Chapter Twelve: Sometimes Love Ain't Enough (Don Henley & Patty Smith)

About the title: One day, while I was watching the video for this song, my imagination went on overdrive trying to figure out how the lyrics applied to Don & Patty's situation. Wasn't love supposed to conquer all? It seemed so counterintuitive. How could love NOT be enough? This story was born from my attempt to answer that question. The big Aha moment came listening to Rihanna's song and that's how this story was born.

I highlighted the phrases indicating the passage of time to make it easier to follow. Formatting may be a bit off, tried many times to fix it.


Later that morning, Christian and Ana walked to the International House of Pancakes, conveniently located around the corner from the hotel.

"Can't believe you wanted to come here," Ana said, as the waitress ushered them to a booth.

Whenever my mom was away at a medical conference, my dad would bring me here. "I have a weakness for buttermilk pancakes."

"That's why you refused room service."

"No one can beat this place."

Ana ordered Belgian waffles, with strawberries on top, and Christian ordered eggs over-easy and a stack of hotcakes.

"Last night was amazing, Ana," he said, reaching for her hand across the table. "I'm hoping you felt the same."

"I did," she whispered, lowering her lashes. Her eyes filled with a coy shyness when she glanced up, almost making him blush.

"Every word I said, I meant. I want to always be with you."

Whoa.

"Always? ..." she questioned with a nervous chuckle.

This is the most serious I have ever been in my life."

"That's very sweet of you…but let's not rush into things."

"Just to be clear, I'm not suggesting that you move in with me. I want a serious relationship with you."

Ana smiled a relaxed smile. "Boyfriend-girlfriend?"

"I wouldn't have used that term, but yes."

The server brought their order shortly after. By then, the tension between them had disappeared. They had settled into companionable silence.
Their meals were perfect and Christian was genuinely pleased.

"Tell me something, Anastasia."

"Yes?" she said, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs.

"This dude, Jose, knows it's over between you and him."

Ana smiled as if he'd said something endearing.

"Of course, he knows. I made it quite clear. We'd stayed friends, and he keeps me updated about his mother."

"He took all those photographs of you... the poses were candid but also quite intimate."

Ana lowered her gaze. She then glanced at her phone, checking the time.
"I gotta go. "The movers are coming, and I still have lots to pack," Ana said while gathering her purse.

"Listen," he murmured with a wink. "I bought all the photos he took. I didn't want some stranger ogling you in the privacy of their own home."

"You'd rather it was you?" She laughed.

"Frankly, yes," He replied, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Pervert," she mouthed at him, biting her lower lip to hide her smile.

"When will I see you again?"

"After the move."

...

Six months Later

Life was good. Christian asked Ana to move into Escala and, much to his delight, she accepted. The move had worked out well. Ana had accepted a job at a private elementary school located only ten miles from Escala.

Christian hadn't heard from Leila in months. But, as soon as the papers started referring to Anastasia as his official girlfriend, she reestablished contact. She'd begun with casual texting, which he ignored. Eventually, the texting became more irrational and demanding, and he blocked her number.

He'd left work early this evening, intending to surprise Ana.

He was relaxing in bed, messing with his music playlist, when Ana's number popped up on his screen. His lips naturally curved into a smile.

From the alarm in her voice, he immediately gathered something was truly wrong.

"Ana? You're crying!"

"I've been trying to call you!" Her voice wailed through the speakers.

Christian checked his phone icons. No missed calls. She must be in a bad signal area.

"It's Ray. He's been in an accident."

"Where are you?"

"I'm 45 miles from Portland. They've airlifted him there."

"God! " he murmured, quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Your dad is gonna be just fine. "

"When are you getting here?"

Christian was about to reply when suddenly, a loud alarm started blaring. A fraction of a second later, he bolted up and faced the barrel of a handgun.

Leila?
His eyes furrowed in confusion just as he heard Taylor and the rest of his security turn the corner.

"Drop it! NOW" Taylor shouted.

A wide-eyed Leila slowly turned. Finding herself surrounded, she dropped the gun, falling to her knees in surrender.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She wailed in response to being strip-searched by Reynolds and Ryan. Once they were done, she curled herself into a ball.

Taylor picked up the gun from the floor and announced, "I'm calling the sheriff."

"Nope," Christian said. Taylor shook his head in disagreement. "We need to file a police report. There needs to be a record." Christian took one look at Leila. She was completely harmless in her catatonic state, crying and rocking herself back and forth.

"Call Dr. Flynn," Christian murmured, pulling him aside. "We need to get her into a psychiatric hospital."

"I think this is a bad idea, Christian. We can do both."

"No. I'll stay with her until Dr. Flynn gets here."

Christian didn't bother waiting for a response. Thinking he had everything under control, he turned the corner toward the master bedroom.

Everything that happened after that became a web of confusion.

"What does she have that I don't?" Leila demanded; something about her voice was odd, as though she was speaking from inside a tunnel.

The last thing he remembered with any sense of coherence was feeling suddenly unsteady and typing Ana a quick text message.

Can't come right now. Not feeling well.


Twelve hours later

Upon awakening, Christian felt odd and disoriented; his thinking slowed to a crawl. His naked body lay under a thick layer of covers, and his hand automatically went to rub his sore arm.

He stared at his hand for a long time, scrutinizing it, until panic set in.

"Where is she?" He asked Taylor after throwing on a pair of boxer shorts.

"Leila Williams?"

Taylor had been enjoying a quick breakfast in the close-circuit monitoring room when Christian walked in.

"Dr. Flynn came and had her committed like we talked about. He wanted to ask you a few questions, but you were sleeping like a rock."

Christian didn't reply.

"We figured out how she broke the code. Somehow, she seduced Ryan."

Taylor kept talking, including details that Christian wasn't able to process.

Panic set in. He'd always been a quick thinker, so finding himself struggling with processing speed, simple word formation, and sentence structuring was alarming.

Maybe if he switched gears….

Ana. He needed Ana.

"Is Ana still at the hospital?" he murmured, recalling Ray's accident.

"Yes. She called. I told her you were in bed with a massive migraine. Her father is doing better this morning."

Oh, good.

"Thank you, Taylor."

"What a night," Taylor sighed. "She nearly got away while you were sleeping. Barney and I stopped her. She was like a madwoman flinging objects like frisbees. There was glass and ceramic all over the living room. We got it all on video, perfect for the psych report."

Suddenly, flashes from the previous night assaulted him.

Bolting up straight and then plopped back down onto the pillow, the room spinning like a merry-go-round. No idea if he had climbed into bed willingly or…

"Are you feeling okay, Chris? You look unwell...are you hot?'

Even though he wasn't physically bound to the bed, the spinning made his body feel unnaturally heavy and weighted, naturally melting into the sheets like wax. His body felt alien, intolerably vulnerable, like a primitive creature between two skins or two shells, such as a lobster or a crab. But the most alarming thing was realizing his hand had ballooned to grotesque proportions.

"STOP!" He shouted, not recognizing his own voice. In this new reality, he had no mouth, no voice.

Moving his head from side to side made the spinning worse. The only thing that helped was closing his eyes.

...

"Mr. Grey? How are you feeling?"

Christian turned to face Doctor Smith, his doctor. He had spent the night in one of the spare rooms.

The doctor insisted on doing a thorough examination, checking his pupils and reflexes. Christian reluctantly obliged.

"I feel sluggish, like the worst hangover ever."

"Do you remember me waking you up multiple times throughout the night? You woke up long enough to send me to hell each time," the doctor said with a small smile.

"Taylor called you?"

"He did. Both Dr. Flynn and I were here when Ms. Williams was taken into custody and taken into the most state-of-the-art psychiatric care facility in Fremont. Mr. Taylor was concerned he wasn't able to wake you. Upon examining you, I gathered and Ms. Williams had a Cannabis cocktail party."

Christian pursed his lips, neither denying nor confirming. Back when He and Leila were together, they'd experimented with drugs to enhance sex, but they'd never truly become a habit.

He furrowed his brows and tried to think.

But thinking required putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle when four or five pieces had magically vanished to another galaxy.

The only thing that made sense was that she had swiftly stabbed him in the back...but when?

"Your vitals were fine. Rather than transfer you to the hospital, I kept you here under observation."

Christian exhaled, grateful for that. He could only imagine how worried Grace would have been. News traveled fast in medical circles.

Next, the good doctor revealed the central piece of the puzzle. Even though now he had a better clue of what the puzzle would end up being; the gaps were still noticeable.

"I took blood samples and got the results expedited...they show a high dose of Kentamine in your system. He paused meaningfully. "It's usually administered intravenously."

Christian held his head, pressing his temples. He tried rearranging the pieces to figure out the when, where, and how.

When he blinked again, he pictured Leila. A curious object in HER hand looked a lot like a turkey baster.

"It's basically an anesthetic sometimes prescribed off label for depression. Were you and Ms. Williams sharing prescriptions, Mr. Grey?" Dr. Smith asked carefully.

Christian frowned, resenting the assumption that he'd taken the drug voluntarily. Setting the record straight, however, was out of the question.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself if that's what you're asking."

"May I remind you of the dangers of sharing prescriptions, Mr. Grey?"

Great, Christian thought, spare me the lecture.

"I don't remember exactly what happened after Taylor left the room. I'm sure he made several calls and given the run-around. Getting someone involuntarily committed is not exactly a piece of cake."

Dr. Smith cocked his head in sympathetic concern. "Did you experience any hallucinations, Mr. Grey? It's a fairly common side effect, especially in people with a history of trauma."


...

Once the effects from Kentamine wore off completely, Christian traveled to Montesano's General Hospital. By the time he arrived, the doctors were certain Ray would be well enough to be discharged the next day. He'd experienced a moderate case of whiplash. Other than that, he had suffered minor injuries.

It was hard returning to his life with Ana as if nothing had happened. Of course, she noticed the changes in his personality and peppered him with questions. He dodged them expertly, erecting an enormous wall to keep the memories and disturbing flashes at bay.

Luckily, Ana embraced his idea of relocating the master suite to the end of the hallway and she fully threw herself into the project.
Over the next few weeks, Christian continued meeting with Leila's psychiatric team.

Time and time again, he'd had his attorneys fight against her release at her closed-door mental competency hearings, extending her stay. They successfully extended Code 5150 and turned it into back-to-back 14-day stays. Code 5150 allowed for patients to become involuntarily detained if declared a danger to themselves or others. Aside from the gun that was confiscated from Leila, there were other aggravating factors against her, such as unlawful break-in and the testimonies of Taylor and Christian's entire security detail.

When it was Christian's turn to testify in the closed court proceedings, he came forward with what he remembered from that night. Not wishing to stand there naked under their obnoxious fluorescent lights, he left out any mention of sexual assault, even after being reassured that his testimony would remain confidential.

Leila was not present in any of the hearings. Christian only attended the first one. His lawyers took care of the rest and kept him well-informed. One November morning, he was at work skim-reading the reports when something out of the ordinary caught his attention.
A medical report stated Leila was five weeks pregnant.

Five weeks…!?

That was a bit of a surprise, for sure, he thought, mildly interested in who the child's father might be. Ryan? But then, a flash from that night violently resurfaced.

Nope.

Even if the timing was right, there was no way that child could be his. A child conceived after a single act of…. self-insemination?
How absurd.

He might as well start believing in flying monkeys.

It had to be Ryan or some other unfortunate idiot.

Days went by. The voice in his head wouldn't stop nagging him. He just had to be sure. So he persuaded Dr. Greene to order prenatal DNA testing just in case.
Christian was annoyed the gynecologist insisted they meet in person, refusing to discuss the results over the phone.

"This has to be a mistake."

"Mr. Grey, these results are 99 percent conclusive."

There it was. Proof.

He shook the thought away.

Who was he kidding? This proved nothing.

If anything, it condemned him.

Who would ever believe his participation had been involuntary?

Not Ana.

Heck, sometimes even HE questioned the involuntary part.

Except he'd been drugged. The problem with such a revelation was that it would make him look like a pathetic little victim.

He would rather die a thousand deaths before exposing himself to such judgment and scrutiny.

"We need to schedule a termination," he murmured.

"I'm afraid that's a decision Ms. Williams alone can make."

Christian shook his head. "Leila Williams is a nobody. She's confined to a place where people cease to be people. A place where even her own family refuses to visit. Some would say it's hell on earth, a thousand times worse than landing in prison. The bottom line is that she lost ALL rights to make her own decisions the night she went postal."

"I understand she has an advocate."

That was just a technicality. In reality, patient advocates were all too happy to sign on the dotted lines. They attended hearings and went with the hospitals's recommendations. In fact, they rarely bothered to meet with their court-appointed clients. In Leila's case, the advocate had made a few of attempts to meet with her but failed to explain who the hell he was. And so she'd refused to speak to him.

…..

A few days later, Christian's lawyers met with the advocate and presented a proposal. As soon as he had confirmation that the termination had been scheduled, Christian distanced himself from all things related to Leila Williams. His lawyers would ensure she would never see the light of day. Last he heard, the bitch's case had suffered a setback when she attempted to escape. In addition, there were other incriminating facts. A couple of patients and a staff member had suffered accidental injuries during the incident, which meant her transfer to a high-security facility.

Christian doubted he'd ever see her again. His lawyer had filed multiple restraining orders in case she ever got released.

It was time to move on.

Unfortunately, closing the door to the past didn't happen with a flick of the fingers. The flashes, often a mix of drug-induced hallucinations and reality, continued to assault during even the most mundane activities. More often than not, he was at home eating dinner with Ana, relaxing, and having a good time, when suddenly, the image of his ex dressed in a white lab coat appeared. Other times, he would be nearly asleep when he'd jolt himself awake with the image of an army of lab coats wishing to stab him with a large syringe.

Often, whenever the flashes happened and threatened to expose him to the world, he ran. The disappearing acts continued until they ran their course. He usually returned after a couple of hours, sometimes longer.

One evening, he and Ana were in bed watching a movie depicting graphic sexual assault. He sat there feeling suck punched. Then, he walked out without a single word, as if in a trance-like state. He returned to the penthouse three hours later.

By then, Ana had already packed her belongings into one large suitcase and a small duffel bag. He arrived in time to stop her from walking out the door to their master suite.

Something in the way you move

Makes me feel like I can't live without you

It takes me all the way

I want you to stay

Stay

I want you to stay.

"Don't go, please. I should have called and texted you back. I just needed fresh air."

Ana shook her head. "I can't let you keep doing this!"

"Wait! At least let me explain!"

'Round and around and around and around we go

Oh, now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now, you know.

After much deliberation, Ana put down her bags and closed the door. She still lingered by the door, as if she might change her mind at any moment.

"It was the movie. I hated it. I need to get away."

"What's wrong with simply asking me to change the channel?"

I couldn't. My brain completely shut down.

"I really didn't go anywhere, Ana. I just sat in my car the entire time just thinking, I swear. My brain got stuck on a loop..."

Something in her demeanor softened. She let out a long exhale.

"It sounds like an anxiety attack to me. What does Dr. Flynn say?"

"I will mention it on our next visit."

"You never have?" she cocked her head in disbelief. "It's not like this is the first time..."

Christian hung his head. In truth, he was coping with what happened the best way he could, through denial.

"Christian, talk to me. What happened that night?"

"I've told you this already."

"No. Something happened... whatever it was, it changed you."

"I already told you, " he snapped, scowling. "I felt sick that night. Leila had just threatened to kill me and pointed a gun at my face. I didn't tell you at the time cos' I didn't want you to worry."

Ana shook her head. "There's something you're not telling me. I don't care how many times you freaking deny it! The point is, you don't trust me enough to tell me."

"It's not about trust!" He snapped, the force of his denial reverberating through the walls.

She will never EVER believe me.

"It's not?!" she snapped back bitterly.

He was sick and tired of going around in circles having the same damn argument. He would rather starve to death than face the shame of what he'd done.

He held his head, palms pressing against his temples, his inner voice shouting, mocking him.

If she knew...She would never forgive you.

"Trust is the most important thing in a relationship...even more important than love. No relationship can survive without trust."
That statement really annoyed him. This wasn't about love or trust.

He loved her and trusted her more than anything. The thought of losing her was beyond terrifying.

His problems had nothing to do with them as a couple and everything to do with him and him alone. It was sad knowing it's your own heart you can't trust, and that love is not always enough.

"Then why don't you fucking trust me?" he growled. "So I have anxiety. I've shared my entire life, my entire history with you. I've shared every gory detail of my horrible childhood. Why isn't that enough for you?"