BOOK III - Chapter XXIV - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
            Only this and nothing more.

Edgar Allan Poe

PORTLAND

CHAPTER XXIV

As Taylor and I run back to my office, I mutter under my breath. “Shit! I have a meeting with the Taiwanese, too! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

We enter into my office and Andrea jumps to her feet with my Blackberry in her hand. Noting the anxiety on my face, she extends my phone to me wordlessly.  As I speed dial Anastasia’s phone, Ros walks in anxiously.

Upon seeing me on the phone, “Mr. Grey! Christian, the Taiwanese are already in the meeting room! Your presence is required,” she says and I hold a finger indicating I’d be a minute. She taps her high heeled Louboutins absently, showing her nervousness about this crucial meeting.

“Christian,” Anastasia gasps her answering greeting making me more anxious than ever.

“Christ, Ana. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ray…He’s been in an accident.” Damn! That’s the last thing we needed at this moment.

“Shit!”

“Yes. I’m on my way to Portland.” What? I hope she’s not going all by herself.

“Portland? Please tell me Sawyer is with you.”

“Yes, he’s driving.”

“Where is Ray?”

“At OHSU.”

Taylor, Andrea and Ros are waiting around me anxiously knowing something had happened to my wife.

“Christian, we are going to invest shitloads of money in the next few minutes for a shipyard in Taiwan! The businessmen are here! We are trying to save over $100 million Dollars from this deal; you can’t blow this meeting off we've carefully worked to arrange for over ten months!” Ros barks.

“Yes, Ros. I know!” I snap at her angrily. I don’t need her to remind me. I’ve invested hundreds of hours, countless meetings and thousands of jobs depend on it.

“Sorry, baby… I can be there in about three hours. I have business I need to finish here. I’ll fly down. I have a meeting with some guys over from Taiwan. I can’t blow them off. It’s a deal we’ve been hammering out for months.” Anastasia is silent on the other end of the phone as if she’s trying to digest the information.

“I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she whispers, pained. Her acquiescence is a stab at my heart. I want to be there for her. I’m her husband and she needs me. I’m failing her. Shit!

“Oh, baby,” I whisper into my Blackberry.

“I’ll be okay, Christian. Take your time. Don’t rush. I don’t want to worry about you, too. Fly safely.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Keep Luke close,” I order.

“Yes, I will.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” she says hanging up.

Taylor’s eyes meet mine. “Ana’s dad has been in a car accident.”

“Shit!” escapes Taylor’s lips.

“Exactly!”

“Let’s get over with this meeting…” I mutter. Ros turns to me immediately.

“Mr. Grey, I beg of you. Please, these guys are shrewd businessmen and you know it. GEH is going to dish out between $3-400 million Dollars for this shipyard in the next hour or so. You are our best negotiator. I’m very sorry about Mrs. Grey’s father, but not only thousands of jobs depend on this deal, but GEH depends on this deal. If you are shooting on all your pistons, you can save us nearly one hundred million Dollars,” she whispers fervently.

“I know that Ros! I’m here, let’s go make this deal!” I hiss menacingly. She doesn't need to teach me my business.

“Thank you,” she sighs her relief.

When we enter into the meeting room, the guests have been properly served. Warren, Sam and three of the high level finance department officers are already there in the meeting room. Taylor takes his place in the corner of the meeting room where he can have everyone in his eyesight. Our translator Andy Liu stands up with the rest of the group. Although the businessmen all speak English very well, I prefer to have my own translator just in case I need to be warned of a counter deal between them as well as preventing a cultural faux pas any of us may commit. 

"Welcome to the Grey House, ladies and gentlemen. I hope your trip to Seattle has been a pleasant one. It's nice to see all of you face to face. For those of you who have not met me, I'm Christian Grey, and this is my associate Ros Bailey," I say smiling and extend my hand as I make my circuit around the table.   

"Mr. Grey," slightly bows the grey haired wiry man in glasses. "I'm Lee Chou. I own the shipyards in Taipei and Keelung. This is Lung Shyn," he points a younger man in his thirties. "Jian Hsieh is my Chief Financial Officer," he points a remarkably tall man with a very young face, but I suspect he too is in his thirties. "Una Zhang is the port manager," he point to the only female in the group. She looks at me, blinks and shyly lowers her gaze as she extends her hand.   

"And my name is Charlie Koahsiung. I'm the business adviser," says the well-toned man who possibly practices martial arts by the looks of his well-toned body and his graceful movements. He looks like he's in his forties. He's also the only one who speaks English with an American accent.  

On my way to my seat, I turn the first man I'm introduced, and say "Mr. Shyn, I didn't hear your position in Mr. Chou's company," I say both showing them I can remember their names and what information they provided and withheld. The information is unnecessary of course, because I've already done the background checks on each person in the meeting. He's the shipyard manager in Taipei and the man with most connections in the entire country of Taiwan as far as shipbuilding is concerned. He's a big asset.  

"Apologies Mr. Grey. I am the shipyard manager in Taipei," he says slightly bowing. 

"That means Miss Zhang is the port manager in Keelung. Please, be seated," I say nodding, and show them their seats.  

Mr. Chou looks at me expectantly.  

"Mr. Chou, my associates, and our engineers have looked over the plans of your shipyards and examined the qualifications of the existing workforce. After considering the size of your quays, cranage, the graving dry dock, slipway, we are ready to make our offer. I'm aware that you already have your price set. But considering the outlook of the current global economy, and closing ports and shipyards around the world, workforce laid off, you would appreciate my company's position in requesting a negotiation of your set price tag," I start. I know that he's ready to lay off 500 employees, and the shipyard will require nearly $100 million Dollars in investments to get it up to par of the requirements of my company's standards.  

"Mr. Grey, we have one of the largest quays in Taiwan at 1600 meters. Both our shipyards have one 150 tons, three 60 tons, one 10 tons, one 40 tons and two 20 tons of cranage. Both the shipyards are equipped to do new builds and repairs. Our price tag is quite fair, I assure you," says Jian Hsieh. 

"Mr. Hsieh, I have a copy of the specs and have known the existing equipment of both your shipyards since the beginning of our negotiations. However, we want to use the shipyard to do the fitting out and to build the hulls. Acquiring more than what we need is a waste of resources as you would appreciate. I only want what my company needs; the shipyard with the most fitting for our requirements." 

"We know that GEH is in need of a large workforce with capabilities of fitting a ship and building the hulls. I assure you Mr. Grey, what we are offering is not excessive, but necessary,” says Koahsiung.

“It is true that we might be able to utilize the exiting equipment in the shipyard, however,” adds my sidekick Ros, “What you are offering is still not a perfect fit Mr. Koahsiung. We need a well-qualified workforce of 16,000, and you hardly have that. Training them for what we need will take time and we have orders to meet.”

“Yes, but it will save you a lot of money from your $343 Million dollar civilian payroll. We estimate that the cost of your payroll will drop to $216 million dollars,” says Miss Zhang.

Ros smiles knowingly, and sits back in her seat confidently, her arms crossed.

“Miss Zhang, your numbers are misleading. You are talking about the payroll of 16,000 well-trained, well qualified American employees, who meet and exceed our rigorous standards. Considering they live in an area with higher cost of living, it is expected of us to pay $343 million dollars in payroll. We employ over 40,000 people around the world. I know the cost of our payroll down to the fraction of a penny. However, what you are offering us is 8768 civilian employees whose qualifications are yet to be compared to what we require, and the payroll amount you suggest is $216 million Dollars which is far beyond what I want to pay for half the number of employees whose productivity is yet to be determined,” Ros replies arching her eyebrows.

“Miss Bailey,” says the elder Chou. Looking at Miss Zhang reprimanding, he adds, “Miss Zhang spoke out of turn. Forgive her youth and enthusiasm. We’ve calculated the payroll amount taking into the effect the employees you would deploy to the shipyard. Clearly, the cost of our payroll is much less for Taiwanese employees who are also well qualified in their craft…” he continues.

My mind drifts back to Anastasia. Have they reached OSHU yet? I hope she’s not instructing Sawyer to speed up. Knowing Anastasia, that’s just what she would do. I hope Ray isn't badly injured. I don’t know how Anastasia would take that. It would completely devastate her. All of a sudden, I worry about my wife in the worse way. I want to text her at least, but I have to remain focused in the meeting. Thousands of jobs and millions of dollars are at stake. I feel Ros slightly kick me with her high heeled Louboutins under the table to get my attention.

Chou and rest of his group are looking at me expectantly.

“Warren is our CFO. He can answer that question better,” Ros replies.

“I certainly can,” Warren says confidently. "Given the current economy, and status of the shipping industry as a whole, we would like to offer you $200 million Dollars for the shipyard in Taipei. That way, you don’t have to lay-off the 500 employees you’ve scheduled to let go in the next month. Given the circumstances, you will be forced to let go another 15% of your employees within the next year. That’s about 1240 employees. The productivity and quality will absolutely diminish, or you will be forced to eliminate some of your operations. The outlook is not positive at all…” he says looking at each of them grimly. Faces are taut. Mr. Chou shifts in his seat uncomfortably having something said out loud that he knew all along.

“Mr. Chou,” I say looking at dignified owner of the shipyard sitting halfway up off my chair. “I want to be fair to you and your business you’ve worked very hard to establish. There are few things I respect; one of which is hard work. You and your group seem to have done their homework well, as did we. Let’s all cut the bullshit here,” I say in a serious tone not only because I want to leave, but I want this man to get a fair deal while my company saves money. I see my translator Andy Liu stiffen in his seat as if he swallowed something unpleasant. 

“We guarantee our workmanship…” starts Charlie Koahsiung confidently, but I cut him off.

“Charlie, you are in no position to guarantee the workmanship of anyone let alone Mr. Chou’s employees. You’re a business consultant who was hired for this deal, and this deal alone. Anyone can take a bag of shit and slap a warranty or guarantee on it. That guarantee is only as good as the man who is providing it. Since you are here on an hourly base providing business advice, your guarantee is moot, and not even worth the bag of shit I have just mentioned…” I say focusing the intensity of my gaze on him, pinning him to his seat. He’s immediately silenced. I sit back in my seat, and focus on the owner.

“Mr. Chou, my group and your group can advise us up and down all year long. But in the end, I’m the decision maker in my group, and you’re the decision maker in yours. My final offer is $245 million Dollars, and I will keep the 500 employees you are planning to lay off. That way you will look better in the eyes of your employees as an honorable employer who sold his business to keep everyone employed rather than gradually lay off everyone and run the business to the ground. With the profit you make, you can improve, and keep your other shipyard operations going. I see two benefits in that: One) You and I can do business in long term by establishing trust in each other today. Two) Your employees and mine will remain employed in these tough times, and the remaining $100 million will give me some leverage to establish a payroll base and bring the shipyard up to American codes and my company’s requirements. What say you to my proposal?” I say directing my sincere request to the owner only.

Hsieh starts speaking in Mandarin to Chou in rapid fire. My translator is nearby to capture it all and he is repeating it to my ear through a radio piece.

He’s telling him that if we negotiate further they can possibly squeeze out another $100 million because GEH needs this shipyard desperately.

“bi zui! (闭嘴)” says Chou firmly, his eyes ablaze and the intensity of his anger is director towards his CFO. He looks chagrined. He bows his head to Chou.

“Mr. Grey, your sincere talks impressed me in a way I had not expected from a young businessman such as yourself,” he says in a very clear, but accented English.

“I accept your offer granted that you give me your word in writing that you will not fire the existing employees, but keep them trained in your requirements. The money you shall be saving should be sufficient enough to provide that. Your payroll as we have indicated will save you well over $100 million Dollars, and that should provide you the saving you are looking for. I promise that you will have the productivity that will match and exceed your requirements. And how do they say it in English…” he says racking his brain. “Ah, yes. And that is no bull!” he adds smiling, finally finding the correct English expression he wanted to convey making everyone laugh.

After the papers are signed, and the Taiwanese business associates are sent on their way, my grim face returns as Taylor rushes me to Boeing Field-King County Airport where Charlie Tango is getting prepped for flight.

“Mr. Grey? Am I correct to assume that New York trip is cancelled?”

“Yes,” I say absently. “Yes, it appears so. Have you talked to Sawyer?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Steel was in the operating room going through a surgery. It’s safe to assume that his condition is serious. I’ve also taken liberty and had Andrea reserve you and Mrs. Grey a suit at Heathman Hotel, sir.”

I let out an exasperated breath after hearing Ray’s condition. I’m worried about Anastasia. How’s she handling it? She’s been all by herself, and Sawyer is there, but that’s little comfort to ease her stress. I should be there, holding her, caring for her, providing whatever support I can.

“Jose Rodriguez and his father are also there at the hospital with Mrs. Grey,” says Taylor dropping the bomb.

“What the hell? Why are they there? Did Ana call them to provide her support?”

“No. They were already at the hospital when Mrs. Grey and Sawyer arrived. Apparently, they too were involved in the accident. Mr. Rodriguez Sr. has also sustained injuries though not as bad as Mr. Steele.” I nod, barely containing myself. Jose Jr. has been comforting my wife while I was working on a business deal; an essential business deal, but a business deal, nonetheless. I hate the idea of Jose's hands on Anastasia.  

“Does Sawyer know what happened?”

“He doesn’t know a lot, because he called me when he went to get a cup of tea for Mrs. Grey. But he said that Mr. Rodriguez Sr. sustained a broken wrist and an ankle. And because they were hit on the passenger side of the vehicle by a drunk driver, Mr. Steele sustained most of the injuries since he was sitting in the passenger seat.”

“How is Ana?”

“Distraught,” he says simply.

“Shit!”

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

Flight to Portland feels so long even though I enjoyed having Charlie Tango back in commission. I would have loved it more had it not been under stressful conditions. After landing and securing Charlie Tango, Taylor leads me to the waiting SUV and he doesn’t have to be told twice to make it fast to OHSU.

“Depending on Ana’s father’s condition, it may be necessary for us to stay in Portland for a while. I know you reserved a suite at Heathman, but I need you to make necessary preparations made to accommodate us for at least the duration of this weekend. I will further instruct you once I get a clearer picture of Mr. Steele’s health. I've sent you an e-mail on the drive to the airport with the instructions of what I need you to do for me.”

“As you wish sir,” Taylor replies as he carefully makes his turn into the emergency entrance of the hospital.

“Drop me off in the front, then find Sawyer and inform him of my instructions.”

“Yes, sir.”

I walk through the hospital’s emergency entrance, and locate the admitting nurse who is busy with a patient on the floor. I look at my watch; it’s about 2:13 p.m. With a further glance, I find the reception desk.

“Miss,” I say getting the other nurse's attention.

“Yes,” she says firmly, then her tone changes to a soft, overly friendly one. “Y…yes. How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for a patient named Raymond Steele.”

“You’re the third person to ask for him. He’s in the OR on the third floor. Check with the nurse’s station when you get to it, please. Elevators are right around the corner. Turn right through the double doors,” she says fluttering her eyelashes.

“Thank you.”

The elevator already has other occupants when I enter. I nod at the other passengers as I hit the 3^rd floor button. It slowly makes its way up, and I swear it feels like it stops at every half floor. When the third floor number lights up and the elevator doors slowly slide open, I exit quickly and locate the nurse’s station.

“Can I help… I mean, how may I help you—sir?” asks an inquisitive nurse.

“Yes, I’m looking for Ray Steele and the family members who are waiting for him.”

“Oh.. Mr. Steele is still in surgery in OR-4. He’s been here for the last five hours. A doctor should be coming out and informing the next of kin on his condition shortly.  If you go through that door over there, you’ll be entering into the waiting room. As you can see it’s marked as the WAITING ROOM on top. His daughter went in there earlier.”

“Thank you for your help,” I say politely.

“Of course… It’s my pleasure.”

I make my way towards the waiting room with sure steps hoping to find my wife there. I quickly open the door, and my gaze sweeps the room to find Ana sagging in a plastic chair, her hand in Jose’s hand, and she seems to be wearing his jacket. Now isn’t the time to voice my disagreement with what I see. Everyone looks up and Anastasia jumps up with relief. 

“Christian!” she gasps my name, as if uttering her thanks to God. I quickly make my way, and she closes the distance quickly jumping into my arms. I wrap her in my embrace tightly and my nose is in her hair, inhaling her scent. Her tense body relaxes, and calms immediately soon after I hold her. Knowing that I have this effect on my wife pleases me to no end.

“Any news?” I ask. She shakes her head in response; for once she’s lost for words, unable to speak.

“Jose,” I nod him my greeting.

“Christian, this is my father, Jose Senior.”

“Mr. Rodriguez… we met at the wedding. I take it you were in the accident, too?”

“Yes, we were,” replies Jose. “Ana’s father, my dad and I were on a fishing trip to Astoria, and some fucking drunk driver was three sheets to the wind at seven a.m. in the morning! I’ve no injuries other than a couple of bruised ribs and a knock on the head. But my dad broke his wrist and ankle. But the real damage was to the passenger side, and…” he says swallowing looks at Anastasia, “well, Ray was sitting in the passenger side. The medics came and took him to the community hospital in Astoria, and ended up airlifting Ray here. He’s been in the OR for some time, but no one came out to give us any news yet.”

“Are you both well enough to be here?” I ask.

“We don’t want to be anywhere else,” Jose Senior replies with a quiet, pained voice. I nod. He’s clearly very worried about his friend. I take Anastasia’s hand and sit her down and sit next to her.

“Have you eaten?” I ask Anastasia.

She shakes her head in the negative.

“But you’re cold?” I ask eyeing Jose’s jacket.

She nods in the affirmative. I shift in my chair uncomfortably, not liking the idea of another man’s jacket covering her body, but under the circumstances, I say nothing.

The door opens, and a young doctor in bright blue scrubs enters. He must have been one of the doctors performing the surgery, because he looks bone-weary and distressed. Anastasia jumps to her feet, her face ashen.

“Ray Steele,” she whispers her father’s name, her voice pleading for some good news. I stand beside my wife, and put my arm around her waist.

“You’re his next of kin?” asks the doctor as if he’s looking for introductions. His gaze assesses my wife with his bright blue eyes, almost the color of his scrubs. He’s a tall, good looking man, who just performed a surgery but now all dapper looking after catching a glimpse of my wife.

“I’m his daughter, Ana.”

“Miss Steele—“ he starts. In your dreams fucker, I'm not her brother. She’s mine; my wife!

“Mrs. Grey,” I correct him. Anastasia stiffens in my arms, her eyes briefly shoot daggers at me. There’s nothing wrong with declaring my territory. It's a knee-jerk reaction.

“My apologies,” the doctor stammers. Of course he stammers, because he was eyeing a distraught next to kin who is standing in her husband’s arms. “I’m Doctor Crowe. Your father is stable, but in critical condition,” he explains. I immediately feel all the strength drain from Anastasia’s limbs, and she sags in my arms. I firmly hold her up to prevent her from falling to the floor.

“He suffered severe internal injuries principally to his diaphragm, but we’ve managed to repair them, and we were able to save his spleen. Unfortunately, he suffered a cardiac arrest during the operation because of blood loss. We managed to get his heart going again, but this remains a concern. However, our gravest concern is that he suffered severe contusions to the head, and the MRI shows that he has swelling in his brain. We’ve induced a coma to keep him quiet and still while we monitor the brain swelling.

Anastasia is completely beside herself. Is Ray going to have brain damage? She’s unable to voice her fears again.

“It’s standard procedure in these cases. For now, we just have to wait and see.”

“And what’s the prognosis?” I ask coolly.

“Mr. Grey, it’s difficult to say at the moment. It’s possible he could make a complete recovery, but that’s in God’s hands now.”

“How long will you keep him in a coma?”

“That depends on how his brain responds. Usually seventy-two to ninety six hours.”

Anastasia remains silent until this moment, listening the exchange between the doctor and I finally able to whisper her request.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, you should be able to see him in about half an hour. He’s been taken to the ICU on the sixth floor.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” we say both at the same time, and he nods and turns to leave us.

“Well, he’s alive,” Anastasia whispers. But this time, my strong wife silently starts crying with the weight of her distress.

“Sit down,” I order her softly.

“Papa, I think we should go. You need to rest. We won’t know anything for a while,” Jose murmurs to his father who can only manage to gaze at him with a blank expression. “We can come back this evening, after you’ve rested. That’s okay, isn’t it, Ana?” he turns to my wife and asks her in a beseeching tone.

“Of course,” Anastasia replies.

“Are you staying in Portland?” I ask. Jose Rodriguez nods.

“Do you need a ride home?”

He frowns before answering. “I was going to call a cab.”

“Luke can take you,” I say and Sawyer stands up. Jose looks confused for a minute as if he’s just met him.

“Luke Sawyer,” Anastasia clarifies.

“Oh…. Sure. Yeah, we’d appreciate it. Thanks, Christian.”

Anastasia stands up and hugs Jose Senior and Jose Junior in quick succession.

“Stay strong, Ana,” Jose whispers into my wife’s ear. “He’s a fit and healthy man. The odds are in his favor.”

“I hope so,” she replies distraught, and hugs Jose hard. Then she releases him, and shrugging his jacket off, she hands it back to him.

“Keep it, if you’re still cold.”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks,” she replies glancing at me nervously. I look back at her impassively, and then take her hand. I have a jacket; she can take mine.

“If there’s any change, I’ll let you know right away,” she says. Then Jose pushes his father’s wheelchair toward the door Sawyer is holding open.

Mr. Rodriguez holds his hand up in a farewell gesture and addresses Anastasia, his voice cracking: “He’ll be in my prayers, Ana. It’s been so good to reconnect with him after all these years. He’s become a good friend.”

“I know.”

Then they leave. It’s just the two of us in the waiting room. I caress Anastasia’ cheek.

“You are pale. Come here.” I sit down, and pull my wife into my lap, and fold her into my arms again. She curls up against me, and snuggles up. I slowly and gently stroke her hair, and hold her hand.

“How was Charlie Tango?” she asks absently.

I grin. “Oh, she was yar,” I reply, secretly proud of her new and improved handling. She smiles, then glances up at me, confused.

“Yar?” she asks.

“It’s a line from the Philadelphia Story. Grace’s favorite film.”

My she was yar – the Philadelphia Story

“I don’t know it.”

“I think I have it on Blu-Ray at home. We can watch it and make out.” I lean down and kiss her hair and smile at her once more. She is silent but smiles back at me.

“Can I persuade you to eat something?” I ask. It’s hard for me watch her completely distraught, cold and hungry.

Her smile vanishes. “Not now. I want to see Ray first.”

I’m rudderless. My shoulders slump, but I don’t want to push her in light of her stress.

“How were the Taiwanese?”

“Amenable,” I reply shortly since Mr. Chou agreed to my terms when I consented his requirements.

“Amenable how?”

“They let me buy their shipyard for less than the price I was willing to pay.”

“That’s good?” she asks.

“Yes. That’s good.”

“But I thought you had a shipyard, over here.”

“I do. We’re going to use that to do the fitting-out. Build the hulls in the Far East. It’s cheaper.”

“What about the workforce at the shipyard here?” she asks concerned about my existing employees. I’m doing this so I don’t have to lay anyone off, cutting the cost and expenses down. Cheaper materials, cheaper labor, and we’ll do more complicated work in the shipyard here.

“We’ll redeploy. We should be able to keep redundancies to a minimum,” I say reassuring her and kiss her hair.

“Shall we check on Ray?” I ask in a soft voice, she silently nods.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

There are four patients in the ICU unit each one housed in their own separate high tech area. Anastasia and I walk to the far end to locate Ray. When we are finally allowed to see Ray in the ICU, Anastasia’s eyes fearfully take in the sterile, austere, dynamic ward with heart monitor, ICP monitor, ventilator, foley catheter drainage bag, cloth restrains, IV fluids, chest tube drainage and other equipment to constantly monitor his bodily functions, each one working in its own set rhythm, almost giving a testament of keeping Ray alive with their steady beeps showing his heart rate, and the monitor displaying the dips and peaks telling us that he’s alive and with us even if he’s in an induced coma. Anastasia is immediately overwhelmed with all the medical equipment and machinery keeping her father alive possibly knowing that without them, he wouldn’t be with us.

She scans and takes in her father lying in the bed silently, holding onto his life, looking so small in this large bed. Her eyes widen, her mouth drops open and she’s in shock. The endotracheal tube in his mouth is there to help him breathe, and various fluids in tubes are drip fed into his body through a needle in each arm via an IV line and an A-line and other lines I couldn’t identify. There’s a pulse oximeter on his finger monitoring the saturation of his hemoglobin, inadvertently his oxygen level in his blood.

Anastasia’s eyes widen even more when she notices the large pristine bandage that disappears beneath the sheet covering his body. A whimper escapes her lips as it all sinks in: he’s on a ventilator, helping him to breathe, to remain alive while he fights for his life. Ray is out, but he doesn’t look in pain; he looks peaceful as if he’s fast asleep.

We finally notice a petite young blonde nurse checking his monitors indicating his vital signs.

“Can I touch him?” Anastasia asks the nurse, hesitatingly reaching for his hand, but not touching him; seeking the nurse’s permission.

“Yes,” the nurse replies smiling kindly. Young, bottle blonde nurse is in her twenties and her name tag reads, KELLIE RN. She looks at my wife with compassionate brown eyes.

My eyes are now fixed on my wife. Her distress, worry, anguish is a renewed stab in my heart. I’ve never seen her like this. I stand at the end of the bed, and Ana carefully holds Ray’s hand. The moment she touches his unresponsive hand, she breaks down; falling into a chair by the bed, places her head gently on her father’s arm, and starts sobbing.

“Oh, Daddy. Please get better. Please,” she whispers her pleas. I close the short distance between us and reach my wife. I want to hold her, comfort her, but she needs the connection with her father. I place my hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze indicating her that I’m here for her.

“All Mr. Steel’s vitals are good,” the nurse reassures her quietly.

“Thank you,” I automatically murmur my reply. The nurse looks up at me and gapes after getting a good look at me.

“Can he hear me?” Anastasia asks.

“He’s in deep sleep. But who knows?”

“Can I sit for a while?”

“Sure thing,” Nurse Kellie replies blushing.

I lean down to Ana, ignoring everything and everyone else in the room, “I need to make a phone call. I’ll be outside. I’ll give you some alone time with your dad,” I say. She nods. I kiss my wife’s hair and walk out of the room.

My anger is growing in leaps and bounds to the fucker who put Ray into coma like this. He needs to be arrested, and not see the daylight again.

I take my Blackberry out, and dial.

“Hello?” answers my mom. I take a deep breath in.

“Hi mom,” I answer with distress in my voice.

“Christian, what’s wrong darling? Is Ana alright?”

“Yes, Anastasia is fine, but her father had been in an accident. He got hit by a drunk driver. He’s in the ICU in OHSU, here in Portland.”

“Portland? You’re in Portland?”

“Yes, he was airlifted here.”

“Oh, darling! I’m so sorry!”

“I’m calling you to see if you know any doctors who specialize in internal injuries. His surgeon talked about possible swelling in his brain. I want the best doctor for his care, mom. My wife is completely distraught.”

“I’ll call some of my colleagues and see what I can do in terms of getting him the best doctors for his treatment. In fact…wait, I have a friend at OHSU who might be perfect. I’ve trained with her, and I know her skills to be superior.”

“If she’s as good as you’re saying, I need her to be assigned to Ray’s case. The sooner, the better.”

“I’ll get in touch with her as soon as I hang up with you. I’ll come and talk to his doctors, and look over his charts this evening, darling.”

“I’ll text Andrea to have flights reserved.”

“You don’t need to do that Christian. Ana is like my own daughter. I want to come. I’ll be along. Let me call my friend, then I'll let your dad know and take off.”

“Thank you, mom! I would really appreciate it. Oh, mom!” I say with anguish.

“What is it darling?”

“I’ve never seen Ana like this…so broken, so hurt, I don’t know what to do.”

“Just be there for her, honey. I’ve been in hospital rooms for most of my life. She needs your love and support, even if you just hold her, that would be a big help. She just needs to know that if she falls, you’re there to hold her up.”

“Thank you, mom. I’ll call dad know to look into the police reports regarding the accident.”

My father who is adamantly opposed to drunk driving as I am, is furious. He promises to check the police records tomorrow.

Then I call Taylor.

“Where are you?”

“At the airport. I will fly back with Stephan to Seattle in the next twenty minutes.”

“Did you have time to do what I asked?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve purchased your required items, and they’re already delivered to your suite. You can pick your keys up at the desk. I’ve arranged Mrs. Grey’s present to be delivered to one of the dealers in Portland so we can pick it up there. I’m also arranging the rest of the items on your list, sir. Stephan and Beighley are on standby waiting for your order to fly to Georgia once you give them a go ahead. Andrea is making the business arrangements to be taken care of in your absence. Gail has packed the items you’ve requested to save time. I’ve got about two other items left on the list. I can drive back later in the night if you like.”

“No. Stay in Seattle tonight. Sawyer’s here. I’ll have a better idea of my plans tomorrow anyway. I’ll let you know before you leave Seattle.”

“Will do, sir.”

I hang up make my way to the nurse’s station. The three nurses busy with various tasks at the station all look up as I approach, and each one has the same captivated expression on her face.

“Can I help you Mr.?? Sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier. Your patient is Mr. Steele, right?” asks Nurse Kellie.

“Yes,” I reply.

“I’m going to take my wife to get a bite to eat, and get some rest. She’s had a trying day. I’m going to leave you with our cell phone numbers. Should there be any change at all in his condition, please have any of the nurse in charge call us.”

I write down our cell phone numbers on my business card, and hand it to the nurse. She looks down to see the name, and when she sees “Christian Grey” in the front, her eyes widen.

“Yes, of course Mr. Grey,” she replies dazed. The other two nurses watch her with their mouths agape. Then I walk back to Ray’s ICU unit and slowly open the door. Anastasia is quietly talking to her father. I stand by the door first to not to disturb her.

“…and we’re remodeling a big house overlooking the Sound. Oh, dad, if you’ve seen the view… It’s a piece of heaven. We’ll have lots of gatherings there so you can visit us as often as you want. I know you would think it’s a waste of money to have perfectly fine house to remodel, but we want to make it more ecologically sustainable, more environmentally friendly. It’ll have a glass wall to get as much of the ocean view as possible. We’re also building a large covered patio. It’ll be gorgeous.  

And did you know that Christian has a house in Aspen? I didn’t know it until recently, but we were there for the weekend, and we had a wonderful time. My husband is just a wonderful man. He surprised me by inviting Kate and Elliott, and Ethan and Mia to come along with us. And...” she says choking over her words. I move closer, but I still don’t want to disturb her by breaking her connection with her father. I sit on the corner of the bed.

“…and you can go there with Christian to fish, and you are welcome to take Mr. Rodriguez and Jose with you too,” she whispers. But Ray doesn’t respond, or give any indication that he hears her. “I’m told the fishing is great…” she whimpers her words softly.

The ventilator sucks and expels air in and out of Ray. His heart monitor steadily beeps as if to enunciate his heartbeats to reassure her. A comforting sound… Sensing my presence in the room, she looks up.

“Hi,” I say softly. My eyes are fixed on my wife, full of compassion and concern.

“Hi,” she whispers her answering greeting.

“So, I’m going fishing with your dad, Mr. Rodriguez, and Jose?” I ask.

She nods in the affirmative.

“Okay. Let’s go eat. Let him sleep.”

She frowns in disagreement.

“Ana, he’s in a coma. I’ve given our cell numbers to the nurses here. If there’s any change, they’ll call us. We’ll eat, check into a hotel, rest up, then come back this evening.”

She looks up at me wearily and nods. I give her a tentative smile, and hold my hand out to her.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

The hotel suite has already been reserved for us, but we still need to check in. Anastasia just stands next to me limp, tired, and nearly lifeless. I’m immensely concerned about her. When I finally open the suite door, she looks around with recognition. It’s the same suite I took her when she got drunk. It has a lot of fond memories for me. She stands in the doorway, completely paralyzed, immobile. But her face carries remembrance, and fondness.

“Home away from home,” I murmur in a soft voice. I take her hand and pull her in, then take her briefcase from her hand, and place it down on a side table beside one of the overstuffed couches.

I’m in a situation where I can’t make things right for her. I want to make it right; I want to be able to heal her dad. Give her the ease of mind, but I don’t know what to do. I’m out of my element.

“Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?” I ask gazing at her. I want to do something to ease her tension, give her comfort.

“A bath. I’d like a bath,” she murmurs after a long minute.

“Bath. Good. Yes,” I reply and stride to the bedroom while loosening my tie, and take it off. Then I discard my jacket along with the tie onto a chair and finally roll up my sleeves on the way to the bathroom. As soon as I enter the bathroom, I make a beeline to the tub, turn the hot water on and start filling the bathtub after putting in some bath oil, bath soap and salt in it. When I reenter back into the bedroom, Anastasia is staring at the Nordstrom bags on the bed.

“I sent Taylor to get some things. Nightwear. You know,” I say, eyeing my wife watchfully. She’s a million miles away from her usual cheerful, smart mouth self. She’s lost, distressed, and I don’t know how to fix this for her.

“Oh, Ana,” I murmur. “I’ve not seen you like this. You’re normally so brave and strong.”

She looks at me with desolate eyes, not knowing what to say; just gazes at me with her blue eyes wide. She is in shock. She wraps her arms around her torso almost to keep herself from falling apart, and to keep the permeating cold away. I can’t stand it. I pull my wife into my arms, holding her tightly.

“Baby, he’s alive. His vital signs are good. We just have to be patient,” I murmur. “Come,” I say taking her hand, I lead her into the bathroom. I gently take her jacket off, and put it on the bathroom chair. Then I turn back to her and undo the buttons of her shirt and slide it off her shoulders. I pull her close to me, and snake my arms around her body and unzip her skirt. It pools around her feet. I walk her out of it, and divest her of her shoes, bra, panties and stockings. Ordinarily, this would have aroused me, and I am aroused, but I want to comfort my wife; not be demanding of her.

I take my clothes off, and put them on top of hers. Holding Anastasia’s hand, I walk her to the bathtub. I enter into it first, and take her into the tub filled with hot water laced with lotus blossom scent. I sit down in the warm water and pull her into my arms, her back to my front. She’s silent. Focusing on popping the bubbles in front of her. I kiss her hair intermittently to reassure her that I’m here, ready to care for her, tend her needs. I  pull her further into my arms, and keep my arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“You didn’t get into the bath with Leila, did you? That time you bathed her?” she asks.

Her question makes me stiffen. I’d never do that. My automatic response is a snort and tightening of my arms around her shoulders. “Uhm… no,” I reply both appalled and wounded that she might think so little of me to do that.

“I thought so. Good.”

I tug on her hair tied in a crude bun, and tilt her head around so I can see her face and her expression. “Why do you ask?” I question her with an inquisitive gaze.

She shrugs. “Morbid curiosity. I don’t know…seeing her this week.”

My face hardens. She has nothing to worry about Leila or any other sub, slave, or any woman that ever crossed paths with me. “I see. Less of the morbid,” I say in a censorious tone.

“How long are you going to support her?”

“Until she’s on her feet. I don’t know,” I say truthfully, shrugging. “Why?” Does she disapprove?

“Are there others?”

“Others?”

“Exes who you support.” Her tone is flat, but I know my wife. She’s accumulating information which might come back and bite me in the ass. But I’m determined to be truthful.

“There was one, yes. No longer though.”

“Oh?” she probes.

“She was studying to be a doctor. She’s qualified and now she has someone else.”

“Another dominant?”

“Yes.”

“Leila says you have two of her paintings,” she whispers, and I know this tone even in a whisper. She’s hurt.

“I used to. I didn’t really care for them. They had technical merit, but they were too colorful for me. I think Elliot has them. As we know, he has no taste.”

She giggles for the first time since I’ve seen her in the hospital waiting room. It touches my heart so unexpectedly, I wrap my other arm around her, sloshing water over the bathtub.

“That’s better,” I whisper and kiss her temple.

“He’s marrying my best friend,” she warns me.

“Then I’d better shut my mouth,” I say.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

I don’t know how long we stay in the bathtub, but when we get out, our hands are pruned. I wrap my wife in the soft, plush Heathman robe, and wrap her hair into a turban with a towel. I eye her as she goes through the contents of the bags Taylor purchased. He’s bought enough clothes for the weekend. While she’s going through the clothes, I order room service. I can’t stand the idea that she’s going hungry all day. After putting in my order, I turn to my wife.

“Apart from harassing me at Clayton’s, have you ever actually gone into a store and just bought stuff?”

“Harassing you?” I ask with mock hurt.

“Yes. Harassing me.”

“You were flustered, if I recall. And that young boy was all over you. What was his name?”

“Paul.”

“One of your many admirers.”

She rolls her eyes, and I am happy to see a glimmer of my wife normal self, eye roll or otherwise. I smile with relief with a genuine smile, and kiss her.

“There’s my girl,” I whisper. “Get dressed. I don’t want you getting a cold again.”

She dresses in a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt and the pale blue hooded sweatshirt Taylor purchased for her. I put on my black jeans and a gray cable-knit sweater. In her outfit, she looks at least five years younger.

I take her hand and walk her to the living room. Room service is at the door in no time. They bring the cart into the dining room, and place the plates on the table. I tip them and send them off. Anastasia just looks at the food blankly, and picks at the contents of her plate. She barely takes three bites out of her fish, salad and steamed vegetables. I don’t want to push her today, but it concerns me that she stops eating under stress. I stroll around the table and walk up to her. No use in pushing her today. 

“You look so young,” I murmur softly. She glances up to see my eye glowing with warm love for her. “And to think you’ll be a whole year older tomorrow,” I say in a wistful voice. Her reply is a forlorn smile.

“I don’t feel much like celebrating. Can we go see Ray now?”

“Sure. I wish you’d eat something. You barely touched your food.”

“Christian, please. I’m just not hungry. Maybe after we’ve seen Ray. I want to wish him goodnight.” I acquiesce and picking up my keys and wallet, I lead her out of the suite. When we arrive at the ICU, we find Jose leaving Ray’s side. But he’s there without his father.

“Ana, Christian, hi,” he greets us.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He was too tired to come back. He was in a car accident this morning,” he says grinning apologetically. “And his painkillers kicked in. He was out for the count. I had to fight to get in to see Ray since I’m not next of kin.”

“Any change?” Anastasia asks, suddenly anxious.

“He’s good, Ana. Same…but all good.”

She sags in relief.

“See you tomorrow, birthday girl?”

“Sure. We’ll be here.”

Jose glances at me apprehensively, struggling with something, then pulls Anastasia into a brief hug. “Hasta mañana.” He’s still madly in love with my wife.

“Goodnight, Jose.”

“Goodbye, Jose,” I say. Jose nods; the amorous, yearning expression on his face doesn’t escape my notice and his shoulders slumped, he walks down the hospital corridor exiting through the double doors to the elevators.

“He’s still nuts about you,” I say quietly.

“No he’s not. Even if he is…” she says shrugging, without any thought or care about how he might feel about her.

I manage to give her a tight smile. Her face softens, and her expression changes.

“Well done,” she murmurs.

What? Why? I frown.

“For not frothing at the mouth.”

My wife manages to say the most unexpected things; and I’m amazed and hurt that she can be thinking about me in such terms considering the circumstances. I gape at her, a little wounded, and a little amused. “I’ve never frothed. Let’s see your dad. I have a surprise for you.”

“Surprise?” she asks with wide eyes, alarmed.

“Come,” I command taking her hand, and we push the double doors of the ICU.

Standing at the end of the Ana’s dad’s bed is my mother, in deep discussion with doctor Crowe and a female doctor. When they see us enter, my mom grins.

“Christian,” she comes forward and kisses my cheek, and then turning to my wife, she folds her in her arms, hugging her warmly.

“Ana. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. It’s my father I’m worried about,” she replies.

“He’s in good hands. Doctor Sluder is an expert in her field. We trained at Yale.”

Dr. Sluder is a short haired woman with elfish features and a shy smile.

“Mrs. Grey,” she greets Anastasia very formally. “As the lead physician for your father, I’m pleased to tell you that all is on track. His vital signals are stable and strong. We have every faith that he’ll make a complete recovery. The brain swelling has stopped, and shows signs of decreasing. This is very encouraging after such a short time,” she states in her gently southern accent.

“That’s good news,” Anastasia murmurs, relieved.

The doctor’s smile is warm and reassuring. “It is, Mrs. Grey. We’re taking real good care of him.”

“Great to see you again, Grace,” she nods at my mother.

My mother smiles at her friend, “Likewise, Lorraina.”

“Dr. Crowe, let’s leave these good people to visit with Mr. Steele,” she orders the young surgeon. Crowe follows in Dr. Sluder’s wake.

Since we stepped into the hospital, there’s hope in Anastasia’s eyes for the first time. My mother takes Anastasia’s hand and squeezes gently. “Ana, sweetheart, sit with him. Talk to him. It’s all good. I’ll visit with Christian in the waiting room.”

She nods. I smile at her reassuringly, and leave the ICU with my mom.

“Mom? What do you really think?” I ask, my face grim again.

“It’s just as Dr. Sluder explained Ana inside. The prognosis is positive.” I exhale my breath in relief.

“I’m so glad you came, mom,” I utter absently. My mom’s smile is joyful.

“You and Ana needed me, Christian. Where else would I be?”

“Thank you. Well, this brings another request…” I say and exhale a breath. “It’s Ana’s 22^nd birthday tomorrow, and spending the day waiting in the ICU wasn’t what I planned for her.”

“Well, darling, life is full of incidents that are out of our control. We improvise.”

“Yes. I want to throw her a party here, at the Heathman. I’d like you and dad, Kate and Elliot, Mia and Ethan, and Jose and his dad to be present. I need to call Ana’s mother to have them fly over for the surprise.”

My mother beams incandescently.

“It’s a wonderful idea, son!” she gushes. “I can’t thank Ana enough for giving me my son,” she says in a barely audible voice, but I hear it nonetheless.

“I will call Elliot and Mia, and you arrange Ana’s mom’s trip,” she says as if she’s planning her child’s wedding.

“Thank you, mom.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

“Ana?”

“No, Mrs. Adams, I mean, Carla. This is Christian.”

“Oh, Hi Christian?” she replies in a questioning tone. “Is everything alright?” she asks immediately concerned.

“Ana and I are well, but Ray had been in a car accident. He’s being cared for in a hospital in Portland.”

“Dear God! Is he alright?” she shouts, shocked.

“Yes," I say in an even, reassuring tone. "He’s in stable condition. He’s being given the best care by the best doctors available. Uhm… I know, this isn’t the right time, but it’s Ana’s birthday tomorrow, and she has been very upset about her dad, and I thought it would cheer her up to have her family and friends for her birthday tomorrow night,” I say and correct myself, “a surprise birthday. I would be in your debt if you and Bob came. I know it would make it utterly memorable for her if you were here with her,” I say.

“Oh! Yes… yes.”

“I’ll have my company jet pick you up tomorrow, and take you back. I would appreciate it if you don’t call her even though you are aware of Ray’s condition, and if she does call you, please keep the surprise party a secret.”

“Christian! You are a wonderful son-in-law! Yes, of course we would come. It’s my baby’s birthday after all. And…” she chokes on her words. “…and poor Ray. I’d like to see him. I'm sorry Christian. Don’t mind me. I’m a weepy old thing, but thank you. Thank you for caring for my baby, Christian.”

“It’s what I do. She my wife,” I say possessively. I can feel her smiling on the other hand of the phone.

After hanging up with Carla, my mother comes up smiling.

“They’re coming,” she says simply.

“Great!” I reply and send a text to Taylor, informing him that plans are a go, and to let Andrea make further arrangements for travel and lodging for the guests. And I make my last phone call to Jose, Jr.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

When we get back to the Heathman, both Ana and I are exhausted, but in a better mood than earlier in the day. Anastasia slips into my white t-shirt and gets into bed.

“You seem brighter,” I say tentatively as I pull my pajama bottoms on.

“Yes. I think talking to Dr. Sluder and your mom made a big difference. Did you ask Grace to come here?”

I slip into the bed, and pull my wife into my arms turning her face away from me, spooning.

“No,” I reply. “She wanted to come and check on your dad herself.”

“How did she know?”

“I called her this morning.”

“Baby, you’re exhausted. You should sleep.”

“Hmmm…” she murmurs in agreement, completely tired. She cranes her head around to look at me questioningly. I know that look. But I also know that she won’t be here completely with her mind and body. And when I have her, I want all of her here. Right now, all I want to do is hold my wife, and show her I love her. She turns over and snuggles against me wrapping her leg over mine.

“Promise me something,” I say softly.

“Hmm?” she hums her question.

“Promise me you’ll eat something tomorrow,” I say barely containing myself. She hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and that was ages ago. “I can just about tolerate you wearing another man’s jacket without frothing at the mouth, but, Ana… you need to eat. Please.”

“Hmmm,” she acquiesces. I kiss her hair.

“Thank you for being here,” she mumbles then sleepily kisses my chest.

Why would she thank me for it? I’m her husband. I promised to love, safeguard, protect, care for and, support her and share her sorrows and comfort her in times of need; to be at her side.

“Where else would I be? I want to be wherever you are, Ana. Being here makes me think of how far we’ve come. And the night I first slept with you. What a night that was. I watched you for hours. You were just…yar,” I breathe remembering. She smiles against my chest.

“Sleep,” I murmur my command. She closes her eyes, and soon we both fall asleep.

Dream on – Aerosmith