BOOK IV - Chapter XVI - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

CHAPTER XVI

Nightmares

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood here wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Anastasia?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Anastasia!"--

Merely this, and nothing more...

Edgar Allan Poe

How can a man fall in love with his wife all over again? This creature sleeping in my arms is the most precious person that exists for me. She wants to learn to take control. I knew she had untapped skills which I long wanted to explore, and learning control gives greater access to our secret abilities. Darker abilities… I lightly kiss her shifting form in my embrace. She snuggles up to my chest and perfectly fits into the crook of my arm. Her arm reaches around my torso seeking her own connection.

“Christian…” she murmurs. I open my mouth to respond, but note that her eyes are still closed, deep in slumber. She’s sleeping. It makes me happy to no end that she is still thinking of me even in her sleep. I slide off the bed, put my jeans on, with my chest still bare, swoop my wife up wrapped in the red sheets, and carry her out to our bedroom. I don’t like sleeping in the playroom. Though I don’t think Anastasia minds sleeping in it; I still prefer her in my bed. She’s no longer intimidated about the playroom which makes me immensely happy. The way she worked her way back to the Playroom makes me think she find pleasure and comfort in it after all. I unlock the door with one hand while supporting my wife’s body in my arms. I open the door and exit the room with my wife in my possession.

My exhausted girl buries her head deeper into my chest. I come down the stairs and walk the stretch of the Great Room. Mrs. Jones is busy cooking in the kitchen. My feet only makes soft padding footfalls, and not loud noises. But, with her keen hearing, Mrs. Jones looks up from her task of cutting vegetables and cooking.

“Are you ready…” Mrs. Jones starts as she looks up from her task. “…for dinner?” her voice falls to a chagrined manner. I just shake my head in response and mouth “not yet.” Mrs. Jones turns crimson, and lowers her head to her task as she nods her agreement to me. I walk into our bedroom, and close the door with the heel of my foot. I lay Anastasia on the bed under the covers and make sure she doesn’t get cold. She looks exhausted. Pregnancy, today’s event’s, the Playroom… No wonder why she’s sleeping  the sleep of death. The thought makes me wince. Her hair is fanned on her pillow. I slowly lie on the covers.  Extending my hand to her hair gently, I rub it slowly pushing it away from her face. A deep sigh escapes her lips. The vibration of my Blackberry sitting on the side table both startles me and makes me frown. Who would be calling? I lean in and look at the name. It’s Welch. I sigh. I slowly lower my legs and stand upright and take the Blackberry.

Find him,

Bind him,

Tie him to a pole and break his fingers to splinters.

Drag him to a hole until he wakes up,

Naked, clawing to the ceiling of his grave.

The mariner’s Revenge

“Grey,” I answer curtly. I open the drawer and find a white t-shirt to pull over.

“Welch’s here,” here greets me.

“What’s up?” I ask as I slowly pad my way out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me.

“I have uncovered the how the news got leaked.”

“How?” I ask as I head towards my study.

“They heard it from the horse’s mouth. From Mrs. Grey,” he says. I halt in my tracks.

“Come again?” I ask.

“I should rephrase that statement. The paparazzi’s source eavesdropped on a private conversation Mrs. Grey was having. The source however is credible. Clearly, Mrs. Grey wasn’t announcing her pregnancy to whoever was listening in. She was with Ms. Kavanagh last week at her wedding planner’s. Ms. Kavanagh asked Mrs. Grey if she was absolutely sure of the due date of her baby to which Mrs. Grey replied that her doctor the two of you that her baby was due either on May 11^th or the 12^th. Then Miss Kavanagh said to her that the Country Club they were reserving was available a week and a half before, and a week after her baby was due. They were holding both dates to get a clear due date from Mrs. Grey. Miss Kavanagh was asking Mrs. Grey if they should do the wedding before the baby was due because her Maid of Honor dress would be made to fit her pregnancy size, and it would be hard to do the adjustments in that short of a time frame or whether Mrs. Grey was up to the task so shortly after the baby is born…” he says. So, Kavanagh was careless enough to discuss Anastasia’s unannounced pregnancy in front of complete strangers.

“Who was the person that spilled the beans to the paparazzi?” I ask gritting my teeth as I walk into my study. And how would they know that it was worth money or mean anything to someone?

“He wouldn’t reveal the name, sir. It could have been anyone who was working that day. But then again, there couldn’t have been a lot of people. These planners have a few assistants, and Miss Kavanagh would be a high profile client for her, so most of the employees would have been informed about confidentiality of the clients’ conversations unless it’s someone who is newly hired and shrewd. But even then, it would have been made abundantly clear that these clients care about their privacy immensely,” I sink into my chair, and start keep tapping my fingers on my table.

“So, the leak was accidental?”

“I couldn’t easily dismiss it as an accidental overhearing, Mr. Grey. Clearly someone listened in on a private conversation that went on between Mrs. Grey and Miss Kavanagh. That’s why the information came out of the blue. The person who leaked it wasn’t known to the paparazzi who usually have someone planted in these expensive venues where rich and famous shop, and of course a wedding planner such as the one Miss Kavanagh’s family chose only caters to a certain high level income bracket. However, the individual who called the paparazzi knew the ropes, knew exactly whom to call even though he or she acted naïve. The reporter however didn’t want to reveal his source. Because, if he reveals it, the subsequent stories may not come his way from other willing sources. However, for a few thousand dollars, he revealed the location which gives us a starting point.”

“So, you have no clue who that was?”

“I have to go and interview the wedding planner tomorrow. By the time I have uncovered the first part, she was gone to meet one of her clients and wasn’t in her office.”

“Just out of curiosity…. Why wouldn’t the paparazzi part with the source’s name? Clearly, he could have leveraged it with something else he wanted from you in return,” I query.

“The information he would get from us would be one piece of information and finite in lieu of the name he would be releasing. Disclosing the name of the source can be notorious among his peers and clearly it would be very bad for his line of work. On the other hand, I got the feeling that he either expects more from that source either a lead to another story, or that he’s certain that he will get more information about Mrs. Grey, perhaps something more valuable.” The rage I feel is instantaneous, and murderous. I find myself holding the edge of my desk so hard, my knuckles turn white. This is my wife, and someone out there is willing to trade information about without having any regard for her safety.

“What does that mean? None of the conversations are private in that place?” I hiss. I have to warn my brother to put a muzzle on his fiancée if he has to. Her loose mouth is going to hurt my wife! Marrying a Grey family member requires family loyalty, and protecting the interest of the members this family comes first; we protect one another, not undermine one another willingly or otherwise. Kavanagh’s behavior is discombobulating. We would never put her in such jeopardy so carelessly. She is a journalist. She should know how media works. A confirmed bachelor billionaire marrying and getting his wife pregnant on their honeymoon is the wet dream of a gossip magazine. Clearly the careless remarks of Kavanagh discussing Ana’s her due date has simply thrusted my wife against her will or her wishes into the center of the tabloid universe which clearly terrified her.

Welch’s husky voice brings me back here and now. “I’m quite sure that they go to great lengths to keep their client’s privacy a priority. Otherwise they could have never attained the level of respect from the upper crust clients they’re attracting. That’s what I’m counting on to ensure the owner’s cooperation in uncovering the perpetrator. A displeased Grey family would certainly be a blow to their credibility as a business that caters those who requires utmost confidentiality and professionalism.” I may be perceived as a rich prick who demands confidentiality, but then again, hardly anyone want their lives dissected, analyzed and criticized on the national arena. I will do everything to keep my wife away from such exposure and I will punish anyone who wishes her harm.

“Here’s my concern: If you are so confident that this couldn’t be a loose mouth employee, then there must be an underlying threat you’re seeing which you have not explained to me yet.”

“I can’t jump into conclusions without solid evidence Mr. Grey. I have to first eliminate the apparent suspects, namely the employees who were working on the day Mrs. Grey was present. I want to get their names, and interview them personally. I will also see if they had any delivery man, repairman, or other possible patrons who were there at the time. Though I have spoken to Sawyer who secured the area. He said he kept everyone at the allocated distance from Mrs. Grey. As I eliminate those possibilities, I have to explore the darker aspects, other possible malicious intent. Miss Kavanagh and her mother settled on this particular wedding planner about a month ago. You and Mrs. Grey are unapproachable for others. But, Miss Kavanagh is not as unapproachable. She has not accepted our offers of providing security for her...” says Welch putting it mildly. I remember the response Welch relayed back: ‘Keep your leash on somebody else! I’m not marrying you; I’m certainly not marrying your security detail! Keep them away from me! If I see them around me without my permission you can be sure that I will call the cops on them for stalking! I’m not Ana.’ And that just about sums it. She’s not Ana, but in a way, her carelessness is putting my wife in danger.

 

“…But it makes Miss Kavanagh an easy target to tail should someone wanted to get to Mrs. Grey. They’re best friends, and with Miss Kavanagh’s wedding preparations where Mrs. Grey is partaking, it’s possible some of your adversaries to explore those options to find vulnerabilities. You’re only as strongly protected as your weakest link. And, there you have your weakest link, sir.” I run my hand through my hair in exasperation.

“I can’t make my brother’s fiancée to agree to have security. I have had a hard enough time with my own sister. Even she eluded me,” I say angrily, remembering how she got kidnapped to bait Anastasia.

“Find out who was responsible, and determine how to plug that security hole. I want to fuck-ups, no dangers directed to my family, especially towards my wife. Understand?” It’s not a question. It’s an order.

“Perfectly, sir.”

After hanging up, I hold the bridge of my nose to ward off an oncoming headache. Katherine Kavanagh and Jose Rodriguez are the two thorns on my side. Ana, I think proudly, has taken care of him. The ball crusher however has to be reasoned with. She’s not only my brother’s fiancée, but she is also my wife’s best friend. I can’t completely eliminate her from our lives, or forbid Ana to see her. I’d like to, but I can’t. She doesn’t have many friends and the ones she has are pains in my ass. I gotta see Flynn. I still haven’t completely settled the fears of becoming a father. Maybe tonight if Ana’s is well, maybe tomorrow.

My door opens slowly and I look up with anger. Seeing Anastasia, my gaze softens.

“Hi,” she says in a velvety voice. “Why are you holed up here?” My gaze thaws as I look at my wife. She’s still same girl I married, but her features are now more defined, shapely, her body is well toned, and there’s something else about her. Pregnancy is making her more curvaceous, her breasts fuller, firmer, her hips rounder, and her nipples are getting deliciously longer; in fact she is slowly getting a womanly roundness to her belly right above her pubic bone.

Anastasia is wearing her low cut shorts and tank tops, baring her long legs, watering my mouth. Her chestnut hair is down to her waist, and shiny, begging me to run my hands through them. My wife looks at me with her blue eyes, arresting me in my place. She licks her lips as if she’s parched for water, and then captures her lower lip between her teeth, thoughtfully punishing it. She walks towards me slowly. Rounding the table, she stands before me. My gaze remains on her with full intensity, unblinking. I turn my chair to accommodate my wife. She climbs up on my lap, and curls into me, seeking refuge as if something scared her. My embrace instantly closes on her, and I hug her tighter into my chest.

“What is it?” I ask softly, inquisitively as I try to hide my anxiety.

She shakes her head.

“Anaaa!” I reprimand without raising my voice.

“Just had a bad dream, that’s all.” I lift her face up with my index finger, searching for any evidence that there’s more to what she’s stating.

“You promised to be open with me.” I say trying not to accuse her.

“I was just sleeping Christian. What else could have happened? It must have been the days’ events came crashing down on me,” she whispers. Then her voice goes lower if it was even possible. I strain to hear her. “I saw that our baby was hurt, in the commotion of a large crowd. All I was seeing was camera flashes everywhere. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t see. And the baby was there for one minute, gone the next. I could hear the baby’s cries. Hurt cries…” she shudders. “My heart broke. It was instinctive. I tried to shove people aside, and so did Sawyer. But, all I could see was that the crowd was growing and somehow pushing you and Taylor away. No matter how hard we tried to push them away to reach one another, it just got impossible. And the Blip was screaming. We both tried to find him. Just couldn’t… Then I lost it. I was like a mad woman. I don’t know how to do crowd control. I’m frightened, Christian. A lot.” She states simply with shaky voice. I dig my nose into her hair, inhaling her deeply.

“I won’t let that happen. I will NEVER let that happen!” I emphasize. “Crowds will not part us. I will protect both of you. And Ana… thank you, baby,” I whisper. She lifts her head up, tilting it back, she looks at me confused.

“For what?” she asks.

“For being honest with me. Open. You opened up, told me about your dream, let me into your nightmare so I can make it go away. I’m grateful, baby.” A semblance of a smile reaches, and tugs the corners of her mouth.

“Would you like to go see Flynn with me this evening?”

“This evening? I didn’t know you had an appointment with Flynn.”

“I don’t. Yet. But, I pay him a small fortune to be available when I need him to be. You’re shaken up, and it’s giving you nightmares. I want to make this go away and I will but I need to have you get help first.” She sighs.

“Okay.”

“I’ll call and let Flynn know, and then we’ll eat dinner before we go.” Her stomach growls as if in agreement.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

John Flynn is surprised to hear that both of us are coming. I can hear the slight tinge of excitement in his voice. Even if he wasn’t available tonight, he is making sure that he can come and see us both in his office. Even Flynn isn’t immune to Anastasia’s charms.

Mrs. Jones has fixed chicken marsala, mashed potatoes, and spring mix salad. I pour myself white wine, and Ana eyes it with yearning.

“Sparkling water, juice, or ginger ale Mrs. Grey?” I ask.

“Cranberry juice and ginger ale, please,” she says.

“Any particular reason for the mix? Is it craving?”

“Yes, but not you’re thinking. I’m going to close my eyes and pretend that it’s cranberry juice and vodka.”

“Cosmo? Hmmm…” I murmur. “Georgia,” I say as my gaze darkens with wanton desire.

“Christian!” she chastises me in a low voice her eyes darting back and forth to Mrs. Jones who is putting away dishes and studiously ignoring us. After she puts the last container, she quietly walks away from the kitchen.

“Well?” I ask. I’m a man with a healthy sexual appetite and I’m lusting after my wife especially when she’s referring to a passionate reunion we’ve had.  

“I want you, but not right now.”

“Why not now?” I ask, visibly tensing with her denial. Was I too harsh on her earlier? “I bet I can change your mind,” I coax her in a husky tone.

“Yes, you can, Mr. Grey. Easily. But are you forgetting that we are going to see Flynn?”

“Flynn can wait,” I say leaning into her ear whispering. My eyes are wide, focused on her face. I watch her eyes soften and her lips slowly part. Her tongue slowly caresses over her top lip. She sets an intense and immediate fire within me which takes over my body, spreading like wild fire, coursing through my veins. My cock is throbbing for her, ready to steal my wits.

“I want to see Flynn. I might get better focused… after we see him.”

“I bet I can get your mind off of whatever’s bothering you,” I murmur. She sighs; pursing her lips, then bites her lower lip.

“When you do that…” I say as I slowly tug her chin to free her lower lip, then lean and kiss it. Taking it into the captivity of my teeth, I suck and then slightly bite it. Finally I lick her lip to take the sting away. “…being inside you is all I can think about, baby,” I murmur into her mouth, making her gasp. Her hands slowly travel up into my hair. Her fingers thread among the clumps of my hair, pulling me into her. I moan a deep guttural sound.

“Bed!” she moans finally giving in and I swallow the sound of her voice with my kisses grinning. Finally pulling back, I kiss her nose.

“Have you forgotten that we have an appointment with Dr. Flynn? Come, let’s go,” I say standing up, extending my hand. She blinks, confused.

“What the hell?” she asks. “Did you not just turn me on full blast? Now you’re leaving me hot and bothered!” I hide a smile.

“I’ll service you when we get back baby. Think how good it will be. Anticipation, Ana, is the key to seduction,” I murmur without taking my gaze off her. I lean down and inhale her scent deeply once again.

She groans. “Why on earth are you torturing us?” she complains.

“Lesson number two, baby: Managing your urges. Can you focus on something entirely different while you have an overwhelming, base, elemental desire to do something else?” I pull her to her feet with enough force to keep her flush with my body.

“Hunger…” I whisper as I kiss her nose. “Thirst…” I kiss the left corner of her lips. “Lusssst…” This time my voice is low, deep, passionate, and hungry for her. I kiss the right corner of her lip. “Unbearable urge to fuck…” A sharp exhale and a desperate whimper escape her lips. Anastasia and I are very in tune of each other. She responds to my body, the tone of my voice, the way I look at her instantly.

“I thought you said we’re going to Dr. Flynn’s,” she says swallowing. One side of my lips curls up in semblance of a smile. I catch her buttocks and pull her into my ever growing erection. I lock her hands behind her back, and rub my erection through the fabric of our clothes. She tilts her head back, her hair touching the arm I’m using to immobilize her hands. A groan of pure lust reverberates her throat as I lean down and nip and lick her exposed throat.

I pull her back up and tug her behind me. “Let’s change and go see the good doctor,” I say with the intimate timbre of my voice, leaving my wife hot as if she’s on fire.

“Christian, it’s not fair!” she complains as we reach our bedroom door.

“What isn’t fair Mrs. Grey?” I ask innocently.

“You know what! You’re leaving me hot and bothered! And don’t act so innocent!” she says frowning. I close the door behind us and tug her into our closet.

“Mrs. Grey, you’re wounding my ego. I’m merely trying to help you learn control. The lessons aren’t over yet. You want to master the skills, don’t you, baby?” I ask challenging her.

“Yeees!” she says grunting. This time I grin in her response.

“I won’t be able to focus, Mr. Grey!”

“That’s the point. I want you to learn to compartmentalize each and every feeling. Redirect your urges, and focus on something else…”

“It’s only going to get worse!”

“Yes, but you will be able to hold off. That’s what being provoked feels like. If you give the expected reaction, they’ll know how to goad you.”

“It’s hard with you, Christian!” she complains. I turn to her unexpectedly, picking her off the floor; I press her back to the wall. She immediately wraps her legs around my torso, and her arms snake around my neck. My cock is aching for her. This is punishing for me as well, but I mean to collect big at the end of the night. My mouth seals over hers with ferocious hunger. We’re all tongue and lips. Every angulation and stroke of my hip pushes into her. She softens and opens her legs up wider. Her arms fall behind me, scratching and clawing; trying to pull me into her, her body is screaming at me to crawl inside her. She’s primed and ready to go. When I finally let her down, she’s panting.

“Christian, were you just teasing me?” she asks.

“No, baby,” I answer calmly, though I am barely restraining my urges.

“You don’t want me then?” Her eyes worried, horrified even.

I take her hand and place it on my straining erection.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you, Mrs. Grey?” She visibly swallows, hard.

“N..n..no..” she stutters.

“Good, because, I do! We have an appointment to get to. I just want you to be focused on that.” She thinks about it for a minute.

“It’s a hard lesson, Christian,” she says pursing her lips.

“Control, baby. Control!”

“And if I combust?”

“Oh, I got a trick or two to put your fire out,” I smile.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

We’re in the back of the SUV. I don’t let go of Anastasia’s hand.

“Ana, when you went to Kate’s wedding planner last week, who else was there with you?” I ask. She looks at me quizzically.

“Kate, her mom and Mia. Why?”

“Anyone else? Did she have any of the bride maids with her at any time?” Ana narrows her eyes and searches my face. There’s more than curiosity. There’s a tinge of jealousy as well. The kind of jealousy I would feel if my wife’s name was mentioned in the same sentence with another man’s name. This revelation makes me happy of course, but I hide it.

“Why the curiosity in Kate’s bride maids?” she asks without giving an answer.

“Because Welch discovered that the paparazzi leak that hounded you this morning came from someone who was present with you or someone who was there at the wedding planner’s when Kate was discussing your due date coinciding with her wedding. What else did you two talk about?”

“Christian, how did you know what we talked about? Are you having Sawyer eavesdrop on me?” she asks. Her eyes drift to the back of Sawyer’s head whose ears flush pink.

“Jesus, no! I told you, it was Welch who found out. Sawyer’s job is your protection. Don’t reprimand him for doing his job. He’s supposed to do what he’s assigned to do. There are two of you now, and I thought you would think the safety of our Blip above Kavanagh’s…” she glares at me, “Kate’s,” I correct myself, “wedding plans. It isn’t because her wedding is unimportant, baby. But somehow you end up being on the end that gets harmed.” She sighs.

“Kate told me that she refused the security measures you offered her. She said she doesn’t want to be like me, tailed and followed by security to have only the illusion of privacy.”

“That’s fine, but she has to be careful to not to blurt out our private information. Then we’ll end up keeping her out of the loop.”

“Christian, this wouldn’t have been a big deal if I was Jose’s or Ethan’s wife,” she says. I growl.

“Jose or Ethan?” I bellow. Is she goading me?

“You know what I mean,” she corrects herself.

“No, Anastasia! I don’t know what you mean. Explain to me how Jose or Ethan got into the conversation as the hypothetical fathers of MY child in you!” I hiss in a dangerously low voice.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it that way. It came to my mind first because that’s what Kate had said.” The ball crusher makes her way into our relationship again!

“Anastasia,” I say lacing our fingers. “Katherine Kavanagh doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of what happens to you. Honestly, I’m disappointed in her that, she as your best friend who was devastated about you when you were in the hospital after Hyde’s attack would have a little more consideration. Especially when that said friend is pregnant!” I say with fervor. “But the consequences of your actions and the actions of your friends who maybe careless about our privacy ends up falling on you – on all three of us! Kate cannot possibly worry about you the way I do… Clearly… Because I’m the one who is in love with you! It’s easy for Kate or anyone else to have opinions about my life, yours, and ours, but they’re not me, they’re not you, and they’re not us! They don’t live our lives. I am worth a lot of money. When people want a piece of that, they will not stop at any means to harm you, or get their hands on you. There are people who would inflict harm on your and our child for a pack of cigarettes without any second thoughts! It’s that simple. You become a means to an end. I don’t want you or MY wife and child to pay the consequences of those actions. I thought we agreed on that.”

“Yes, we did. It’s just hard for me to comprehend that even an innocent conversation of my due date would bring some harm. That’s what bothers me! It’s as if I can’t have girl time with my best friend, or enjoy what others of my age are enjoying, even simply being pregnant.”

“Baby, I thought being Christian Grey’s wife has countless benefits,” I say with a lascivious smile, softly caressing her face with the back of my hand. She leans into my touch, her eyes closed. “We just have to use a little more discretion. Now, tell me, who else was there, Anastasia?” She rolls her eyes.

“The wedding planner, two of her assistants, Mrs. Kavanagh and Mia. Sawyer waited at the door to give us privacy. Oh, and I briefly saw a very good looking man in his early 30s. He was tall, well built, maybe in the military, but he didn’t have the buzz cut Taylor or Sawyer had. The wedding planner didn’t introduce us, but he might have been her boyfriend by the way he held her behind the wall.” I grit my teeth in the amount of description she gives me of this man. If she paid this much attention to his appearance in the brief time she’s seen him not to mention when she was with the loudmouth Kavanagh… Jealousy rises in me again.

“I’m not sure if I like it that you paid so much attention to another man, Mrs. Grey. And how would you know he was in the armed services if he didn’t have the telltale signs of the buzz cut?”

“Because I’m the daughter of an ex-army man who has been to combat. It’s the way they walk, look at you, or scan a place they enter as if they’re about to be ambushed.  But he didn’t stay long. He just nodded at us, and then he was busy fondling the wedding planned until she happily shooed him away.”

“Did he leave the building?” I purr.

“Your voice is so hot, you can melt wax, husband,” she says pursing her lips, her eyes eat me up as if I am the desert, a banquet for a starving woman, then sighs. My hand settles on her knee intimately, and then I squeeze it, slightly moving it up to her thigh. Her gaze follows the movement of my hand hungrily. She swallows. Without lifting her gaze up she says, “He left, but I couldn’t tell you whether he left the building, or her showroom.” Taylor turns into Flynn’s office’s parking lot and parks. Both Sawyer and Taylor jumps off the SUV and open the doors for us. I get off the car immediately and rounding behind the car I reach Anastasia, holding her hand. Lacing our fingers, I walk towards Flynn’s office door. A cool breeze courses over us, making Ana shiver. I pull her to my side.  John Flynn opens the door to greet us with a warm smile.

“Anastasia, how wonderful to see you! I hear congratulations are in order,” he says extending his hand. Anastasia takes the proffered hand with a genuine smile of her own.

“Hi Christian,” he says and shakes my hand. “Taylor, Sawyer,” he says nodding at them.

“Dr. Flynn,” they both reply in unison.

“Shall we?” he says pointing in the direction of his warm, masculine furnished office. Ana and I sit in the dark leather sofa that could accommodate both of us. I put my right ankle on my left knee. My hand reaches to Anastasia’s and I hold her hand over my lap. Anastasia leans into me. Dr. Flynn watches us and notes how we settle on the sofa, fitting each other, reaching into one another. Ana smiles up at me.

“I have not seen you in several weeks Christian. What would you like to talk about today?”

“Ana hasn’t been feeling well. I was reluctant to leave her in that state,” I say shrugging. John tilts his head to side. His face remains neutral, but his eyes twinkle, pleased.

“Are you getting used to the idea of becoming a parent?”

I shrug noncommittal. “What’s not to get used to?” Anastasia looks at me. “It’s my baby.”

“Yes, it is Ana’s and your baby, but that’s not the question I asked. Are you getting used to the idea of becoming a parent?”

I take a deep breath. Anastasia’s pure attention and listening to me. “I am getting used to the idea, in fact I’m becoming possessive of the baby. But…” I pause. Two pairs of eyes train on me.

“But what?” Ana asks before the doctor.

“But, sometimes, when I’m working by myself in the middle of the night, I get this sudden fear that I would be a shitty father,” I say to Flynn. Anastasia tries to move her hand out of mine. I hold it tighter. I turn my gaze with its full dark intensity onto her. “When I feel that way, I come to bed and find you, find my reason for being, then the fear dissipates. You anchor me, Ana.”

“I get angry if anyone refers to our baby even in the hypothetical belonging to someone else,” I say reminding Anastasia Kate’s words. “I become extremely possessive. It’s my baby. But it still doesn’t change the possibility that I might have some genetic defect like the crack whore and fuck this child’s future up by being as bad a parent.”

“Did you talk to Anastasia about your fears?”

“We talked. Some…” I lean back, exhale loudly and look at the ceiling. “The crack whore, Ella… that was her name, she was a bad mother. Poor, lacking, unqualified doesn’t even describe her incompetence. I know that some people just lack the ability…” I turn to Ana then. “You said that she had her own problems to deal with. I get that. I really do! But, then I read stories of women, mothers in Darfur or parts of Africa where I send food. Despite all the hardship, days without food, those mothers try to work miracles to care for their children, because I believe there’s an inborn ability, a maternal, a parental gene. What if Ella lacked that, and she passed that onto me? What if I disappoint you?” I whisper, my gaze begging her to understand. “Sometimes I’m scared shitless about it. What if when you find that out, you leave me? You’ll make a perfect mother. I’m not perfect, unfit. I have nightmares about that…” I say my voice low. Ana’s lips part, her gaze softens, and she wants to say something, but she’s doing the talking with her eyes. There’s trust in them. Love, but not pity. I couldn’t do pity.

“Christian, I too have thought a lot about this, but I think I can give you a plausible answer. Neither one of us knows your birth mother’s personally to assume that she lacked the maternal gene. She was an addict which takes the cognitive reasoning a person could have. Drugs are hard habits to break. It may have been a tool her pimps have employed to keep her under their control. Yet, despite all the hardship, she didn’t abandon you; she kept you,” Dr. Flynn explains.

“But she did, John! When the going got though, she checked out! Left me with her damned dead body for four fucking days!”

“Let us look at it from another point of view if you please. What would have happened had she survived? What would have happened had she given you to her able bodied parents, sibling or other relatives if she had any?

Chances are they may have disowned her, or they may have been gone, she may have been ashamed for the point in life she came to be. We don’t know that. We can only speculate. She may have assumed that the kind of life she would end up leading you would be the kind of life she has led. Even if she was an attentive mother, as attentive as a single working mother in her profession could be, she’d still not be able to give you all you needed. Perhaps, the only way she thought she could thrust you out of the life she was leading was by exiting her own. Parents are known to do the ultimate sacrifice for their children.” I shakes my head, and won’t meet Ana’s or Flynn’s eyes.

“ As a young child, I had only glimpses of love, a moment here, a moment there. One single birthday cake: Chocolate. I remember the scent still. Then sometimes, she’d let me brush her hair. And a few times, she’s let me sleep with her.”

“That’s good, Christian.”

“That’s good?” I ask incredulous. My voice is full of haughty derision. “John, just a fucking handful of good memories in the course of four fucking years! How many positive, joyful memories do your children possess in the course of a single week? I’m not a wagering man, but I’d bet that it would be a lot more than my entire list.” I loathed myself for a long time, because I was unworthy, unloved, and uncared for.

“Christian, you’re an adult now. Our reasoning, the way of our thinking is more complex. Our personalities are multifarious. You are hurt because you loved your mom. All of us in this room discovered that your control issues have stemmed from the fact that you were unable to alter her life’s course; you couldn’t control her circumstances, and consequently you couldn’t change her fate. Those were things that couldn’t have been accomplished by a four year old. I know you don’t want to be like her; a failure in parenting. Ella didn’t have a partner in life to help her in parenting or life in general.”

“She left me! All alone John!”

“And yet, what you got with her departure is a set of loving parents, siblings, consistency, and love. As bad a tragedy as it is Christian, she was the cause of the life you now have. Her death triggered the set of events you couldn’t have had otherwise.”

“Why couldn’t she just give him up for adoption without suicide then, John?” Ana asks curiously.

“Would that lessen the feeling of abandonment, or increase it? Christian was already four years old. He knew the existence of a birth mother. Some mothers who give up their children change their minds. The adoption process is long. If she changed her mind in a weak moment, they would perhaps be back to square one.”

“Dr. Flynn, are you condoning Ella’s suicide?” Ana asks incredulous.

“No, Ana. I am examining the motives of a woman who has left a few clues as to how she was feeling. Analyzing the behavior and condoning are two completely different things. It’s a psychological reconstruct. It doesn’t mean that what she did was right. It merely means that her love was misdirected, misguided. Clearly, you behaved out of love for Christian, and your sister in-law Mia when you put your and your baby’s life in danger. In moments of desperation  especially in Ella’s situation where she had prolonged desolation, it’s very possible that she may have thought that was the only way to end her agony and save Christian’s future at the same time.”

“It’s a lousy way to out, but, I get it,” Ana says.

“Don’t get any ideas!” I scold her.

“You see Christian; our lives are not made up of genetics alone. Environment, circumstances, our own way of thinking affect the outcome as your own life can testify to that end result. If you’re looking for a self-fulfilling prophecy, I’m here to tell you that the patterns you’re looking for can be broken: in fact you have broken them. You possess self-knowledge, and you have an intense desire to change. You told me that you want to be worthy of Ana and her love. You have the capability, mental tools, means, and self-control to manage to be a good parent. Even seasoned parents like myself, have doubts in our abilities. The children don’t come with a manual. Each one is different. But, lucky for us, they don’t start out very complicated. For babies, toddlers, and young children, the equation is quite simple. They are genetically designed to love you and be attached to you in the most primal and selfish way. You will find yourself only wanting to reciprocate, be pulled to that baby who wants nothing but your arms.”

“Mine or Ana’s?” I ask curiously. Dr. Flynn laughs.

“Both. Although I am proud to say that my children prefer me to read to them and put them to bed over my wife’s, but don’t tell that to Rhian.”

“I think Christian’s main worry is that I will love him less, and I’ll end up loving the baby more.”

“Hmmm… Are you worried about that Christian?” John asks.

“I might be slightly worried about that…” I say shrugging.

“Do you love Mia?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love Elliot?”

“Certainly.”

“How about Grace?”

“I adore my mom. Where’s this going John?”

“How about Carrick?” he asks ignoring my question.

“I love my dad.”

“At any moment, did you think the existence of your love for one individual in your family, diminished the love you have for another member of the family?”

“Of course not. I love them all. My love for each of them is different, but then the same.”

“Would you be able to choose between them, hold one of them above the other?”

I think about it for a moment. My mom saved my life. My love and respect for her is immense. My dad accepted my mother’s desire to adopt me without any qualms. He loves me, and has always been supportive of me except when I left Harvard. Each in their own way, love me, and I love them. “I can’t choose. I love them all.”

“So it shall be with your baby. It will be like no other love. You will make room in your heart and your love for Ana will grow for making this love possible for you.” I don’t say anything. I don’t buy into that idea just yet. The fact is I’m terrified of losing time with Ana, or having her attention divided and shifted away from me. But, I will think of that when the time comes.

“Thank you John. I think that’s my friend speaking, and not my shrink.”

“Sometimes what you need is a friend with the professional knowledge of a shrink,” he says smiling.

“We also need to talk about Ana’s fears, John.”

“You have fears about the baby?” Dr. Flynn asks.

“No, Dr. Flynn. I don’t. Christian was referring to my fear of the paparazzi. Fear of losing my privacy, fear of not being able to discuss simple things with my best friend without it becoming tabloid news, fear of not being able to go out without security.”

“Are you worried that Christian’s way of life has too much control over yours?” Her body tenses, and she pulls her hand onto her lap, wringing them. She’s nervous. Is that what she’s thinking? She glances at me nervously, then looks at Dr. Flynn.

“Only months ago, I couldn’t even envision this largesse or the voluptuary lifestyle I’m living in. My husband… Christian sets my blood on fire,” she says, her hand reaching out to my knee and squeezing. “But beyond that, I love him with every fiber of my being. Of course, he constantly reminds me that the abundance in his life is a package deal. It’s part of who he is. I just worry about the dangers it exposes us. More so now that we’re going to have a baby.”

I lift my arm up and wrap it around her, pulling her into my embrace protectively.

“Every life has its own difficulties Ana, whether you are under the radar or not. There are people who possess very little and they’re nearly invisible to others, not because they’re simply under the radar, or we don’t see them, but the general public only affords them terse, brusque, discourteous, impolite and hasty responses. People move over them quickly. As complex as their personalities may be, most people don’t even pay attention to them, and they are simply ignored as if they don’t exist. Life is hard, very hard for them. That might as well have been the life of Ella. Christian, however created a life only few can dream about. He’s a brilliant man, larger than life. The life he created for himself which you are now a part of, is something that creates envy, curiosity, distinction, and makes him beyond an aristocrat. Clearly a beautiful young wife, a baby on the way of a very attractive man who belongs to the 1% of the top 1% of the world’s wealthiest makes news even if he simply sneezes. What you and Christian wear will become fashion. Everything you do will impact big or small because people will be watching. That’s the other extreme end of the spectrum. It doesn’t mean it’s bad; it simply means you have to develop a different set of skills to deal with those aspects of the particular life you two lead.”

“But, Dr. Flynn, you’ve never been ambushed by a group of paparazzi who implied that our baby might not be Christian’s when Christian is the only man I’ve ever been with!” Ana says fervently.

“Ahhh… Now we’re getting someplace. Are you worried that the opinions or accusations of the paparazzi might change Christian’s love and affection for you?”

A barely audible, “yes,” escapes her lips. Her response makes my jaw drop open.

“Christian? Your thoughts on Ana’s worries?” Dr. Flynn asks. I blink a few times. I turn to completely face my wife.

“Ana, how could possibly think that? Did you actually think that the hound dogs of the gossip magazines would somehow change my love for you? If any one of them even try to hurt you in any way, I will make sure that the reporter who made the attempt never works again and that any publication that would try to slander you will be punished so hard that it will be sold bit by bit to their enemies to never ever recover again! I don’t take any threat against you lightly, Ana! You know that.” I say fervently as I lift her chin up and turn her face, forcing her to look up at me. A fearful shudder goes through her.

“I know, Christian,” she whispers.

“Ana, paparazzi isn’t your only worry. Is it?” Dr. Flynn asks.

After hesitating, she responds, “no,” she responds in a low voice.

“What else are you worried?”

Ana looks at me, then turns back to John, shakes her head, remaining silent.

“What?” I ask. John opens his mouth to say something to me. I know where this is going.

“Dr. Flynn, before you say something to send me outside the room, I want to hear what my wife is worried about. Clearly it is something about me. Ana…” I say directing the intensity of my gaze at her with wide eyes, my attention is fully on her. My both legs are now firmly planted on the floor. I lean in and place my elbows on my knees. My hands reach out to hers, seeking her warmth, her connection. “Baby, are you worried about my anger? Are you scared of me hurting you? I need to know, baby!” She looks at me and then at John with wide eyes.

“If it makes you feel more comfortable…” Dr. Flynn starts.

“John!” I warn.

“Christian, my office, my rules!” he says raising his eyebrows. How gallant of you John! Anastasia pulls her hands out of mine in frustration, and throws her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Both of you; keep your britches on! I’m NOT scared that my husband will hurt me. I’m only worried that because of me, he will get hurt! That someone is trying or will try to get to him through me. I don’t know all the rules of dealing with media, especially the gossip media. But I am learning,” she says looking at me. “But even if I was a pro in this, I’d still worry, because I am in love with my husband,” she whispers in a soft voice. “I love you Christian Grey, fiercely, intensely, helplessly, unashamedly, and most ardently. But, the recent events, especially this morning’s ambush made me realize that some people will go to any lengths to hurt us personally and publicly as if they’re on a Sunday picnic, as if their actions have no ramifications, and feel that it’s simply okay to do so. And in that, I’ll get hurt, and they’ll hurt you through me.”

“Security…” I start saying but she holds up a finger.

“I also want normalcy, at least the illusion of privacy which is something I had not realized of it being a luxury for some, for us. Yet, what give me nightmares are the unknown faces who wish you harm  you. That’s what terrified me this afternoon in my nightmare.”

“What was your nightmare about, Ana?” asks Flynn curiously. Her eyes widen again with fear. She takes in a shaky breath. The hand she’s holding mine is squeezing me so tight, her knuckles are white. Dr. Flynn’s eyes assess her entire body language and he scribbles feverishly onto his tablet. Ana’s gaze drifts up to my eyes, seeking reassurance. My gaze in return softens. I shift on the sofa, and reposition my arm around her torso again, holding her tightly under my arm, lending my support. My other hand just holds hers on her lap, my thumb caresses her fingers soothingly.

“I told some of my nightmare to Christian this afternoon,” she starts. She swallows, then takes a shaky breath. “I am walking through a lavish building with arches, Dorian columns into a painstakingly elegant, beautiful room. Then it turns into the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. I’m watching the painted arches, the decorated marble pilasters. It’s ostentatious, splendid… But what is different is that the hall becomes a room with no exit on any side. Aphrodite’s statue is in the middle of the mirrored room. We are admiring her. You,” she says emphasizing, “are admiring her.  Aphrodite’s face is aloof, expressionless, timeless, but before our eyes, her belly starts growing, quite big actually. Your admiration of her changes to something of dislike first. Then when her transformation is complete, she turns into me. It was me. What I saw in Christian eyes,” she says her voice barely audible, “was disgust, disinterest, loss of love. I see myself firmly planted in the place, with a marble base, grown belly, naked top. Then, I remember flashes. Blinding flashes. Thousands of them, amplified by the mirrors. I see my very pregnant, very undesirable image in the three hundred and fifty seven mirrors reflected thousands of times. But the blinding camera flashes continue to come. Voices are loud, mocking, unknown. I have never felt so alone. So… Very… Abandoned. Then I feel pain, horrible pain like I’ve never felt before. The Blip is trying to come out,” she whispers taking a deep shuddering breath. Her eyes are unblinking. She’s lost to her nightmare. She snuggles into me turning small, pulling her legs up under her. Her hands are wringing, she bows her head down. Then both her hands move to her belly protectively. Another shudder goes through her.

“Then something horrible happens. A hand or hands cut me open. I feel the gush of blood, fluids amidst the flashes and mocking noises, and someone yanks my Blip out of me. I hear one cry of the baby, a pained scream more like it. Then it’s gone. I can’t move!” she says her voice is rising. “I am immobile, bleeding, and I can’t even scream. All I see is tears running down the expressionless marble face, and flashes… I have never felt so alone, so impossibly alone in such a mean crowd. So helpless. I felt the absolute loss of everything I loved. I wanted the flashes and the noises to cease. I wanted my feet to be mobile to look for the baby who was already taken by the unknown hands. I wanted to ask Christian to help me. He too was gone, too disgusted with me. Then I had the overwhelming desire to… die…” she whispers to my horrified ears.

I think both Flynn and I look at her with the same shocked, gaping face. Neither of us is able to say a word to her. John’s feverish scribbling comes to a halt. I think he’s the first one who clears his throat and makes an attempt to talk.

“Is this the first time you’ve had such a nightmare?”

“I’ve had the Versailles nightmare before where Christian walked away from me and disappeared,” she murmurs without looking at me. My gaze on the other hand trained on her.

“Did you know about her nightmare, Christian?” Dr. Flynn asks.

“No,” a curtly reply comes out of me, without looking at Flynn. “You only told me about the other nightmare.”

“You had another nightmare?” Flynn asks.

“I had the other nightmare first. I was too tired and fell back asleep, then I had this nightmare which completely scared me,” she murmurs.

“Why didn’t you tell Christian about your other nightmares before, Ana?” Flynn asks.

“Tell him? Dr. Flynn, all I wanted to do was to forget the nightmare, not firmly plant it into my mind by repeating its content to Christian! And usually I would… forget it. But of late, it’s been coming back to me with intensity, and after what happened this morning, I had this nightmare. There was just no way I could forget it. I was terrified,” she says her breathing is rapid as if she just ran a marathon.

“How about the desire to die? Is this a first in your nightmare? Is this limited to your nightmares? Do you have thoughts of suicide?” he asks softly. I stiffen immediately, looking at Anastasia, seeking the truth in the words she’s going to utter.

“Nooo!” she says fervently. “No thoughts of suicide! It was a first in my nightmare. I had never felt that emotion before. But then again, I had never lost everything I loved,” she says looking at me while her hands are on her belly protectively. “I have never felt the absolute desolation, everything I loved taken away or walked away from me. I have felt the loss of my reason for being,” she says her eyes brimming with unshed tears. I hear a sharp intake of breath as my unblinking eyes look at my wife, and realize it’s me. Right in front of Dr. Flynn’s widened, surprised eyes, I pull Anastasia onto my lap, hold her tightly, inhaling her scent.

“I will never let you go, Mrs. Grey. Do you think it’s that easy to get rid of me? You are my woman, and that is our baby. No one will dare to harm you or him. I will cherish you still no matter how big your belly gets with our child. Got it?” I whisper for her ears only. It gives me another firm determination to find out who is causing all this trouble. She silently nods.

“Ana, one more question…” Flynn says clearing his throat. I let Ana sit next to me again on the sofa, but I don’t let go of her, keeping her tightly under my arm. “Did the thought of death ceased once you woke up from your nightmare?”

“Once I oriented myself, realized it was a nightmare, something that was outside of my control, it dissipated like smoke. Yes, completely gone. That is not who I am Dr. Flynn, but it emphasized that I had no control of the events around me, or what others do to me. When Christian walked away in my nightmare, the people still continued to do what they were doing to me, mocking, laughing, taking pictures, and endless camera flashes. But this time, I was completely, absolutely, singularly alone. That’s the worst feeling because it was amplified with the feeling of loss. It’s thousands of times worse than just being all alone. It’s as if my heart and soul were ripped into shreds irrevocably.” Her body shakes. Another shaky breath is inhaled. Then her voice goes very low. “I can’t survive you, Christian. I can’t survive being without you,” she whispers.

Alone – Celine Dion

“Ana, it is unhealthy to think that you can’t survive someone…”

“Someone?” I retort tilting my head.

“Let me rephrase it. It is unhealthy to think that you can’t survive Christian,” he says. “Love is a very strong emotion. But you’re both very young. These aren’t the kind of emotions that should be filling your head with. Given that you’re pregnant...”

“John, what is that a testimonial?” I ask. Dr. Flynn sighs.

“Christian, we’re only analyzing Anastasia’s nightmare, and we want Anastasia to have a healthy set of emotions. Her hormones may also be affecting her current distress. Coupled with her experience with the paparazzi, she is distressing. Ana needs reassurance and a break.”

“And that is professional opinion? John, emotion by definitions is a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from a person’s circumstances, mood or relationship with others. Health is not always involved. They’re subjective, conscious experiences and natural responses to those experiences.”

“Yet they can be harmful which is why it’s paramount that she learns to direct them in positive channels, and not let them take over her cognitive appraisal, action tendencies and definitely not lower her mental and physical defenses.”

“Agreed,” I nod firmly.

“How do I do that?” Ana asks in a determined tone.

“By knowing what something really is. You and Christian are ‘news makers’ which makes other people curious. An attack by paparazzi doesn’t have to be personal. They want money, and only a sensational story can make that happen because of that public curiosity in the lives of a handsome couple. Don’t give them the reason to pursue you more by reacting to their accusations in the way they expect you to. Your defense against them is to understand the motives behind, and learn how to deal with it. Your fears will only make them goad you more.

Understand that each and every person has fears and worries. None of us is immune to them. We have no guarantees in life. But the effects of those fears, phobias that finally infest our dreams can be lessened if we learn to take control of our lives and not letting them overrun us by simply by understanding why we are afraid. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen. Think of the time when your father was in the hospital. You didn’t have any control of what happened to him, or how his body responded to treatment. You and Christian did the only thing possible: provided him with the best medical care that was available, and let his body do the rest. The fact is, a lot happens out of our control as Christian found out when you got pregnant, and when you were attacked by Hyde,” he says a shudder goes through me as if someone just walked over my grave.

“How do you intend to deal with it?” he asks Anastasia. “Are you going to let outsiders to take control of your life and emotions or do you wish to keep that control in your own hands? You can’t control how others behave, but you can control how you react,” he says raising his eyebrows.

Anastasia nods.

“I won’t let outsiders control my reactions,” replies Anastasia.

“Good. I’d like to see you both again, soon,” Flynn says with a smile. We stand up to leave.

“Christian, may I have a word with you privately?” he murmurs.

“Sure,” I reply curiously. Worry washes over me, drenching my soul. What is wrong?

Sting ft. Stevie Wonder - Fragile

Thank you for patiently waiting everyone. Chapter 17 will be posted in one hour :)