Chapter Thirteen

~Christian~

Anastasia Rose Steele has owned me since the very moment she fell into my office. I fell in love with her but didn't know what to do with that love. I didn't understand what to do with the visceral need that I had for her. My desperate need for her soul of sunshine confused me. My bones were consumed by her before the second hand on my watch moved. The black clouds that hung heavy over my dark and dismal world evaporated when I looked into her powder blue, guileless eyes. My need for her blinds me to my surroundings. I care for her like no other surely could. I would lay down my life to save hers. I crave the honor of protecting her. I am hers, willingly, and helplessly. She eased my loneliness and I hover over her kind heart like the moon.

My love and need for Anastasia may be a burden that's too heavy for her slight shoulders to bear. However, I can't relinquish either. God knows that I tried to for those horrible five days that seem like a lifetime ago. I tried then and I failed. If I were to try now, I would die. My life began the very moment that Katherine Kavanagh woke up with the flu on May 9, 2011. My heart started to beat as Anastasia Steele rode in an elevator at Grey House that landed her directly before my office. My first breath was taken the moment I saw her face.

That life will end if she has only remembered the worst parts of me and throws me to the wayside. The very thought is a life- ending scenario that can't happen. I won't allow us to end this way, because as much as I love Ana, I know that she loves me just as much. If she has finally remembered something about us, but it's only been about that first month and she hates me, please, God, let there be a day when Ana remembers the rest. Please let her remember how much I love her, that we once loved one another with our whole hearts, and planned to spend our lives together. Yes, I'm selfish and want her to remember all of that now, to know everything and still love me, but even more so, I just want Ana to remember that she was loved.

So, here I sit with a rapidly beating heart and parched throat. Anastasia is sitting up in the bed, one shoulder of the hospital gown she's wearing has slid down. We're both staring forward. We may have been sitting here for an hour or one second. I don't know, and I bet that I'll never recall. My eyes see nothing and it hurts to breathe. I'm afraid she's remembered the worst and is about to tell me to fuck off, I'm terrified because Ana's pregnant, and I'm hurt that she said she wasn't going to tell me that she was. It's strange to hurt over something that's yet to happen.

As unpredictable as she is, Anastasia scoots over on the bed and pats the mattress. I face her, blood rushing through my body. She says nothing, but I wouldn't hear her if she did. The only sound I'm cognizant of is the loud rushing noise that fills the space between my ears.

I don't move, and Ana pats the bed again. This time, the smallest of smiles turn up the corners of her dry lips and she nods. I take that as an invitation to sit on the bed bedside her and I'm almost overtaken from gratitude.

I'm almost afraid to get too close to her out of fear of smelling too badly after not having showered since last night. I don't know where my jacket ended up, but my shirts untucked, and I'm kicking off my shoes before I climb onto the bed. I sit up, like her, my long legs stretched out.

I'm terrified of what Ana might say. I'm also terrified that she won't say anything because I never know what she's thinking. Although, what I overheard was telling and a sucker punch to the heart. I chance a look at her small body. Ana, this beautiful and wonderful woman, is pregnant with my baby and I'm in mother fucking shock. What do I say?

I observe her closely, well aware that the words I'm about to speak will form the basis for the rest of my life. After this, righting things could be impossible, and I know this. I open my mouth to speak, then close it. I bite my tongue and swallow. I'm completely lost and feel like wringing my hands together. I can't stop staring at her, trying to read her. Jesus, I measure up people for a living, for fuck's sake. This should be easy. Yet, it never is with Miss Steele.

"How much did you hear?" Her question is a raspy whisper, and I want to fetch her a drink, however, I can't move. She's staring me right in my eyes and I'm locked in. She's as still as a cat ready to pounce.

I lick my lips. "I heard you arguing with Dr. Berman about whether or not you were going to tell me that you were pregnant." My words sound flat.

"What are you thinking?" she asks. Ana's eyes close and I'm afraid that she's already slipped away from me.

"Honestly? I'm too shocked to know what I'm thinking. If that makes any sense."

Once again, we're thrown into silence and I sit there terrified, not only over Ana's words, but from my feelings of becoming a father. I'm much too inadequate for raising a human being.

"I'm sorry. More than I can tell you," she tells me.

What? Why in the fuck is she sorry?

"For what?" I ask. I've got to look confused as hell. I know I am confused as hell.

"Because of what you overheard. I know that it had to have sounded cruel."

I tentatively take her hand and squeeze it. My senses are on high alert and I'm guarded. I'm not sure how to respond to her. Then she squeezes my hand back. My eyes move to the window and look out at the gloomy afternoon. It matches what this day has been. Ana squeezes my hand again and I look at her. She's staring at me expectantly.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand…I mean, I guess I understand. But I've got to ask if you would really keep a pregnancy from me? I know people say things in the heat of the moment…I just have to ask."

Ana just shrugs, and we're brought once again to silence. A long while passes and I'm ready to jump out of the window. We have so much to discuss, and I don't know where to begin. It's all monumental, and more important than my existence.

I have to get it right, because I have already wronged Anastasia horribly. I know that she sees that, because she's always been able to see right through me, even though she's not been in her right mind. Isn't that proof that we're soul mates? It's already been proven that fate brought us together.

Christian Trevelyan-Grey, the unlovable sadist, thrown together with Anastasia Rose Steele, the most loving and decent young woman in the world. Kismet.

"I'm sure that I sounded like a heartless bitch," she begins.

I go to protest, but she places two fingers over my lips before I can utter a word.

"The only thing on the forefront of my brain was how miserable that I've been feeling." Ana rubs her forehead. "Miserable, in my head, you know? I thought I felt so miserable physically due to the insomnia and depression. I never considered…this…a possibility. Even those times I threw my guts up."

"This?" I ask. "Are you referring to this situation or our baby?" I know that my voice is cold, but for some reason, her choice of words pissed me off.

Ana looks at me warily. "This unplanned pregnancy. Don't start to pretend that you're happy about this, Christian."

"I'm not, I also haven't had time to feel anything. I've known about this pregnancy for all of five seconds."

She laughs half-heartedly and shakes her head. "In my opinion, a man who's told he's to be a father would immediately be ecstatic," she retorts.

"Yeah, and in mine, a woman would act the same, Anastasia," I snap. I do my best to swallow my annoyance and irritation. Grey, she's sick and exhausted. She isn't herself – I can't keep my mouth shut, though. "At least my first thought wasn't having our baby aborted."

Ana stiffens and pulls her hand out of mine. "Everyone doesn't have the genius mind that Christian Grey does," she mumbles sarcastically. "The man who makes people feel insignificant and ignorant."

"What in the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with how I'm thinking about this pregnancy?" I raise the hand she abandoned and stroke her cheek with it. "When have I ever made you feel that way?"

She stares at me like I'm crazy. Her cheeks are a blazing red. Finally, her face has some color.

"You have to ask? Christian, you make everyone feel that way. I've wondered if you take pleasure in doing so."

I'm officially pissed all the way off. I take my hand off of her cheek and use it to grab my cell and text Taylor to tell him no one's allowed entry into this room.

I look back at Ana and her eyes are blazing.

"I'll ignore that remark, Anastasia. I don't know how that's applicable to what's going on-"

"What's going on?" she says loudly. "That's how you put it?"

"No, let's discuss our current situation."

"Fine. You're a potential father," Ana practically growls at me.

My heart skips a beat and my anger abates. Is she really considering aborting our baby or is she so exhausted she's had a mental breakdown? Because I'm looking around the room for my Ana, and I don't see her.

That fact breaks my heart. I want my Ana. This pregnancy has caused unknown emotions to erupt, even though I know they're new and will evolve. I'm pretty sure my genes are fucked-up and instilling them in a child is cruel, but Ana's attitude has me fighting the growing mist behind my eyes. Shit, I can't refer to her as this Ana or my Ana. She's still mine, for fuck's sake.

She takes my hand and it pulls me from my thoughts. She looks calm and concerned. I nearly pull my hand away. "I know that you don't want to be a father, Christian," she begins. "I saw how you paled last night when Kate brought up having children, and you've never expressed an interest in starting a family with me."

I shake my head. "No, we've always known we'd marry, Ana. You've always been vocal about wanting to be a mother. Maybe kids weren't talked about in a concrete manner, they were implied-"

"Implied? Did you really just say that? What was your response when I said that I wanted to be a mother?" she asks.

I'm floundering now because I honestly don't remember. I have to tell her the truth, though. "I didn't have one. I think we discussed and imagined having a child in the abstract. It wasn't like you ever asked me outright," I tell her.

She lays down. I pull the blanket over her trembling arms. She looks so small and sickly. "Did you hear Dr. Berman say the shot may have come from a bad batch?" her voice is barely audible. I think she's afraid of me going nuts at any moment over her being pregnant.

"Yes, I heard. Ana, I'd never think you'd get pregnant on purpose. Ever. I'm also not angry at you. What I am, is confused by your reaction. Did you really mean it when you said that you'd keep this from me?" Even I can hear the ragged emotion in my voice.

She looks so sad and I can't help but think I'm to blame. Is she scared of me? We've yet to talk about what she may have remembered. "I don't know. Look at me, I'm pregnant, it wasn't planned, and I'm sure that once you've had time to think about it, you're going to want me to have an abortion." She stops and looks up at the ceiling. "I'm twenty-two, and you shut me down whenever I say that I want to go back to work. You say that I'm not physically strong enough, too. That's what you tell me about everything that I want to do. So, do you think I'm physically strong enough to have a baby?" Her voice cracks on the last word, and without warning, tears fill her eyes.

I pull her into my arms, probably rougher than I should, and kiss her eyes. "Tell me what I can do, baby. Tell me, and I'll do it," I say. I'm desperate.

Ana allows me to hold her for a beat longer then sits up and looks down at me. She wipes her eyes and her face is one of stubborn determination. It's an expression that warns me not to interrupt her. "Christian, after Dr. Berman told me that I was pregnant…I was like you, I didn't have the advantage of time so I could properly think. I tuned her out the longer she talked. I was debating the matter in my mind – debating a life that an unplanned pregnancy presents." I watch Ana lick her lips. "My fear over your reaction made the idea of simply making this problem disappear plausible," she finishes, so matter of fact.

I glare at her. I'm beginning to feel an unrestrained anger towards this woman. Not anger over her falling pregnant or anger over her considering having an abortion. The anger is for her cold words that were spoken so callously. These words, her attitude, are so unlike her and it makes her dangerous to herself.

"What you mean is that you knew you have the power to decide whether our child would live or not," I snap at her.

Ana lifts her chin defiantly. She's oozing resolve. "It's an embryo. Not a child," she retorts. She says it so smoothly that it causes my lungs to collapse. It isn't because she's telling the truth, it's because of how she's saying it. Because this isn't how Ana, of even yesterday, would say this. Is she talking like this because of what happened last night?

"Ana, what in the hell are you thinking? I'm all for a woman having control over her body, but you're being so callous about me knowing you're pregnant. Fuck, I might not be ready to be a father, but I have a right to know that I impregnated you." My voice is just an octave below shouting.

The fact that I'm the one being somewhat calm and clear headed over Ana being pregnant is ridiculously amazing. I should be going out of my mind and losing my shit, and she should be the one talking me off the edge of sanity. My fucked actions are bad enough. Now there's this fresh hell.

Ana at least looks contrite. Tears are running down her cheeks and she's wiping them away swiftly. I don't doubt she's scared out of her mind. Her, what I believe, very mixed-up mind. Everything around us is an absolute disaster and I'm still not sure what category this disaster is.

"You're right," she starts. "I wouldn't…I couldn't do that, regardless of how you felt." She looks at me, and I'm proven right about her fear; I see it burning in her eyes. "How do you feel?" she whispers.

My mind goes blank. I know that I feel the possibility of being duped by Ana shocking, but the feeling that reigns supreme is terror. Complete and utter, bright red, burning terror. It must show on my face and Ana sees it because she's quick to cover her fear up.

"I knew it. This is too much. You can't handle it, and everyone knows that Christian Grey can't handle what's not planned or what he can't control."

I crumble, but say nothing as I watch the sorrow and confusion wash across her beautiful face. My thoughts are up in the atmosphere, different ways this could end are flying by us. There is a baby growing inside Ana's body. It's our baby. My DNA and Ana's DNA meshed together and set to create a human being that we will be responsible for. A human that would bind us for the rest of our lives. Fuck, can I be a father? I'm an unstable train wreck, however, something bright and beautiful has been placed in my hands, and it will be loved and protected.

I grab Ana and embrace her. Burrowing my face on her shoulder, I feel her that her neck is wet from tears. "You're right. I don't usually do anything unplanned, but this is different. I'm terrified, I won't lie. Shit, I don't know the first thing about being a father, but Ana, we both know you aren't going to terminate this pregnancy." I hold her tighter. "I respect that you have complete autonomy over your body, but I think that once the pregnancy sinks in, you're going to want to continue with this pregnancy," I whisper into her skin.

Ana's body is shaking as she weeps in my arms and I have to pry her arms from my neck to settle her back on the bed. I grab a box of tissues on her bedside table and wipe her face free of tears. She lets me tuck her in and I scoot close to her. My heart breaks as I take in her delicate, almost breakable, appearance. "Better?" I ask.

She nods and swallows. "Yeah, thank you. I'm sorry for being whatever it is that I am." Ana squeezes her eyes shut tightly. "I have all these strange feelings. I'm just so confused," she tells me. I stroke her hair and reassure her that she has nothing to be sorry about.

Nothing else about the pregnancy is spoken about and my mind settles on what I know I have to now do; I have to find out why Ana kept telling Dr. Berman that she wouldn't be my good girl. Those two words that signify her pleasing me sexually. Pleasing me, then I'd praise her, in those warped days when I was trying to mold her into a submissive. The days that saw me praise her like I was training a dog.

I hate myself

The only way to find out what, or if, she remembers is by asking. I just have to dive in, head first, and pray I don't break my neck by hitting the bottom of the pool of shit I've created. "Can I ask you about last night? You said the episode was different. Will you tell me what that means? You don't have to if it upsets you," I whisper. I hold my breath as I wait for her to reply.

"No, it doesn't upset me, it's just that it's hard to explain…I mean, it's hard for me to describe them so they make sense," she replies softly.

Her body language hasn't changed. She's still up against me. She didn't sound angry. Or afraid. Yet, anyway.

"Go, ahead. I'll listen." I'm so nervous that I can't keep my hands still. I'm wrapping the blue hospital blanket around her more snugly. Too snugly, because Ana kicks it away from her feet.

She blinks rapidly, her long eyelashes fluttering. "Well, you know about the aura."

I nod. I know about it, but it took Flynn an hour to explain it to me.

"It's like being bathed in light…under a stage light. Every aura that I've had…I saw the same white, translucent like light. Last night, it was different," she's telling me very quietly.

I frown, not knowing where this is going or how it intersects with those two loathsome words. "Different how?"

Ana's eyes are wide as saucers and boring into mine. I've had to school my expression and hope she doesn't say anything that will blow it off my face. "Everything went red," she says.

"Red?" I repeat. I repeat before the penny drops. "The light was red?"

She quickly nods her head. "Yeah, the light was red. A bright red. It was so bright that it felt like it burned my eyes." Ana shivers.

Red. Red. Red. Fucking hell. My stomach drops. Is it the fucking playroom? The red walls? Shit. Did she see red because she saw fucking Elena and her mind subconsciously went to the BDSM? Jesus Christ. She's just said that last night the color red exploded in her mind. Earlier, I heard her tell Dr. Berman she wouldn't be a good girl. My heart begins to race and I hope that she can't feel it since she's so close against me.

Increments.

Marshall, Berman, and Powell all told us that if her memory did return, it could all at once, or in sporadic and odd increments.

"It certainly doesn't represent your favorite color," I say, attempting to sound playful and not like I want to throw myself out of the window.

Ana shakes her head and looks dejected. "No, and I'd much rather be wrapped up in purple."

No matter, and I hate myself for doing it, I've got to delve further. "So, the aura just changed? You didn't remember anything?"

"I didn't. I mean, I didn't have a memory last night," she says.

What? Not last night? Does that mean something? Has she remembered something and not told me?

I pull my face back and study hers. She looks as guileless as she did the day we met. "That sounds like you've remembered something before. Have you?" I ask her. I sound concerned, because I am definitely concerned.

Ana exhales and shakes her head. "Ugh, this is all crazy and almost impossible to explain since I can't see anything," she says, emphasizing 'see'. "I don't know if their memories or not. Dr. Powell did say they could be, though."

"You've told Dr. Powell? Why haven't you told me?" My words are rapid. And I'm honestly irritated that something has happened and she hasn't shared it with me.

"Don't be upset, Christian. I didn't even tell Dr. Powell about them until I'd had them several times. Trust me, you don't want to hear it. It's too confusing and doesn't make any sense."

"You just asked me to trust you, when you didn't trust me to tell me. Instead, you only told Dr. Powell." I'm trying not to sound angry.

Ana's eyes widen again. "You're right. In my defense, I can't say they're memories or not. That's the main reason I haven't said anything to you. It's like seeing red last night, they don't make sense. I don't know how to describe them accurately and I was barely able to coherently convey them to Dr. Powell," she explains.

"I don't care, Anastasia. Tell me what you've remembered. Don't you think that I deserve to know?"

Her eyes start to water and I instantly feel like the hypocrite I am. I swallow the lump in my throat as shame floods me.

She moves out from the blanket and starts to stroke my hair. "It's not that I've seen…or remembered something. They're feelings."

"Feelings?" I repeat.

"Yeah, and I know it sounds stupid. It's honestly inexplicable…I get an overwhelming and uncomfortable feeling."

"Uncomfortable? As if you're in pain?"

What in the fuck has happened in her mind?

"No, no. No, pain…just strange…Let's just drop it. I told you I can't articulate it." She sounds exasperated but I can't let it go. I have to know.

"That sounds disturbing, Ana. I wish you would have shared it with me. Maybe I could have made you feel better," I reassure her.

She scoffs at me. "And confuse you like I am? Plus, I hate to think about them. They're what gives me nightmares."

I suddenly feel awful as I recall all of the nights my girl has woken me up screaming and crying. She was unable to tell me what her nightmares were about. She said she didn't remember. I wonder if at the time, that was true. I stroke her face. "Baby, you should have told me."

Ana looks distant and uncertain as I'm now stroking the side of her neck. I'm beginning to feel torn about continuing this inquisition. While it's clear as a bell that something is deeply bothering her, I don't think she's remembered the man I was in the beginning.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tell her, and I mean it.

Ana studies me and it's unbearable. She's exhausted, and I'm full of guilt. I kiss her forehead. "Promise you won't think that I'm crazy," she asks.

"I promise." I'm barely breathing at this point. I'd promise her anything if she'd just tell me.

"The feelings began shortly after we had that meeting with the cops and fire department. You know, after the apartment was set on fire." She sighs and looks confused.

I'm about to scream at her to hurry up and tell me.

"Well, the feelings…one day, I got this sick feeling in my stomach and began to feel uneasy. Really, really uneasy. Like something bad was going to happen. At the time, I attributed it to being upset about the apartment, but it continued, and was getting stranger." Ana stops. "Do you want me to tell you the rest?"

"Only if you feel like it," I reply, even though alarm bells are going off in my head.

"The feeling continued, and then others started coming on-"

"Others?" I interrupt her.

"Other feelings, and they were weirder…and worse. I started feeling ashamed. It was like I'd done something that I was ashamed of and didn't want anyone to know that I did. Then the fear set in. I was scared of something…but I just can't see what's making me feel all these crazy things."

I suck in a deep breath. Mother fucker. There's way more to this if she was telling Berman that she wasn't my good girl. But I don't think she's fully remembered, if she had, she'd surely have screamed on sight of me. Hoping I look encouraging, I nod at her to continue. Ana sniffs loudly, making me smile. A genuine smile. One that I don't deserve.

"I don't see a single thing. The feelings don't have an aura…everything is dark. It's just being consumed by feelings. I think I've done something wrong, but no matter how hard I try, I just can't figure out what." Ana closes her eyes. They're full of tears when she opens them. "Then…then…Christian, it feels like you're there. I sense your presence." Ana stops and begins to sob. I rub her back, even though I know I'm a dead man walking.

Fuck me running. There's no where that I can hide from this. I am at a loss for words, but I know, deep within me, that I'm going to have to find them.

The only sounds in the drab room are Ana's despondent sobs and the loud ticking of a clock over her bed. I grab more tissues to mop up her tears. I'm fighting the urge to breakdown before I have to tell her the truth. "Sshhh, baby. You don't have to finish. I can't stand to see you cry, Ana. Please," I mutter.

"No, Dr. Powell was right when she told me that I should tell you. She said I needed to ask you because I…I hear your voice, but you don't sound like you." Her face crinkles up, but she continues. "The tone of your voice is different. You sound so angry with me, and that's when I feel the shame. The voice, I mean your voice – sounds hard and indifferent. I've heard you…I've heard you reprimanding me," she whispers.

She's staring at me. Her demeanor is calm and her speech is slow. I watch her swallow her tears and snot. The piss thin tissues are doing nothing to mop the tears off her face and tears are dripping off of her chin. She's a wreck, and if I was strong enough, I'd tell her to stop, but I know exactly what she's describing, and I'm too much of a coward to make her stop talking.

"I've tried so hard to figure it all out. And it's your voice that frightens me the most. You sound so mad, but then you call me a 'good girl'…like you're praising me, you know?" she whispers.

Her blue eyes are so wide and confused. She's so pained and it's all my fault. That's the moment that I break into and can no longer stand with the bricks of deception on my back. I am done. Finished. I have deceived and lied in the name of love. I can be no more. This can't abide.

I face plant on the bed, and repeatedly bang my head on it, feeling wetness on my own cheeks. Guilt's gnawing me, and it has every right to do so. Ana's distress is killing me, and knowing that I'm the reason she has these disgusting feelings in her head, only twists the knife in my chest. I rightfully deserve it to do so.

She'll never forgive me for lying to her. I swore I'd always be honest, and I was until the attack. I'm a sinner that a baptism would not save. I promised that I'd never keep anything from her, yet I have - and I kept fucking doing it. Ana forgave me once, but she won't again, not after this. This is so much worse than the first time I caused her to leave me. She shouldn't forgive me.

Oh, fuck - she's pregnant with my baby. I contaminated this beautiful young woman before, but this is much, much worse. I'm contaminating an innocent life this time. No, I can't do that. I've committed unforgivable acts already. Ana can't keep a baby of mine. That's wrong. It would be so fucking wrong. My shoulders shake as I weep, face down before Ana, and as expected, she begins to comfort me. Me, the man who doesn't deserve her. I've never deserved her. I've never been worthy to bask in her sunshine.

"Christian, please don't cry," she pleads with me. "Stop. Christian, stop."

Like the chicken that I am, I childishly shake my head – refusing. I feel Ana's small fingers on my wet cheeks as she lifts my face. It's her turn to wipe tears away.

"I'm so sorry, Anastasia," I tell her, my voice is shaky.

"Whatever for?"

"Because of what you've gone through. What you've had to endure."

She looks at me with a confused expression. I can only imagine what she thinks of me – what she will think of me once she knows the ugly truth.

Ana vehemently shakes her head. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Christian. All of this is on that horrible man who did this to me. Hyde hurt me and caused my brain to play games with itself. You've done nothing wrong. You've stuck by me this entire time; you've held me together. You, Christian. It's been you." She sounds breathless. Her beautiful face looks so earnest. It's another reminder that I'm a fucking monster that no one should love.

How can I really love Anastasia if I've caused her to go through this shit? If I really loved her, I would have been honest from the moment she opened her eyes. Her life began to crumble into ruins the minute she met me, and now she's pregnant. I've completely ruined her; I'll devastate her life if she keeps my baby. No child should have me as their father.

"Christian, look at me!" she exclaims quite loudly. Her hands are splayed across the sides of my head, blue eyes searching mine. "I'm sorry I told you . . . I knew I shouldn't have ever told you. If I'd known you'd react this badly . . ." Ana words trail away, but she's still staring at me.

I drag her up and into my arms, hiding my face in her hair. "Oh, Ana," I moan, not from my own pain - but the pain I've made her feel – the pain she will soon feel.

Ana holds me, stroking my hair and running her fingers through it. I vaguely hear her talking to me, but can't comprehend what she's saying. I know that I don't deserve her love and comfort, so I move to pull away from her - she holds me tighter. Because I'm a weak excuse of a man and crave her, I stay in her arms, sobbing.

"Christian. Christian. Please, don't do this. I can't take this, please stop," she implores me.

I shake my head, only able to incoherently mumble into her hair. "I can't, Ana. Stop. You should stop, baby. Let me go…I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. Let me go," I mutter through my tears.

Ana shakes her head in defiance and confusion and adamantly refuses to release her hold on me. I can feel her breathing quicken on my neck. "No! Not until you calm down. I love you, and I'm so sorry that I told you about that nonsense. I didn't know it would upset you. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry, Christian. Please, stop."

"Anastasia, you don't understand. You have to listen to me. Those god damned feelings…are my fault," I groan, feeling her grip on me lessen slightly.

That slight move tells me my fate, and the world comes crashing down on me.

"What does that mean?" she breathes.

"Oh, baby, please, forgive me," I beg.

Ana quickly releases me and pulls back enough to see my face. Her expression is one of bewilderment. "Why would I need to forgive you, Christian? What have you done? How is what I told you your fault?" Her words are barely audible and she's now trembling.

I'm tearing at my hair, pulling at its roots. I want to reach out and touch her, ease the panic that's building inside of her. If I do touch her, I'm sure it will be the last time I ever do. No, I can't let that happen. I can't live without her. I pray for divine intervention. "You have to forgive me," I choke. "I can't live without you, Anastasia." I'm shaking my head to emphasize each word.

Ana gasps. My words spark an understanding, a confused understanding. It blatantly blazes on her wet face, her bloodshot eyes full of hurt. "That feeling . . . it's some sort of memory, isn't it? I can't see it, but it represents something, doesn't it?" she weakly asks, as she stumbles out of the bed and nearly slips down.

I get out of it too and she backs away from me. It's so reminiscent of the morning she left me after I belted her.

I nod, I nod, and I nod, as I watch her heart begin to break right before my eyes.

Again.

"What does it mean, Christian? The shame and fear . . . Oh, God, did you hurt me? Christian!" Ana's voice is rising so loudly that I'm sure everyone outside of this room can hear her. "Your voice - it sounds so mean and unfeeling . . . why? I thought, I thought it couldn't be real – it couldn't be you. I didn't believe it was real. It was real, wasn't it, Christian?"

I'm crying so hard that I can barely see her. I don't reply. I can't reply. My shirt is soaked from my tears – tears I deserve.

"Tell me!" she yells. Her panic is painfully clear. I remain mute. "Oh, God. What does this mean? You were reprimanding me – for what? What did you do to me? That memory," she means something bad, doesn't it? Doesn't it, Christian?"

I have to admit it. I owe it to her. The truth. Ana deserves to know the truth. I cover my face with my hands. I can't look her in the face while I tell her. "Anastasia," I begin. My voice is garbled and sounds childlike.

"Look at me," she replies. I draw in a large gulp of air and exhale before removing my hands. I use the back of my hands to wipe my face and force myself to meet her gaze.

Seeing her, my Ana – my beautiful Ana, makes me realize that I can't allow her to slip through my fingers. There has to be a way to salvage this.

"Am I right? Have I remembered something? Is that fucked-up shit an actual memory?" she asks.

I swallow. "In a fashion, yes."

Ana's breathing so hard that I'm afraid she's going to hyperventilate. "What does that mean?" she shrieks. A white wall is holding up her small frame.

"It's not . . . It's not as bad as you're imagining."

"As bad? As bad as what? What did you do? Did you do something to hurt me? What happened? Your voice . . . your voice..." Ana points at me as her words trail away.

They're probably headed to where her thoughts are. I'm all too aware of what she's thinking, and what she's going to say. Her gasp confirms it. "Christian, you were praising me, weren't you? What did you make me do that pleased you . . . that made me feel ashamed?"

Reaching for her, she continues to move around the room, and I swallow back a sob.

"Anastasia, I didn't . . . make you—"

She looks horrified. "Make me do what?" she stutters, causing my tears to resume.

"Baby, let me explain—"

"Do not call me baby. I think you hurt me, and any explanation you have doesn't mean shit.

Did you really call me that?" she demands.

My head drops. I knew I should never have twisted our past. I should have been decent enough to tell her everything and chance repulsing her from the minute I walked into her hospital room months ago. Even if it meant she left me. But I didn't. I never even gave her the opportunity to know how we came together – to understand and decide for herself if she still wanted to be with me. I stole her right to decide for herself if she considered me a sick fuck.

Jesus, can I salvage this? Is it possible to calm her down enough so I can explain everything to her? I only know one thing – I cannot lie. Not now. "

"Call you what?" I whimper.

"Don't play stupid," Ana's grinding her teeth together. "Admit it; tell me. Say it, Christian."

"I did say it, but—"

"Stop!" she hollers. "You can try to justify it later. I want to hear you say the words. Say what you called me. I have to know that I wasn't imagining it. I want to hear you say it now."

Anastasia will never understand.

No one would.

Our eyes lock, and I nod. "I called you my good girl."

She doesn't blink. She doesn't look away. Her eyes don't tear up. If anything, she looks as though she's in complete shock.

When she finally does break our gaze, she looks towards the door to her room.

"I'd run out of this room if I didn't know your attack dogs were guarding it and wouldn't let me leave," she tells me. "Or I could hit the nurse's call light and scream for help. Ray's probably still around. I'm sure he'd kick your ass if he walked in on this."

I nod. "He would. But no one would keep you from leaving. They'd take you somewhere and stay with you to keep you safe, but no one is going to force you to stay around me," I tell her. That isn't a total lie. The only person who is going to keep her around me, is me.

Ana looks in the mirror over the sink. Her hair is a long mane of tangles and her hospital gown is barely covering her. Her face is tear streaked and she's wiping snot off her face with the back of her hand. "I look like I've been in a street fight," she says, more to herself, I think.

I take stock of myself. My soaked dress shirt, top buttons of my pants torn off. A sock is missing. My head hurts from crying. My heart hurts from how I've hurt Ana. I feel like a broken jaw. "I feel like I've been in one," I reply.

Ana tosses some water on her face and dries it with a flimsy towel that's nearby. She looks around the room. "Do I have any clothes here?" she asks. She sounds surprisingly calm.

"Yes, Gail sent some. They're in the bathroom."

She disappears and shuts the bathroom behind her. I almost grab my cell to let Taylor we're ready to leave, but remembered that Ana will have to be discharged first. Though considering the circumstances, she might just walk out of the door and leave without regard for anything.

She's right about Ray, though. If he were to see how upset she is, he would most likely beat my ass and follow through on what he said about taking her to Montesano with him. That wouldn't happen even if I sent a hundred security members with them. Ana isn't going anywhere unless she's with me. Especially now.

The case that holds the truth of our relationship has only been partially cracked. I still have to tell Anastasia everything, and the sooner the better. I think she wants to know everything. She's too curious, and I know she must be sick of being confused. Now she knows Pandora's box has been opened and she's going to want to see everything that it contains.

I'm putting on my last shoe when Ana exists the bathroom. Gail sent her a pair of gray leggings and an oversized pink sweater. Her hairs piled on top of her head so I'm assuming Gail also sent a hair tie. She stares at the wall behind me with a blank look on her face.

I feel like garbage for being the reason for that look. And I dread the look I'll see on her face once she knows everything that's hidden around her. I don't even know how I'm going to begin that conversation. How do you tell someone that you beat them with a belt and make them believe that they forgave you? That they took you back and had a loving relationship with them?

"I suppose I have to be discharged before I can leave this place," she says numbly.

"I told Taylor to find someone who could expediate that."

Ana raises an eyebrow. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she says sarcastically.

"Gail made you some chicken stew. I know you must be hungry," I tell her. Fuck knows that I'm starving, and that's a feeling I don't tolerate.

Before she can reply, the door opens and a male nurse walks into the room with several papers for Anastasia to sign and he reads her the routine do's and don'ts that we've heard dozens of times. Once he's gone, I gather my coat and reach to open the door. Ana stops me.

"Did everyone leave? I don't have to face anyone do I?" she asks.

"You mean your dad and my family? Kate?"

"Exactly."

"No, they've been gone for hours," I reply.

"Did Ray go back to the penthouse?"

"No."

Ana looks puzzled. "No? He left without saying goodbye?"

"Not exactly. He wrote you a note that he left with Taylor to give you. Then he went to Escala and got his stuff and went home."

"Ray left a note?" she goes on.

I shrug. "Yes, get it from Taylor." I open the door and we walk out together. Taylor and Parson are waiting on us.

"Sawyer's getting the SUV, sir," Parson tells me.

I nod distractedly. I'm watching Taylor hand Ana an envelope. Obviously, the note from Ray.

She tears it open and her eyes scan it quickly. Her brows furrow and she bites her lower lip She looks confused. I watch her read it again. Then she folds it twice and slides it up the arm of her sweater since she doesn't have any pockets in her leggings or her purse. I can't help but wonder what he wrote to her.

We drive to Escala in silence. It's unbearable and grates on my nerves. I'd rather be on an airplane with a screaming infant. I'd rather hear Anastasia screaming at me. I sit. I sit and ponder how I'll start this discussion and wonder how it will go. I wonder how she'll take it. I wonder if we'll survive it. I know that if we don't, I won't survive another minute on this planet. Nothing will be worth having. There will never be another woman. It's Anastasia. Only Anastasia.

We enter the lobby of the building and barely make it into the elevator before the doors close. She's standing as far away from me as she can possibly get. I eye her warily. This doesn't bode well since she doesn't even know the worst.

Ana exhales loudly and looks at me. "How bad is it?"

"Is what?" I ask.

"What you're going to tell me."

Jesus, she can read me like a book. I hadn't even told her there was more. Then again, I should have known that she was going to demand better answers to the whiny bullshit I was spouting off in the hospital.

"I can't answer that, Anastasia, only you can. What I can do, is tell you that I'm not the man you first met. You're going to doubt that, I know that you are, but promise me that when you do, you'll think of the man you know me to be now," I say hoarsely. "That's the man I am, the man you love, and the man who loves you desperately."

Ana is looking at me, and as usual, I can't tell what she's thinking.

"I'm going to tell you the man I was, and the man that I became when I met you. The man that I am now. All I ask is that you listen and know that I love you. Please."

I'm ready to get on my knees and beg when the elevator stops and the doors slide open.

Ana walks in ahead of me and heads into the bedroom. While she's in there I tell security to head to their quarters and turn off the CCTV. If my life is about to shatter, I don't want video taped evidence.

I go into the bedroom and change into a t-shirt and pajama pants. I hear Ana in the bathroom brushing her teeth. She walks out wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. She's taken her hair down. Her lovely, exhausted, and hurt face breaks my heart. I take in her body and it hits me that there's a baby inside of her. That causes further hurt.

Anastasia is standing there with her arms at her sides. She's waiting for me to begin. I just don't know how to. I just don't want to.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you said anything? Are you stalling or are you going to drag it out?"

"That's not my intention," I tell her.

"Well, why are you just standing there quiet and staring at me like that?

"I'm quiet because I'm unsure how to begin this conversation and I'm staring at you because you're beautiful, even if you're engulfed in my t-shirt."

"You know, I've begun to wonder, that perhaps, being the center of your attention is a bad place to be," she says, although I don't quite know what she's referring to, if anything.

"Do you want to eat first?"

Ana shakes her head. "I'm nauseous."

I say nothing. She says nothing.

We stare at one another.

And then she slightly cocks her head. "Mr. Grey?"

"Miss Steele?"

She uses an arm to gesture around the room. "I do believe that you have the floor."

I'd like to thank everyone who is reading and enjoying the story. Also, thank you to the readers who leave reviews. They are appreciated and encouraging.