Dear readers: this is the first of two chapters that conclude Love, Interrupted.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-One

~Anastasia~

"Fucking hell. I don't understand this shit," Jack says, his voice is low and hoarse. It's rough and I imagine him gargling rocks. No, choking on a rock.

He sounds confused. I'm confused. Were my eyes messing with my head? He shifts beside me as I watch the full view down the stairs dim. Jack's arm slightly lowers the flashlight, causing me to lose sight of the stairwell's ceiling and the chain that turns the light bulb on. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming in frustration as the chain disappears. The light fades and is cast on the floor. I watch darkness envelope the stairwell. A faint orange shadow covers us. It's eerie, and this man is nuts if he thinks he's going to force me down into the basement.

Where is Slade? Maybe he got smart and realized what he's gotten himself into and made a run for it. But Jack says his car is still here. Perhaps Slade's down in the basement too stoned to hear Jack ripping his throat into pieces screaming for him.

Jack's right about one thing: What the hell is going on?

Maybe everything I thought was a coincidence, although, I've heard Christian countlessly say that nothing is coincidental. I shut my eyes for a split second and remember the tires being cut on Christian's Audis during the party. No doubt a distraction that these two imbeciles were behind.

I think my theory of help being in the house is wrong. My shoulder's drop from disappointment.

I want to reach out and raise Jack's arm so I get a full view of the stairway, hoping to find out if my eyes really were playing tricks on me. But I don't dare touch him. He's finally let me go and is scratching the side of his bearded face. Our shoulders are touching, and a chilly blast of air floats up from the basement and touches my feet. Still, I stare down the steps. My toes are dug into the sill. My heart's beating faster, and I'm beginning to panic.

Not now, Ana. Not now.

The sweatpants I'm wearing slip down, so I reach to fold them over several times before they slide off. My palms are slick from sweat. I wipe them on the hem of my shirt.

Without moving the Maglite, Jack inches backwards. I turn my head and stare at him. He's squinting around our darkened surroundings. The living area is barely lit from the Maglite I left in the room. He's looking everywhere but down the basement stairs. I'm not sure if he's looking for Slade or divine intervention.

Shaking my head, I wipe my cold fingers across my forehead. How in the hell can I get out of here? I'm weak, and my body is sore. I'm not even sure if I'm physically able to try to escape Jack. Closing my eyes for a moment, I recall my surroundings. Behind us are the stairs that lead to the second floor. Is my hope that someone is up there to rescue me farfetched? Digging my fingernails into my forehead, I go over what happened earlier.

"The broken window," I murmur.

"What did you say?" Jack asks.

I jump and open my eyes. I didn't mean to say that out loud. "Nothing," my reply is hoarse.

He stares at me for a fraction of a second but doesn't respond.

Pushing matted hair off of my cheeks, I look down the basement. Jack hasn't moved his arm and the light is still trained on the stairs.

Suddenly nauseous from what feels like an unexpected blow to my stomach, I hold my breath and my hand automatically reaches for the door jamb. I'll collapse if I'm not holding onto something. I tense my body so I don't make a sound.

Nothingness rises from the basement. Jack is quiet.

We are wrapped in silence.

I grip the door jamb tighter. I try to swallow and nearly choke when I find that I can't. My knees want to buckle and I feel the same impotence as I did in the bathroom when I was trying to call for help.

My eyes are locked on the stairs.

My chest begins to hurt as I watch a black boot silently land on the first step that I can see. Am I having a heart attack? Is this what having a heart attack feels like?

Who is this?

I don't believe this is Slade.

Another wave of cold air rises from below. It hits my face and I shudder. I watch the boot silently land on the next step as well as a knee, bent and covered in black fabric. I wish that I could see better, but the light is too dim.

However, my hope has been restored. I'm elated. I'm also scared to death.

Jack is a few inches away from me. He's still staring into the living room. His brows are furrowed and I can tell he's on edge.

Holy, shit.

Don't look into the basement, Jack. Please, God.

What's happening? Oh, my God. What's happening?

Someone is crouch-walking up the stairs. A boot lands on the next concrete step. It's only seconds. It's only a breath, but it feels like an eternity.

Up, up, up. They are stealth.

I'm mesmerized. It's eerily quiet as I fall against the wall. My head is swimming and I'm trembling violently.

Who in the hell is this?

The orange tinted stairs are unforgiving. I watch boots land on a few more steps before my unbelieving eyes land on the face of Tyler Parson.

Almost collapsing from relief, I exhale.

Thank God.

Parson.

He's dressed head to foot in black tactical gear and holding a rifle that looks straight out of a military Special Ops team. The stock is dug deep in one of his shoulders.

Another step allows my rattled brain to take in the gun's sights and suppressor. His head is cocked. One eye squinted. He's zoned in and never acknowledges me. He never looks at me.

From my limited view, I can't see anyone covering his back. However, I know Tyler Parson, and I don't believe he needs back up. He's focused on his target, Jack Hyde, a man that I know Parson has wanted to find so he could avenge me. He's felt responsible for Hyde attacking me that evening at SIP, and blames himself that Jack escaped. I've been told what happened that night; I know that I pulled a runner and Parson shouldn't feel guilty. I've wanted to find a way to wipe away that guilt, but everyone says that won't happen until Parson finds Jack.

Well, he's finally found his prey.

Oh, my God. I don't think this is a rescue mission or Parson is here to just capture Jack. From the looks of the rifle he's currently got aimed at Hyde, I wonder if he's here to take him out. Has someone given Tyler Parson the green light to kill him?

Surely not. Jason and the men he employs don't kill people.

At least I don't think they do.

But this gun? It's one that I recognize as a weapon the military and law enforcement use in close quarter combat. Shit. This type of gun, from this short of a distance? Parson would blow Jack into pieces.

Other than Jack's breathing, the house is silent. My head is aching and my chest hurts with every heartbeat. I hold my breath and wait. I watch. I wait.

I don't hear Tyler. He has climbed up the stairs like a ghost and Jack Hyde is in his crosshairs. Is he going to shoot him? My mouth dries because, I think yes, yes, Parson is about to kill a man.

Jack drops the Maglite and it clatters to the floor, causing me to jump out of my skin. The noise bounces off the walls around us and darkness covers the stairwell. Damn, I want to be able to see Parson. Now all is pitch black, and I don't know what the hell is about to happen. I can't see Parson, but I know that he can see me, and unfortunately for Jack, Parson can see him, too.

"He can see me. He can see me," I chant in my mind. It's cold in this house, but sweat is running down my back. I can't believe this is my life.

"I'm going to have to go out in this shit and double check that his car is here," Jack grumbles. "But…I didn't hear one leave. Fucking bastard." He doesn't move, though. I can sense his growing anger.

Grabbing the side of the door jamb with both of my sweaty hands, I place my forehead on it and press my body into the wall. Jack can fuck off if he thinks he's going to tell me to do anything. I'll let go of this wall when I hear his body drop to the floor.

Because I know it's going to.

Tyler, do it. Please. Take the shot.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack asks when I won't let go of the door jamb. He reaches for my forearm and I yank it away. His fingers slip off of my sweatshirt and before he can grab me again, before I can pull away or inhale, I hear Parson.

I don't hesitate.

"Mrs. Grey, get down! Get down! Now!" His loud orders reverberate around me. They rattle my thoughts. "Now! Drop to the floor!" he yells.

Instantly, my knees hit the floor, hard, and I curl into the fetal position. Squeezing my eyes shut, my hands fly to cover my ears.

I hear the first suppressed gun shot and my body involuntarily jerks. My teeth clench and I swear the floor shakes. Three more shots scream into the air, and I begin to cry. I don't recognize the sound of my voice. It's as though I'm underwater and my eardrums have been blown.

Something warm sprays onto my face and neck. I try to squirm away when I feel heavy weight drop on me. It doesn't move. I'm not stupid. Jack's dead body has fallen on me and I'm probably covered in his blood. I'm crying and screaming wordlessly.

I've got to get out of here. Please get me out of here. Please, Parson.

I hear the distant thunder of feet growing closer. It sounds like they're all around me, but I refuse to open my eyes to be sure. People are loudly talking, but it still sounds like I'm under water.

I feel the dead weight lifted off of me, and then Jason's mouth is hovering over my ear. "Don't open your eyes, Mrs. Grey," he says.

I continue to cry. Snot is running into my mouth and the metallic odor around me causes me to retch. My hands remain over my ears.

"For fucks sake, can I get a rag or something? Mrs. Grey needs to be cleaned up. Now." That's Tyler and his voice is raised.

"Tyler," I choke out. I start to cough, a ball of phlegm sticks onto the sides of my throat. "Tyler!"

"I'm right here, Mrs. Grey. Are you hurt?" he asks. He rolls me over and I stretch my legs out so I'm no longer in the fetal position. His hands gently roam over my body.

I don't answer him.

"Are you injured?" Jason asks. His warm breath still hits my hear. His voice still sounds underwater.

"No. I mean, my arms are bruised and sore from being tied up…I think I'm okay," I whisper. My words come out between hiccupping sobs that I'm trying to control.

I feel something warm wiping the side of my face and neck.

"Just cleaning you up. That's all. You're okay," Parson addresses me, then I hear, "Find something we can change her into," Parson orders someone. I feel the heat of his body move a fraction. "Move. We've got to get this off of her," he finishes.

Who is he talking to? The cops? Are the cops here, too?

"Mrs. found, and doesn't appear to be seriously injured. Yes, only one ambulance is required. Yes, sir. Both." Jason sounds distant, like he's moved away from us, but I know it's my dull hearing.

He had to have been talking to Christian, who I know is freaking the hell out. Oh, how I want Christian. I want Teddy.

I also want to know how these guys made it down to this house. Slade said the place was far down a back road. How did anyone, much less an ambulance, drive down a one-way dirt road without Jack and Slade hearing them? How did all of these people make it into the house?

Gentle, but strong arms lift me bridal style. I reach out and grab the shirt of whoever is holding me. Clutching it, I inhale. My fingers feel a bullet proof vest.

"Mrs. Grey," Parson says close to my ear. "If anyone you don't know asks you anything, say you don't remember. I'd prefer you remain quiet. Only talk to me or Taylor. Do you understand me?"

I say nothing, so he gently shakes me. "Did you hear me?" he asks. Still holding me, he begins to walk. I nod against his chest.

I don't dare open my eyes. I'm too afraid of what I'll see. Quickly, the arms that held me, sit me upright. They stay around my shoulders.

"You're on a bed, Mrs. Grey, but keep your eyes closed. We're going to get this sweatshirt off," Parson says softly.

My body sags as the adrenaline that was fueling it evaporates, and I think that I'm going to blackout.

"Ana, we've got to get you out of that shirt. There's a Detective Addison, from the Puyallup PD here. She can help you," Parson tells me.

The cops are here. Well, of course they are.

"Hi, Mrs. Grey. I'm Detective Sabra Addison." Her voice is soft. "I can help you if you'd like-" she tells me.

I interrupt her. "Is it just blood? Are his brains on me?" I ask through chattering teeth as bile rises from my stomach. I want to throw up.

Parson doesn't let her answer. "Let her help you," he says kindly in a soft and comforting voice.

I've always felt a kinship with Parson due to what happened the night my life was reset, even if I don't remember everything. He's always treated me…gently and kindly. I understand why, but I know that while he wanted a second chance to get Hyde, he knew that I feel like Jack stole power from me, and that I was thirsty to regain it.

Parson is being gentle with me right now, but that's not important. What is, is knowing that the universe gave him a rare second chance, and in his heart, Parson has redeemed himself. He needed this; he deserved to feel the satisfaction of handing out justice. He had been hungry for it for far too long. Tonight he was finally allowed to eat.

I really want to open my damn eyes. "Okay," I finally say.

"It will be fine if you open your eyes once this off," Detective Addison tells me.

"Is it that bad?" I ask.

"You don't need to see it, Mrs. Grey," she replies, skating around the issue of what the hell is soaking through the sweatshirt I'm wearing.

I feel cold scissors skim my skin as she cuts through the fabric. My body chills once the sweatshirt falls away.

"Let me slip this over your head," she tells me. Her touch is soft. "Okay, you can open your eyes if you'd like. You're good."

I look around the room. It's the one I was trapped in. It, like the rest of the house, is lit up. I don't ask how they managed to do it. Detective Addison sits beside me on the bed. She says nothing as I numbly take in everything. Men and women, law enforcement and Jason's detail walk around with ease. Each is wearing black tactical clear. Guns like Tyler's hang from shoulder straps.

I have so many questions, but know that I have to keep my mouth shut until this woman gets away from me.

"Is that better? Warm enough?" she asks me.

I nod.

"Would you like some water?" she goes on.

I nod once more and watch her disappear. My ears are still ringing. Jason and Tyler tower over me.

"How long have you been inside?" I whisper. I look up at Jason. Wilson, another of his guys, is now beside me, and begins cleaning up the dried blood on my wrists. Whatever he's using hurts.

"Around three hours," Jason answers.

Three hours? What time is it? I think about the time I spent with those idiots and anger flares against the men around me.

"You couldn't rescue me then?" My whisper sounds indignant.

Wilson, the one working on my wrists, rubs it with alcohol and I jerk it out of his hands. "Please, Mrs. Grey, they need to be cleaned," he says.

Parson gives me pointed look. Sighing, I give Wilson my arm back. The alcohol stings.

"We didn't have the opportunity, Mrs. Grey." Jason answers me.

"You were the broken window?" I ask.

Parson nods.

"Well, why didn't you get me then?" I hiss in a low voice.

"If we'd have grabbed Robbins then, you'd have been left alone with Hyde and he would have noticed that his buddy didn't return. We couldn't take the chance of him harming you," Parson answers.

My eyes roam around the room and I feel dizzy. The paper plate beside me still holds my slice of pizza.

"Why didn't you go for it once you turned the lights off?" I ask.

Parson rubs the back of his neck and he makes a face.

"The power going out wasn't us. You can blame the weather. It really screwed up-" Jason begins.

"Why didn't you kill Jack after you ki…" The hushed words trail off. I can't finish the sentence.

"Mrs. Grey..." Parson warns me.

"Don't you think it's time you start calling me Ana?" I interrupt whatever it is he's about to say. "If there is a time to break Christian's name protocol, I think it's right now." My voice cracks.

"Ana, I don't know if you were aware of this, but Slade was armed." Jason speaks firmly and holds my eyes. He hasn't told me anything, and he is completely unapologetic about it.

I look out into the hallway that's crawling with people. Slade had a gun? Where the fuck was he hiding a gun? Why didn't I see it?

Looking Jason in the eyes, I say, "I didn't see a gun."

Jason and Parson sigh together.

"There was a gun," Parson murmurs.

"Where?" I mutter, then frown. Why don't they just tell me? It's all over.

Parson shakes his head. They aren't going to tell me how they know.

"They knew you were coming off the drugs you'd been given and you were scared. They didn't take you as a threat," Parson says as if that's an answer.

"Well, I guess he doesn't read the newspaper. If he had, he'd know what I can do with a gun." I give them all a dirty look and they return it with raised eyebrows. They know that this situation was very different, and more dangerous than the one with Leila Williams.

My wrists burn and my eye lids are getting heavy. "Did you kill Robbins?" I ask quietly.

"You don't need to worry about that, Ana," Jason says.

I close my mouth. My eyes dart to Tyler. He's reverted back to Jason's employee, and not my champion. I don't bother to ask him. I already know. They killed him.

Were the police a part of this? Do they shoot kidnappers on sight? My head hurts, I'm exhausted, and so confused.

"Okay, Mrs. Grey, it's time to get you out of here. An ambulance is waiting," Wilson says, standing up.

"I don't need an ambulance," I protest.

Parson nods his head. "Yes, you do. We'll take the SUV," he replies. "Mr. Grey is waiting for you."

"The SUV?" I mumble.

"Yes, ma'am," Wilson replies, not explaining what's going on.

They never do.

"Wilson, get those blankets and wrap them around her," Jason tells him. "Is the vehicle close enough to the porch?"

"Affirmative," Parson answers after looking out a window.

I'm bundled up like a burrito, not complaining because I'm finally warm. I vaguely wonder where Detective Addison went off to. She never brought me the water she promised. Parson lifts me into his arms before I can ask about her. Then he's quickly stepping outside and the rain feels like pelts of ice. It's dark and the wind is as unforgiving as it sounded inside.

The back rows of the SUV have been taken out and after some maneuvering, I end up across Parson's lap. The interior light is on and the heat is blasting. Jason is at the wheel and giving orders. I don't care what they are or who he's giving them to.

"How did you guys drive this to the house. I don't understand how those lunatics didn't hear you," I ask Parson.

He shakes his head at me, "We didn't," is all he says.

I'd slap him if my arms were free. "Oh, my God. How did you get to the house?"

He pushes his wet hair back and one side of his mouth turns up into a small smile. "Ana, does it matter? I don't mean that unkindly-"

"You can't tell me, I get it." I sigh and settle in his lap.

Closing my eyes, I feel my heart beating in the side of my aching head. The ride isn't smooth and I'm jostled around in Parson's arms. Wincing, I move my head away from his chest.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Grey?" he asks.

Opening my eyes, I lick my dry lips. "Ana. I told you. Call me, Ana."

"Are you okay, Ana?"

"Yes, I have a headache. A plain and regular headache. Not a fall down unconscious headache, so don't worry."

Parson's peering down at me. His face is expressionless. I'm clueless as to what he's thinking. He nods. "Good," he begins. "The doctors will check you out."

I try to wiggle my way out of my confines and loudly protest. I don't want to see the inside of a hospital; however, I understand that I have to go. Truthfully, and horribly, I'm still in the dark about what might have happened to me while I was drugged out of mind. I could have been raped and I'm aware they're going to exam me to find out. Hot tears begin to fill my eyes as I imagine the abuse, remember what I went through, and how terrified I was.

I bite my lip to keep a sob from choking me. Tears run down my face, and Parson reaches down and wipes my tears with the blanket that I'm wrapped in.

"It's going to be fine, Ana. You're safe now, I promise," he says softly. "Everything is fine. You're going to be okay."

His words cause a chasm a mile long to break within me and the first loud cry rips out of my parched mouth like a hurricane. My body, sore, bruised, and weary, is a wave of convulsing sobs in Parson's lap. Each one, visceral and painful. The hurt stretches from my head to my toes and I can't control it. I don't know if this is from relief, exhaustion, or part of being drugged. I just know that I can't stop what's happening within my body.

Parson stops wiping my face and just holds me while I cry, remaining silent. There's nothing that he can say to make me feel better, and I'm grateful that he seems to know that.

I'm able to stop crying and my lids hurt over sore eyes. My throat is scorched. Squinting as flashing lights fill the SUV, I loudly inhale snot. Parson peers down at me. One side of his face is illuminated red. Once more, he gathers the blanket and cleans my face.

I don't hear any sirens as the vehicle rolls to a stop. The doors click as they're unlocked, and when they're opened, thundering noise explodes. It's a mass that's jumbled together and sounds like a language I've never heard before. Keeping my eyes on Parson, I watch as he raises an arm and waves at someone outside of the SUV.

The back door is thrown open and cold air slams into my face, blinding me in the darkness. Two hands pull me out of Parson's lap effortlessly and suddenly I'm out in the wind and rain, an arm under my neck and another under my knees. I'm lifted up and tucked into a warm neck. Inhaling, I relax as my lungs drag in the smell of him. I don't bother looking at his face as I feel him swallowing.

Christian.

I grip his coat and burrow my face in it. Tears well in my eyes.

"Fucking Christ, Anastasia. I've got you, baby. I've got you," he says. His voice is scratchy and I can hear his rapid heartbeat. He's shaking.

Christian pulls the blankets over my head and bows his body over mine protectively as he quickly strides away from the SUV. The flashing lights dance around us and he walks directly into the thundering noise. He's murmuring words into my hair that I can barely make out. My limbs have slacked and my body bounces as he walks. His steps don't falter.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," he repeats.

"Christian-" I start.

"Hush. We're getting in the ambulance. You'll be warm." He shifts me in his arms.

"You need help, Mr. Grey?" I hear Jason ask.

"No, shut the doors behind me," Christian tells him.

Christian steps up, and before I can inhale, warmth envelopes me. I'm gently placed on a stretcher and strapped down by what looks like a car's seatbelts. The doors slam closed.

My husband's face comes into full view and he places his hands on the sides of my head. With tears in his bloodshot eyes, he lowers his forehead to rest on mine and he takes a shaky breath.

"You're going to be okay, Ana. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you again. Ever," he whispers against my skin.

"I was so scared." My words are barely audible.

"I'm sorry." Christian raises his head and kisses my forehead repeatedly. "I'm sorry. It was our fault. We were worrying about fucking dumb shit and…I swear it will never happen again. I love you, so much."

I can barely hear him.

"Mr. Grey, I need to check Mrs. Grey out," a woman's voice says over my head. She strapped me onto the stretcher and is already on the receiving end of a Christian Grey death glare. She's an older woman who doesn't appear to be fazed by him. To his credit, Christian pushes the blankets off me and backs away. I keep my eyes on his. He's wearing the clothes from the party with a rain coat over them. His shirt is untucked and soaked copper hair is pointing in all directions. He's a mess and looks exhausted.

Within seconds, the gray-haired woman is smiling at me. "Mrs. Grey, I'm Kay, and I need to assess how you're doing."

The ambulance begins to move. My eyes flit from Kay to my husband, who's sitting on a bench opposite of me. "Okay. I'm not hurt." I tell her.

Her gloved hand picks up a wrist and Christian's expression goes from pained to furious in a blink of my eye when he sees it.

She places my arm across my abdomen. "I'm sure that's tender. Are you in pain?"

"I have a headache."

"Why didn't you say so, Ana? Is it-" Christian's saying before I interrupt him.

"No, it isn't. I've had it since I woke up. You know, waking up from whatever they gave me," I say quietly.

Kay raises my shirt and begins to put sticky patches on my chest and attaches leads to a heart monitor on them. A blood pressure cuff is inflating on my arm. She's scribbling on her blue latex glove with an ink pen.

Christian shocks me by keeping his mouth shut while she works me over. I look past her and meet his gaze.

"Where are we?" I ask, curious if what I think I heard from Jack and Slade was the truth.

"Puyallup," he says.

I nod, opening my mouth to fill him in on what I heard, only to shut it when Christian puts an index finger up to his lips. I guess everything that happened has to be a secret, until it's told to MI6, that must now be run by Jason Taylor. I feel the frown on my face turn to alarm when I see Kay settling beside me to start an IV in the bend of my elbow. I pull away. She pulls my arm back.

"Mrs. Grey, you need IV fluids," she says firmly.

"Why?" I ask.

"Anastasia, if you need them, you need them. Please." Christian's bent over on the bench across from me, forearms on his knees.

Kay's already swabbing my skin with Betadine and then I feel the prick and sting. "Mrs. Grey, this IV might be uncomfortable but it's needed," she says.

I exhale through pursed lips and sag into the stretcher. Suddenly, a thought that shakes me comes flying out of my mouth and I raise my head to look at Christian.

"Teddy!" I exclaim. I try to sit up but the straps are too tight. The heart monitor begins to beep as my heart rate spikes.

Christian makes a move to get closer to me, but Kay's in the way putting something on my index finger. I almost shake it off.

Christian shifts in my direction. "Teddy is fine. Don't worry. Once we realized that you'd been taken, the house went on lock down. Teddy, along with Mom and Dad, got into the panic room. Gail, as well. Two security guys were with them."

I begin to cry. "My poor baby boy. I was so afraid that I'd never see him again. He's really OK?"

Christian nods. "Yes. I've spoken with Mom several times, and she said that Teddy slept through much of it. I promise that he's fine."

"How could he have slept through that?"

My husband grins. "I guess he gets the ability to sleep through everything from his mommy."

He's trying to lighten the situation but it takes a nose dive when I remember my best friend. Jack said that Kate had overdosed.

"How's Kate? Jack said that she overdosed, but wouldn't tell me how she was. Tell me she's fine, please. Tell me that she's fine."

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. "Kate did overdose, but they got her to the hospital in time and she's doing better. I spoke with Elliot about an hour ago, and she's awake. Groggy and confused, but awake. There are no ill effects, and she's in ICU. He said she'll be moved to a regular room tomorrow."

I continue to cry. "What hospital is she in? When can I see her?"

"She's in Harborview, and I don't know when you can see her. My priority is taking care of you. Try not to worry about Kate. Her parents and Elliot are there and she's receiving the best care there is."

I groan. "Harborview? She's in critical care? But she's awake?"

Christian nods. "Yes, and demanding to know where you are. She doesn't know what happened. Elliot and her parents decided to tell her that you're fine and in the hospital."

I sag into the uncomfortable pillow under my head and exhale. More tears flood my eyes and I go to wipe them away, but the IV in the crook of my elbow hurts. Christian wipes them.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "We never should have attended that damned party. The next time I'll listen to Taylor."

My eyes meet his. "He didn't want us to go?"

"No. He said he didn't have enough detail to cover the place, and it turns out he was right. He's also blaming himself for what happened to you. Says he shouldn't have lost his head over the cars, and should have realized it was a diversion of some sort." He's speaking in a low voice. Kay's moved to the other side of the ambulance, but it's obvious he doesn't want her to hear us.

The blood pressure cuff inflates so tightly that I grimace. You'd think that I would be used to being put through medical hell after all this time. I'm not. The machine beeps and Kay turns and looks at the monitor.

Christian's eyebrows furrow as he eyes her. "Why's it making that noise?" he asks, gruff and impatient.

Kay writes something on a clipboard that's mysteriously appeared. "Mrs. Grey's blood pressure is a little high. Nothing to be worried about, Mr. Grey. We're minutes away from the hospital."

Gray eyes look down at my face. "Anastasia? How do you feel?" Christian sounds his usual worried self, but his words are soft and he looks pained.

I fully relax and lick my chapped lips. I do my best to give him a reassuring smile as my eyelids fall, my body giving in to exhaustion. "Tired. I'm just tired," I mutter. "That's all, I just want to go to sleep."

The movement of the ambulance sways and I feel like I'm being gently rocked. Sighing, I blindly grope for my husband's hands. He grabs both of mine and kisses my fingers.

"Your head…" he starts.

Keeping my eyes shut, I mutter, "Just a headache, Christian. Not like the others."

He says nothing. Kneeling by my side, he lays his head on my stomach. He's warm and the weight is comforting. I feel his shoulders gently shake and I know that he's crying.

I use a sore hand to rub his hair, never opening my eyes. Christian reaches up and touches it. "Don't," I begin. "Everything is going to be fine. Remember? You told me that everything is going to be fine." My whisper is soft and sounds like it's far away.

I long for sleep, and feel my bones sliding into it. This time peacefully. Christian's warm fingers still hold my hand, his thumb lazily running along it, helping me let go without fear.