real. And so far, the mere fact that Katherine Kavanagh lets me into the building without a moment's hesitation, at six twenty-five in the morning tells me that everything about last night is real. Again, I opt for the stairs, rather than the elevator, buying me some time to rewind and digest last nights... events.
To recap things, yes, the child, Theodore Raymond Steele, is real. I will have yet another conversation with Anastasia about my child's name. Yes, Anastasia, my ex concealed him from me for three years, fearing that I will ask her to terminate the pregnancy if I ever found out. Yes, she left me because of the pregnancy. She wanted more because she was pregnant. Yes, my family also found out about Theodore last night. I asked them to leave because I wanted to get my answers first and talk with the mother of my son, they obliged only after I agreed that they'll get their chance to meet and talk this afternoon in my apartment. And lastly, yes; his stubborn mother refused to go back to Escala with me last night, preferring her friend's apartment instead, insisting that nothing's changed now that Theodore has met and seen his father. I snort at the last thought. Doesn't change my ass. I have a son, a son, who looks exactly like me, except for the eyes. I have a son – that changes hell of a lot of things. And as for Ana and I, well, let's just say we still a lot to fucking things to talk about. My son's name and their living situation are on the very top of my list.
The door to apartment number two is already ajar when I reach the second floor. I let myself in, noting that all is quiet and the lack of people, unlike last night. I follow the hushed voices coming from the kitchen, familiar voices that I didn't expect to be up at past six thirty in the morning. Somehow, I'm not surprised to find my sister and her fiancé when I rounded the corner. The couple are talking to a still groggy looking Kate and a wary but fully awake Anastasia.
"Good morning Mr. Daddy," Mia greets me with hushed enthusiasm. She and her fiancée, Anastasia's supposed friend, who ratted to my sister and the rest of my family, the instant I put two for two together, are busy preparing what looks like a breakfast feast.
"What are you doing here?" is my brilliant answer.
"Well, my husband-to-be happens to live next door," Mia says haughtily. "We went for a morning run, passed by to see if the little one is awake and since he's not, but his is mommy is already up, We figured it's best to get my answers way ahead of the others in exchange of breakfast. What's your excuse?"
"It's way too early to get you answers," I scoff. Mia simply rolls her eyes and shrug.
"True. I admit it's too early but, well, after last night's cute little bombshell, well who could blame me? Besides, so what if its six thirty in the morning? Everyone needs breakfast to start the day. How about you? What are you doing here so early in the morning?" She babbles in all hushed cylinders walking around, opening cabinets as if she owns the kitchen while Ethan makes French pressed coffee.
"My family is staying here, temporarily," I say matter-of-factly, flashing a glare at the mother of my child. It's true. They are technically my family, even though Anastasia refused to go back to Escala with me last night, pointing that, again, nothing's changed, except the fact that I now know that I've knocked her out of wedlock, oh, and that she has a lot of explaining to do to me and the rest of my family, thanks to my sister's nosy fiancé. That smart mouth of hers.
"I believe a family consist of a married couple with a child," Anastasia interjects, with said smart mouth. She is without a doubt, thinking about our conversation last night after I successfully fend off my family with a promise that they will get their chance to talk and to meet my son the very next day, which is today. Fuck. I need coffee and I need to see him. Where is he? Where is my son?
"He's still asleep," Ana says, correctly reading my mind. She points to their room, the door ajar and I can see my son's sleeping figure, surrounded by pillows.
"So I guess breakfast for five and a half then? If Teddy eats solid food, that is," Mia announces in her most hushed voice as she looks around the pantry and fridge, collecting things she thinks suitable for breakfast.
"Yes, thanks, Mia. You'll be surprised with Ted's appetite," Ana, replies gratefully.
"Good to know. Hmmm let's see, French toast and oh! Bacon and scrambled eggs?"
Everyone shrugs just as Kate announces that she's going to get ready for work. I merely look at Ana, clutching her mug, circles under her eyes tell me that she too had a long night.
"Did you sleep well? Where is Ray?" I ask, already guessing the answer.
"Ray left at five this morning and no, didn't really sleep well. Ted was fussy last night," she says and I realize that she's probably used to the lack of sleep. Kids do that to parents, do they? Hmm to think that she raised my son on her own for the past three years. I feel a mixture of irritation and awe. Undecided whether or not I should be impressed.
"I think everyone didn't sleep well last night," Mia says, distractedly as she prepares breakfast. "I mean, never in a million years would I get a phone call from Ethan telling me that Ana has a child and my brother is in the apartment. Oh, and Ana's kid looks exactly like my brother. I mean, Don't get me wrong, I already love the kid, even though I only saw him last night and not meet him, he looks so much like Christian and I'm a little hurt that you kept him from us, but he's here and I already love him," she babbles uncontrollably. There's an awkward pause. Quiet. Mia decides to shut up for a moment and concentrate on what she's doing, while her fiancé serves us more coffee, looking guilty for letting the… cat out of the bag, so to speak, while I look at Ana, who like her friend, looks guiltily and apologetically at my sister. She has, without a doubt, answered the same questions like she did last night, to me and so many times with her friends and family. Christ! Why oh why did she have to leave and hide? Oh wait, coz I'm a fucked up son of a bitch who'd ask her to terminate if she did told me that I knocked her out. How fucking silly of me.
"I'm sorry, Mia, really but…"
"I know," Mia mumbles, eyes furrowing. "I just wish, you know… you took Teddy away from us for three years, Ana. You never gave us a chance to at least… get to know him, regardless of… you know... the situation," Mia replies wearily, avoiding eye contact. Again, silence descends this early in the morning with all four of us digesting everything –the revelation from last night and all the actions, reactions and consequences that came with it. The words. Words from my sister. Words laced with hurt, which were just said by someone whose happy mood never dampen. Mia, much like Elliot is one who rarely gets upset. Sure, she can be a pain a lot of the times, but like I said, she's always happy and cheerful.
"I don't know what to say except for a flimsy apology and that I made a choice. That choice–" Ana responds but is interrupted by something, or rather, footsteps approaching. Mia let out a voice that sounded between a squeal and sigh. I turn to see my son. My son. My sleepy looking child, a shock of copper hair fanning his face, oblivious of the people around him one hand scratching his eyes, the other holding his aunt, who I suspect is halfway done getting ready for work.
"He's on the verge of a thermonuclear breakdown, but I caught him," Kate huffs as she lifts him up and kisses his chubby cheeks, proud that she avoided the crisis of dealing with a screaming toddler.
"Mommy…" he mumbles, still sleepy as he reaches for his mother's waiting arms, oblivious of the other people in the room as he buries his face onto his mothers neck, sniffing and hiccuping. Is he crying again? All I can do is watch as he clings to his mother. He really is real. The question is does he really recognize me like he did last night? Fuck. I really need some coffee. I look up and see my sister distractedly trying to hand a mug-filled with coffee to me, her eyes locked at my son. Thank fuck! I need fuel to wake my fried brain up and running.
"Good morning, teddy bear. Are you hungry, baby boy?" Ana cooingly asks. After a beat, the boy – my… son, Teddy looks up and nods, albeit, sadly, his face tear-stained. I guess this kid wakes up hungry and he doesn't like waking up alone. For some reason, the thought brings me back to my childhood, with that… I shake my head at the thought. Fuck it. My child is hungry. He won't ever get hungry, not under my watch.
"Where do you keep his milk?" the words are out before I stop myself. There's a pause and I can tell all eyes are on me, I don't give a damn. My son wants milk. I look at both mom and son, who are also looking at me. Anastasia looks shocked while my son, well… he looks like me, when I was a child, back when I was… shit! I stand so as to distract myself from my wayward thoughts. My child is hungry, he needs to eat. I stare at my son's mother expectantly. She blinks, seeming to get a hold of herself.
"Would you like to hold him, while I get the milk?" Ana asks, instead.
"Daddy," I hear my son say, before I can answer. He smiles in spite of the tears in his eyes. There it is again… that warm feeling that comes after the shock of finding out that this child actually knows exactly who I am and that he's somewhat happy to see me. Hands reach out instinctively and in one blink, I'm holding him in my arms. I feel his warm pudgy hands on my chest; I close my eyes, relish at his touch, just basking on the unexplained warmth that I'm feeling. Unexplained feeling that I can't describe... it just feels warm, in a good way. I open my eyes and see his face, smiling face; he's watching his hand roam from my chest until the finally reach my face. I am acutely aware our audience, silently watching our… interaction, but I don't give a damn. I'm too preoccupied with this child in my arms as he is preoccupied with me. His pudgy are busy fingers trailing, seemingly memorizing the outline of my face. Touching, just feeling, everything it feels, until finally, his eyes meet mine and he smiles.
"Daddy," again, he whispers, and then he smiling shyly at me. Inexplicably, the warmth feeling feels warmer, filling my entire body; my entire being. I gasp at its intensity. There's a collective sigh and sniffing, I suspect from our audience and again, I ignore them.
"Teddy," I respond, managing to choke out a smile. He answers with a giggle, covering his eyes as he buries his face in my neck, much like he did to him mom this morning and last night, when we met for the first time. The first time called me, Daddy. Instinctively, my arms encircle his tiny body, rocking back and forth; still ignoring the sniffling from our audience, until finally, my son struggles from my hold to face me with his shy smile, yet again.
"Daddy, sippy. Please?" he tells me, reminding me that he is hungry.
"Oh. Sippy, of course," I tell him and finally, I pry my eyes off his to finally face the other people in the room. I look up to see and realize that aside from Ethan, everyone's face is tearstained. I notice Mia wiping her tears with a paper towel; Ethan's pained reaction and lastly, Anastasia's grief and guilt stricken face, tears freefalling from her eyes, the sippy bottle on her hand. And just like that, I'm transported back to reality. The reality where I was not given a choice; that a chance to make a decision, to let me know was taken away from me. Sure, she has… reasons, had she told me… shit! What would I have done had she told me? I've not doubt I'd be shocked, angry like I did when she told me she missed her pill. Would I tell her to… terminate if I ever found out? I wouldn't know because she took that choice away from me. Could I blame her? Fuck! Anger and confusion surge through my bloodstream. This shit is such a mind-fuck.
It takes all my will power not to snag the cup away from her but surprisingly, I did, thanks to the little one sitting on my lap. The little one takes his sippy cup gratefully and settles himself into my lap, just like he did last night. There's only silence, at least between the two of us. I stare at Anastasia, who is sitting in front of me, watching our son, who is busy drinking his milk, occasionally humming. Mia and Ethan resume preparing breakfast.
"There's still a lot to talk about," I finally say. It's true, we have a lot to talk about and we can't do it in front of an audience.
"I know, Christian, but this isn't the time and the place to talk," she whispers, contritely.