BOOK IV - Chapter II - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Pablo Neruda

BOOK IV

CHAPTER II

PAIN of DEATH

My heart and my world are shattered beyond recognition with her confirmation. Why then did she say she’d never leave me before? Was it part of a grander scheme? I want to believe that she loved me. How can I though? I’m unlovable. Unworthy. I have to know why she was with me if she didn’t love me. She told me she didn’t care about my money at every chance she got. Why now? The idea that she might have wanted me for money is killing me. I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want my dad or Elena to be right. I thought the love we had was sacred. What I feel for her is sacred. It will never change. Even if all she wanted from me was money. But I need to hear this from her even it kills me.

“But why the cash? Was it always the money?” I ask finally in a barely audible voice, the torment of my soul is evident in every syllable I utter.

“No,” comes through a teary whisper. It’s me, then. I screwed it up.

“Is five million enough?” I ask. What is five million when I lose my soul, the love of my existence?

“Yes,” she whispers.

“And the baby?” I ask. I don’t recognize my own voice. I am losing my wife, and my child. She finally saw that I’m unfit to be a father, to be her husband. We argued before. Fought. Sulked for days. But we always found a way to make up. What about our baby? How can I possibly worry the loss of someone whose existence scared the life out of me? But I do.

“I’ll take care of the baby,” she murmurs. She sounds like she’s made up her mind, further breaking my heart, killing me slowly.

Killing me Softly – Roberta Flack

“Is this what you want?” I ask, tormented. I have to know. I want to beg her, see a shred of hope. Please tell me ‘no’! Give me something to fight with.

“Yes,” she replies emotionless.

I think the pain of death is preferable to this one single word; because I’m dying. I inhale sharply, painfully. She plunges the final stab into my heart and twists the knife with this one word, one confirmation.  “Take it all,” I hiss. I’ve lost her. Nothing else matters. Property, money, company… They mean nothing without her. She’s stripped me bare of my soul; no need to protect the shell.

“Christian…” she sobs. I feel the love in that one word, and maybe it’s my mind’s self-preservation, a wishful thinking, trying to make me believe what isn’t there. The ache is sharp; my heart is bleeding, cut into a thousand pieces. “It’s for you. For your family. Please. Don’t,” she begs, tearfully.

“Take it all, Anastasia,” I choke. Love destroyed me. But, I would rather love her all my life and feel this pain, than go through an existence devoid of loving her.

“Christian—“she begs. My mind is betraying me once again making me feel her love that isn’t there.

“I’ll always love you,” I declare my love in a hoarse, cracking voice, and hang up on her.

Michael Bublé – That’s all

Taylor is on the phone talking to someone, but I don’t care. I’m collapsed on the floor next to Charlie Tango heaving, trying to push the sobs back, and they keep coming back relentlessly, incapacitating me. I need to call the bank back and get Whelan on the phone. I will still do what Ana wants, what she needs from me. She can get all the money she wants from me. Everything if that’s what she desires… I call the banker’s direct line.

“Troy Whelan speaking.”

“It’s Christian Grey. I’ve spoken to my wife,” I say fighting to push the emotions back. My wife… Am I calling her by that title for the last time?  “Give her the money. Whatever she wants.”

“Mr. Grey, I can’t…” he starts his usual shit about how this is so irregular, out of their norm. I cut him off. Today is the last day I want to listen to anyone whine.

“Liquidate five million of my assets. Off the top of my head: PKC, Georges, Atlantis Corps, Ferris and Umatic. A million from each.”

Then he starts the same shit I expected him to say:

“Mr. Grey, this is highly irregular. I’ll have to consult with Mr. Forlines.”

“I’m playing golf with him next week,” I hiss at him. “Just fucking do it Whelan. Find a way, or I’ll close all the accounts and move GEH’s business elsewhere. Understand?” I shout my demands.

Whelan is speechless at the end of the line. Taylor is on his phone and pacing back and forth, wearing a track on the tarmac and is getting louder than I am.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he bellows. The tone of his voice briefly diverts my attention.

“When?” He stops in his place. “What time exactly?” He says and checks his time; his eyes widen and he stiffens in his tracks.

“Why the fuck would you wait to call this long? You fucking charge over a $1,000 an hour! If Mr. Grey doesn’t fire your ass…” he says and stops. His voice switches from a furious tone to Defcon-1.

“You did? I don’t give a shit! Do you realize that it’s been four hours since he was released? Who did they release him to?... Do you have an address?” his eyes widen with the response he gets. “You, fucking incompetent bastard! Stop yapping! Hang on!” he says and walks towards me, his gaze somber, full of rage, looking like an uncaged predator, mirroring me. He’s put his Blackberry to his chest to muffle our conversation from whoever is on the other end of the line.

“We’ll sort the fucking paperwork out later,” I add, my attention drifting to Taylor.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” says Whelan and I hung up. I rub my eyes, both hands in my hair pulling forcefully as look at Taylor.

“Ana’s leaving me, Taylor,” I mutter with agony in my voice, my soul is desolate. “But I still want to go to the bank and want her to tell me that to my face. I deserve better than a phone call from a bank manager, I think! She can give me that much. Then I’ll let her go. It should take the bank a little while to complete the procedure,” I say.

“I put my reputation on the line that she isn’t leaving you! I know caddy bitches, and Mrs. Grey isn’t one. This isn’t her way, Mr. Grey! ” Taylor says with speedy fervor.

“She’s withdrawing five million dollars. It’s over… I fucked it up,” I say as my entire body is trembling.

“The hell it’s over, Mr. Grey! I need you to run with me to the SUV please,” he says and continues talking full speed as he yanks my arm. “I have profiled countless people in the past. Even a blind man would know that she doesn’t care about your money! Your fucking incompetent attorney just informed me that Hyde is out on bail!" 

"What?" I ask stopping in my tracks.

"Jack Hyde is released on bail!" he repeats.

"When?"

"Sometime this morning. Mrs. Grey withdrawing five million bucks just after the fucker’s release from jail can’t be a coincidence."

"Do you think he's blackmailing her with something?"

"I don't know. There's a lot of missing pieces in this story, and not everything is what it seems.  It's possible. The asshole been out for the last four hours or possibly more! I’ll tell you the details in the car, sir. Can we keep please keep running? We don’t have a second to lose!” he says emphatically, angry and for the first time I realize that Taylor, too has lost control. Then he holds his Blackberry on his ear but I extend my hand firmly for the phone as we run through the parking lot to get to the SUV.

“With fucking pleasure!” he says and thrusts the phone into my hand.

“Who the hell is this?” I bark, adrenaline coursing through me, giving me a shot of energy. A weak voice answers.

“It’s Trent Baxter, sir. Nearly three hours ago, we were informed that Mr. Hyde was released on bail.”

“And you call us now?” I shout, my blood boiling. “My wife may be in danger because of my fucking attorneys’ incompetence!”

“We tried to call you hour and a half ago sir, but both your phone and Taylor’s went to voice mail. We tried calling GEH, and your assistant told us that you were in Portland, and may be in mid-flight which is why we waited to call you until this time.”

“You said three hours,” I say my voice is low and deadly as I continue to run faster than I ever did and we make it to the SUV within excruciatingly long few minutes. “Three fucking hours!” I shout to the top of my lungs. “Three hours ago I was available! You were supposed to prevent this from happening, and if there was an off chance that he was to be granted bail, you were to be informed immediately, and inform me!! I’ll deal with your fucking ass tomorrow!” I growl with malice as slide into the passenger seat of the SUV. Taylor hits the gas before we close the doors.

“I’m sorry Mr…” he says, but I hang up, cutting him off. After handing Taylor his Blackberry, I immediately dial Anastasia’s phone on my own Blackberry. Now that I know the fucker Hyde is granted bail and like a moronic petulant adolescent I didn’t speak to my wife for the last couple of days I’ve no idea where we stand. Something is definitely off, and somehow Taylor’s trust in her chagrins me in the lack of trust I had in my own wife. This is not Anastasia’s way. She would tell me off if she really didn’t want me. If Hyde is behind this, I have to find out. She said, ‘no’ at first when I asked her if she was leaving me. Her shock in hearing my question was as great as mine in asking it. Then she changed her mind in a split second. Something is horribly wrong with this picture. I wait on the line as Anastasia’s phone rings and rings ominously, but she doesn’t answer. I hang up, my insides are twisting.

I speed dial Sawyer then put the Blackberry in the cradle.

“Mr. Grey, I’m at the bank,” he answers without waiting for me to say a word. His voice echoes through the speakers in the SUV’s sound system.

“Do you see Mrs. Grey? Did you get to talk to her?”

“She’s just walking out with the bank manager,” he says and waits. “I’m looking at her right now. She’s holding her finger, saying, just a minute…” he says waits.

“We’re on our way to the bank! Keep her there until we get to the bank!”

“Taylor, ETA?” I ask turning to him.

“Ten minutes,” he says as he floors the gas.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you manage to keep her there?” I ask acidly.

“She just walked back to the manager’s office. The manager is looking surprised by her going back to the room. He just followed her back into his office. Oh shit, Mr. Grey! I have a feeling she’s going to try to evade me again, sir. But, I’m not leaving without her!” he says with determination.

“Sawyer, we’re going to cross under the bridge, the reception may get lost. Stay with her! We’ll be there in a few minutes!” I urge him. I press my foot down on the floor as if I too have an access to the accelerator. But of course I don’t. The line goes dead.

My heart is drumming in my ears. My hands are fisted, rattling the center console.

“She ain’t in it for your money, Mr. Grey!” Taylor says fervently, his gaze fixed on the road. 

“Maybe not… But I’ve been ass.”

"I really am mad at her for not coming to us if Hyde is blackmailing her! But, I can't focus on that right now. We have to rescue her from Hyde!"

"What if she really is...leaving?" I ask, my voice low.

“Mr. Grey. Let’s focus on what we do know, the facts:  If Mrs. Grey was in it for money, she would have taken a lot more. I will speak out of turn, but to give you an unbiased perspective. Five million is pocket change for you, sir! You are worth twelve billion Dollars, for God’s sake!”

“She said she didn’t want it when I told her to take everything…” I mutter.

“That doesn’t sound like someone who is there to take your money! I have an ominous feeling that Mrs. Grey is in imminent danger. I think she’s acting this way because fucking Hyde is out of jail on bail! We don’t know the connection yet, sir. Every fiber in my being is telling me that Hyde has something to do with this. He might be threatening her. With what? That, I don't know,” he bellows.

A violent shudder goes through me as if someone walked over my grave. My breathing increases and my gaze is fixed on the road ahead trying to get to my wife. Taylor hits the breaks and the tires screech and leave a long trail of skid marks as he overshoots the bank’s parking lot. He immediately makes a right turn into the parking lot as the tires drag and the vehicle tilts to left momentarily, then parks the SUV right in front of the bank. Without turning the car off, we both rush into the bank. We find Sawyer arguing with the bank manager loudly.

“I'm asking you one last time: Where did Mrs. Grey go?” he is barking at Whelan.

“If you do not remove yourself from our bank, I will have you forcefully removed, sir,” Whelan is threatening Sawyer. An armed security guard is approaching towards the small cluster of two. As Taylor and I rush into the bank full speed, we come to a skidding halt and barely avoid a collision with two.

“Where is my wife?” I ask Whelan.

“Mr. Grey!” Whelan gushes. “This gentleman has been most impolite seeking the whereabouts of Mrs. Grey,” he complains.

“Of course he does, you fucking ass! He’s her personal bodyguard! Where did Mrs. Grey go?” Whelan’s mouth drops open, and he gestures the bank guard away. The patrons and employees alike are focused on our group, and watching us.

“Mrs. Grey saw this gentleman here, and said that someone was following her, and she wanted to exit from the rear of the bank…” he says, and “through the employee exit,” he qualifies.

“Did you give her the money?”

“Yes sir.”

“Track the car!” I order Sawyer.

“That’s the thing sir. The car is immobile. It’s parked right here,” Sawyer lifts up his phone to show me the dot marking her vehicle.

“I can answer that,” says Whelan trying to get on my good side. “Mrs. Grey left in a black Dodge SUV. A female friend of hers came to pick her up in black pants and shirt and a baseball cap. Come to think of it, Mrs. Grey was very surprised and rather unhappy to see her there. I couldn't say the same about the other person, though.”

“What did she look like? Come on man, speak!” I shout.

“Well, tall, slim, dark hair. She had nondescript clothing, all black and a baseball cap as I said, and sunglasses. But Mrs. Grey recognized her and called her ‘Elizabeth’.”

“Fuck! Elisabeth Morgan?”

“She didn’t say the last name.”

“I’ve got the cell phone on the move!” Taylor says and shouts to the Whelan as he’s heading towards the exit. “Call the cops! This might be a kidnapping!” and we run out to the SUV to follow the signal from Anastasia’s Blackberry.

“Wait!” shouts Whelan behind us as he’s trying to catch up in rapid steps. “This might be important. After Mrs. Grey went back into my office, she asked me to give her a few minutes to make a phone call. Then, right before we went out from the backdoor she asked me to lend my cell phone to her which I did and of course and she now has my phone with her. Does it make sense to you? Because it sure doesn’t to me…” he says.

“Of course it does! She knew her cell phone would be taken and she wanted to be found! Check for your cell phone in the bushes, someplace inconspicuous, trash, dumpster behind the bank. If it's there, we know for sure that they've kidnapped her!” I shout. "If you find it, make sure the cops know that this is a kidnapping!" I hear gasps among the female patrons and employees alike and a few of them already make their way to the back of the bank to assist the manager. My wife knew I would track her! She was leaving breadcrumbs, clues behind her so to speak. This is a life and death situation. We run out at top speed.

Taylor and I jump back into the SUV and Sawyer follows us. Taylor puts his phone in the cradle. The red dot indicating Ana’s Blackberry moves on the map becomes my life line, symbolizing my wife’s position, telling me that she’s alive. Things slowly start falling into place. I’m both hopeful and terrified. Hyde attempted to kidnap, torture and fuck my wife; that’s why he was in jail. Now that he succeeded in kidnapping her, I’m writhing in agony in my seat with worry eating me up alive.

“Let’s move fucking faster, Taylor!” I bellow. Taylor runs every red light, swerves, and weaves between cars, and even drives on the sidewalk narrowly avoiding a few pedestrians before he can jump the SUV in front of a Ford Sedan. I see the red dot coming to a halt by the old industrial part of town. Most of those buildings are abandoned, and I seriously start fearing for her life more than ever. Because the red dot is ominously blinking in the same spot on the map. Did they dump her phone, or did they take her out of the car? What are they doing to her? If Ana was getting the money for herself, she wouldn’t be going to a fucking abandoned factory! I know she’s kidnapped by Hyde. And that gut wrenching feeling is tearing me apart. It’s now a race between life and death! My legs are shaking; my hands are fisted repeatedly thumping like the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

“ETA is two minutes!” Taylor warns, momentarily breaking my ominous thought. I start praying. “Please let her be okay! Please, don’t let harm come to my wife and my baby! Please keep her safe! I love her! I love my wife! Please…” I mutter my prayers under my breath. My lips move but no sound comes out. I violently wipe an escaped tear with my knuckle. My gaze is fixed on the road, and when the edge of the peeling paint, and broken windows of the old warehouses and abandoned factories start appearing, I can hear my own heartbeat thumping in my chest with surmounted uneasiness. We are only about fifty yards away from the red dot. When Taylor enters into the concrete road with cracks on it, giving the SUV's shocks a workout, I finally see the black Dodge SUV parked on the side, and then hear a single shot being fired, shattering my world. My heart stops; all sounds cease to exist except the loud gushing of blood as if a tunnel opened up in my ears. No!! No!

“Anaaa!” I shout and I can see my agony reflected in Taylor’s face. The SUV comes to a screeching halt and I yank the door open and run full speed in the direction of Ana’s body on the concrete ground. I hear other vehicles come rushing, tires screeching, people shouting but I see nothing but my Ana’s body is on the dusty, concrete road, lying motionless. A revolver by her hand. She shot the fucking bastard! Momentary relief floods me but it's short lived.

“Ana!” I shout. My voice reflects the torment, and agony I’m drowning in. I would harrow hell for her, but this… this is killing me. When I reach her, I sink to the ground, and hold her in my arms, and see her eyes close as I reach her.

“ANAAA!” It’s the sound of mournful anguish coming out of me. I wrap my wife in my arms, and vaguely notice Taylor securing Elisabeth Morgan who has her hands up. I hear the sirens in the distance.

“Taylor!” I shout. “Tayloooor!” despairing. He comes running as Sawyer is pointing a gun at Jack who is writhing on the floor. My baby’s face and body forming bruises already, she's cold, her breathing shallow, barely noticeable. “Hold my girl!” I say. Taylor is the only person I can trust her safety at the moment. He doesn’t hesitate, and cradles Ana into his arms.

I turn in his direction with one goal in mind. I am going to kill Hyde with my bare hands. I rush in his direction. Understanding my intent, he wobbles onto his feet pressing down to his bloodied leg with one hand, and half wobbles, half runs away from me. I speed up, and leap on top of him. We roll on the concrete floor a few times. I sit on top of him pressing down on his wounded leg with my knee, and land my punches on his face.

"Fuuuck!" he screams in pain and struggles beneath me while tries to knee me with his good leg.

"Mr. Grey! Your sister is here!" Sawyer shouts as he comes out of the old warehouse with Mia's body is lolling in his arms. With the added sight of my sister to the picture, I totally lose myself. I grab Hyde off the ground and bring him up.

"You fucked with the wrong man's family!” I shout with nothing but murder in my eyes. I grab him at the nape of his neck, and pulling back my leg, I knee him in the groin repeatedly as he feebly tries to fight me off. Then I swing a right hook into his chin, and hear the crack. "Fight me!" I shout. He tries to swing his punch ineffectually.

"Come on!" I taunt him. I grab his head between my hands firmly, and head butt him forcefully three times. The force if our collision rattles my head, but I don't care. Pain is welcome. It makes me feel something again. He groans but manages to land a punch to my left side. It barely registers. I have one goal in mind.

“Mr. Grey! The ambulance is here!” I vaguely hear the sirens and shouts. A woman screams.

“Hold your hands up!” someone shouts. I ignore the warning. I land successive punches on Hyde’s chest; he can barely stand on his feet. He falls to the ground screaming in agony. I lift him up by his hair and punch him repeatedly until my knuckles are bloodied. I feel two people pulling me off him with all their strength.

“It’s enough Grey! You’ll kill him! He’s unconscious already! Go tend your wife; she’s being taken to the hospital!” the voice orders. My eyes are glazed with murderous rage. I struggle out of the hold of the cops who are using all their strength to keep me immobile. I punch one of them and two more takes his place trying to tackle me down. I grab the right arm of one with both hands, my back turned to him using the strength of biceps and forearms. I raise my arms above my head, and twisting his arm with force of both my arms, the cop’s body obeys and he flies through the air and lands on the ground on his back loudly. Another cop tries to subdue me by coming behind me, but using the shoulder elbow lock, I dislocate his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Grey! Stand down! You took Hyde down! Stop!” shouts an authoritative male. I recognize the voice of Detective Clark.

“Hands up, or we’ll shoot!” shouts another skittish cop. I don’t listen. I’m outside of my body; fighting with every cop who is blocking my way to Hyde’s worthless ass methodically with the precision of a well-oiled machine. I want to kill him! I see medics attending him, and putting him on a gurney. The cops are trying to prevent me from reaching him.  

“Detective, get your men to stand down! Keep them away from Grey! He’s distraught. Cut the man some slack! I’ll take him!” It’s Taylor.

“Get him to stop Taylor! My men are only trying to subdue him so he doesn’t harm anyone else! He can’t take law into his own hands! Not in my jurisdiction!” barks the detective back at him.

“Do you really wanna argue that now? Remember who the victim is here, Detective! Grey doesn’t have a weapon! Your cops do! Have them holster their weapons! Don’t force my men to shoot cops! We will if they fire one single shot on him! Get your men to stand down!” I hear Taylor shout. I feel like a cornered wild animal.

“Stand down! Back away! Holster your weapons!” I hear the detective shout. Taylor runs towards me. Cops are slowly stepping back; their weapons are slowly getting holstered. Taylor approaches me with measured steps, his hands are up to show me he means me no harm.

“Mr. Grey! They’re taking Ana to the hospital. Please, she needs medical attention immediately!” Taylor says and his words don’t register at first. I find myself getting into a defensive posture. But he grapples me from behind and I realize that I start sobbing helplessly as reality sinks in. I struggle in his hold, but the fight is leaving me.

“Don’t fight me Mr. Grey! Ana needs help right now! She needs you! Now! The ambulance will leave without you if you don’t come!”

My wife’s name is my lifeline getting me out my murderous rage. I turn and look at Taylor, my eyes clouded, my face wet with tears mixing with dust and dirt. “Ana?” I ask in a choked voice.

“This way,” Taylor says and he guides me quickly in the direction of one of the ambulances. Two medics are feverishly attending Ana’s motionless body on the gurney as Taylor pushes me in.

“He’s not supposed to be in here!” says one of the medics.

“The hell, I’m not! She’s my wife!” I shout.

“Let him!” I hear the Detective and catch the pity in his eyes.

Anastasia has an oxygen mask on; her arms are hooked to an IV line, and some other fluids. She’s strapped tightly and they’ve already cut the clothes out of her body which are on a small heap on the floor and they covered her modesty with a light blue disposable sheet. Seeing her motionless, bruised, and barely breathing kills me inside. I gently hold her hand, trying hard not to jostle her. Someone closes the door behind us, and sirens blaring, we’re on the move to the hospital.

Broken – Seether and Amy Lee

Yet each man kills the thing he loves

By each let this be heard

Some do it with a bitter look

Some with a flattering word

The coward does it with a kiss

The brave with a sword

Oscar Wilde

TAYLOR

The shades of moods Boss had been in the last two days will cover the color spectrum from end to end. I have seen him in fits of rage, contempt, aggravation, apathetic, bewildered, angry, joyful, jealous, lusty, happy, predatory, and even downright weird and goofy around Ana, but I’ve never seen him in despair. This is a new one for him. He’s never been out of his element, and yet, he was completely preoccupied in Portland. I’m just hoping that he gets us to Seattle in one piece. Right before we leave Portland I notice that I have a missed call from Sawyer.

“That’s strange. I didn’t hear the phone ring. It’s Sawyer,” I say, and Mr. Grey is pure attention. Knowing that he had a fight with Ana yesterday morning, and she hasn't even seen his face since yesterday morning, this could be important. I immediately check the tracker on my phone set for Mrs. Grey’s vehicle. It’s on the move.

“Mrs. Grey’s car is on the move. This is an unscheduled trip,” I mutter. I don’t have to say that twice to make my Boss nervous as if I stuck his hand into a wasp nest. I dial Sawyer immediately without listening to his message.

“T!” he says anxiously.

“Sawyer, why is Mrs. Grey’s vehicle on the move on an unscheduled trip?” I ask accusingly; my tone commanding.

“I wanted to let you know Mrs. Grey is with me. She’s unwell. I’m taking her back to Escala…” he says.

“I see,” I say getting concerned. Mrs. Grey is pregnant and my insecure boss went bat-shit crazy on her couple of nights ago. Hell, I know it’s not easy to be a dad, but damn, when he turns his charm on full blast like that even my knees start shaking and he could try the patience of a saint! But poor sap is crazy over his wife, and that’s his saving grace. He looks at me anxiously. Worry is written all over his face. “Mrs. Grey is unwell, and Sawyer is taking her back to Escala,” I answer his questioning gaze. He tries to gather his composure, and slides back his I’m-in-control persona, and answers:

“Tell him, we’re sitting at the tarmac, but will leave soon. We should be in Seattle in an hour. If she needs a doctor, he should take her there. Otherwise, let her rest. I’ll be home soon.” I really hope that they sort their shit out soon! I feel so uncomfortable being the middle man in their communication like two teenagers who aren't speaking and using their friends as mediaries.

“Yes, sir,” I reply and convey his message to Sawyer. Mr. Grey quickly conducts his flight checks and takes off the airport just as soon as the last word leaves the mouth of the Airport Traffic Controller. He remains tense all through the flight. He’s a stubborn man, and I can see that his pride, ego, and his mulish nature combat against his love and desire he has for her. But, he finally manages to focus on the flight and lands us in one piece in Seattle.

I turn on my Blackberry first thing as soon as we’re on the ground, and my fucking Blackberry rings like the messenger of doomsday. I answer without delay after seeing Sawyer’s name on the Caller ID.

“Sawyer! What’s up?”

“Mrs. Grey tricked me and ran away from Escala!” What the hell did he just say? My blood freezes, and then runs hot immediately, searing me.

“She did what?” I shout in shock. “Where are you?” I ask and his answer comes muffled, breathless. I can’t understand every other word he’s saying because he’s talking in rapid fire.

“Slow down, are you running?”

“I was.”

“Driving?”

“I’m in the SUV, chasing her car in streets of Seattle. Well, tracking more like it. Her vehicle is motionless. She’s parked it somewhere.”

“Where?”

“You won’t believe it! At the bank!”

“What is happening?” Boss asks in his don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me-by-being-evasive mode. I open my mouth to answer Mr. Grey, but he gets a phone call of his own. Without taking the blazing intensity of his eyes away from me he answers. His face changes suddenly to one of shock, betrayal, and utter disbelief.

“She is doing what?” he shouts, then listens to the person on the other line.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what your bank holds, or reserves. Did you just say my wife is there to withdraw five million dollars?” he growls like a wild beast.

“Taylor? Did you hear me? I need your instructions,” Sawyer shouts.

“Repeat the last thing you said!” I order.

“Mrs. Grey’s car is parked at the bank, and I just drove into the bank’s parking lot right now. I suspect that she’s in the back someplace, because I’m not seeing her at any of the desks here.”

From Mr. Grey’s shocked expression, I have a feeling he’s got a call from the bank. This is so unlike Mrs. Grey.

“Sawyer! Remain on her tail. Call Ryan! I have a feeling something big is going down!” Then I get another glimpse of Mr. Grey’s face in a mood I have never seen him in before with this intensity: pure, undiluted anguish unlike the one he had when Ana left him. This look is accompanied by betrayal. Every cell on my body is on full alert telling me that all is not what it seems. I never dismiss my intuition. That’s what made me a great solider. I have to remain in charge to get us through today. It may save more than one life.

“I have to call you back!” I say and hang up on Sawyer and dial Welch.

“Taylor? Where the hell have you guys been? I have been dialing you every other minute in the last hour!”

“I’m here now!” I say and see my unconquerable boss collapse on the tarmac on his knees as if begging his wife, sobbing! Oh, fuck! What the hell did she say to bring this man to his knees, to rip him apart like this in anguish? I’ve seen men put through torture back in the day in the hands of the enemy. But, this shit is a new level in cruel and unusual punishment.

“Welch! Shit’s hitting the fan from every direction, and I have a feeling this is just the beginning!”

“What is going on?”

“Something is happening to or about Mrs. Grey, and I can’t put my finger on it yet. Gather your best man together and track Mrs. Grey’s vehicle and her phone. She’s the key to all of this for now! I have a feeling we will converge at the same point…” I say and I hear another incoming call.

I look at the caller ID. The number belongs to Mr. Grey’s attorney’s firm. What could they want now?

“Welch, the fucking blood suckers are calling! I gotta get this! I repeat: I need you to gather a group of your best men, and track Mrs. Grey! Something happened to her today to make her act bizarre! Check her phone records from today, and for God’s sake hurry the fuck up!” I say, and he says, “wait! You didn’t hear…” he says, but I switch the line.

“What?” I seethe with anger, losing control.

“Taylor… This is Trent Baxter,” one of Mr. Grey’s attorneys says calmly on the phone.

“Baxter, what the hell is going on?” I bark.

“I wanted to inform you and Mr. Grey that Jack Hyde had been granted bail this morning,” and with that declaration, all the blood rushes into my head, and finally something makes sense. Rage to rival my Boss’ spreads over me like poison in bloodstream. I could kill someone with this incompetence! Grey has left Seattle what, about half a day, and everyone manages to fuck everything up royally! I want to make sure that I heard him correctly.

“When?” I ask in a menacing voice.

“Sometime this morning,” he replies evasively, like the fucking lawyer he is. I come to a halt on the tarmac where I’ve been wearing down a trail.

“Let me rephrase my question then. Clearly you do not understand me. What time exactly?” I ask enunciating. He pauses, his voice is lower.

“The bail was granted at 8:00 a.m. but the processing of the papers took over an hour, and he was released around 9:00 a.m. this morning give or take fifteen minutes. But my sources say that it could have been as late as 10:00 a.m.” I check my watch. His report is all over the place. The fucker could have been free for five or six hours! Four hours by the worst accounts. I start pacing again, unable to find anything to hit.

“Why the fuck would you wait to call this long? You fucking charge over a thousand dollars an hour! If Mr. Grey doesn’t fire your ass…” I shout; I’m a cocked pistol, blowup is imminent. But the fucking lawyer tries to interfere.

“But we did call! We tried to call both Mr. Grey’s phone and yours!”

“You did?” I ask to confirm in a mocking voice.

“Yes, hour and a half ago. The phone went to voice mail. Then we called the GEH, and Andrea Parker said that you guys might be in mid-flight.”

“I don’t give a shit! Do you realize that it’s been four hours at least since he was released?”

“Yes, I realize that, but we only learned about it three hours ago. Cut me a little slack!” I'll cut you a slack alright! From here to hell!

“Who did they release him to?”

“We don’t know who provided the bail, or who he went with.”

“Do you have an address?”

“Look Taylor, everything about his release is a mystery. I will go to the courthouse and get the details. All the information we have about his release is vague. Hold on a second…” he says having the gull to put me on hold during the biggest emergency we have!

“My assistant was checking on the address and just uncovered that it was one of those mailbox addresses that appear like a regular physical address. So, we got nothing!” My eyes widen with this man’s inadequacy.

“You fucking bastard!” I shout.

“Calm down Taylor! We’ll sort this out today…” he says coolly. The audacity!

“Stop yapping!” I say with ferocity barely contained by the skin of my teeth, and walk towards my boss who looks like he’s died a thousand deaths within the matter of a few minutes. “Hang on!” I hold the phone to my chest to prevent the hyena from hearing our conversation. Boss says something to the person he’s on the phone with and hangs up. Then he looks at me with red rimmed, swollen, grim eyes. His appearance has all the evidence that he’s been through a hundred wringers, beaten, tortured and his soul ripped out from the roots.

“Ana’s leaving me, Taylor,” he chokes out. And in those four words, I see the man on fire, burning in his own personal hell, tied in the purgatory. My boss has many faults. But one of his biggest faults is that he does not trust enough to the one person he ought to trust. Because a man may be deceived if he trusted a little too much, but he will put himself through torment like Mr. Grey is doing right now if he doesn’t trust enough. He doesn’t trust in his wife’s love for him! Hell, I trust it, why can’t he? He wants to go to the bank to hear it from Ana’s own lips. Hallelujah! No matter what the reason, this is his first sane reaction! But I gotta set my boss straight.

“I put my reputation on the line that she isn’t leaving you! I know caddy bitches…” hell do I know them. I was married to one. I tell him that it’s not Mrs. Grey’s way.

“She’s withdrawing five million dollars. It’s over… I fucked it up,” he says. Oh, God damn it Mr. Grey! What is five million to you? It’s fucking pocket change. Sometimes I just want to knock some fucking sense into his brilliant, but self-deprecating brain! If my ex was with Grey, she’d take the twelve billion he has, and also carve another large portion from his future income he would ever make. Mrs. Grey isn’t a greedy brat. I’ve seen her broken over this man into thousands of irreparable pieces! Gail told me how tormented she was when he upped and left when he heard she was pregnant. Their own damned fault is that they’re both very stubborn and proud to admit their faults. Everyone in the house can see that, why can’t they? I need a fucking vacation once this whole shit settles!

“The hell it’s over, Mr. Grey!” I say determined. He still fucking doesn’t realize that his wife’s life may be in danger. “Run with me to the SUV please,” I say and practically drag him after me. I quickly explain that Hyde is on bail, and his fucking incompetent, exorbitantly expensive attorney is on the phone whose ass I would love to kick to hell, but my only consolation is that I know my boss will be roasting him in the Grey fire momentarily. I would enjoy the attorney’s punishment a lot more had the circumstances been different, but we are on a rescue mission right now. I’ll just recall it at my leisure later on a down day. Can’t let today to be one of them…

I can’t shake the ominous feeling even after Mr. Grey chews the lawyer up. He finally understands that Mrs. Grey is in imminent danger, and hands me my phone and using his own Blackberry when we get to the SUV, and as I put the metal to the pedal, he dials Ana’s number, but I can see the distress on his face when she doesn’t answer. He dials Sawyer’s phone and places the phone on the cradle. Sawyer's answering distressed voice echoes in the SUV's speakers. I’m so fucking glad that we have at least eyes and ears on ground zero. But Sawyer says that Mrs. Grey went back into the bank manager’s office. He says that she might try to evade him again, and knowing her, she will.

“Taylor, ETA?” asks Mr. Grey getting me out of my reveries. When I tell him ten minutes, he relays the time to Sawyer.

 If she is on the run, there’s a reason. Why five million? Why not ten? Why today? Why not wait for a divorce and take him to the cleaners get five billion instead five million since he doesn’t have a pre-nuptial? There are too many red flags in this. I have profiled enemies I have not laid eyes on. Mrs. Grey’s personality is a given. She is madly in love with Christian Grey. Even if she was to break up with him, she wouldn’t use this method knowing how badly it would damage him. No, I’m certain it’s the fucker Hyde threatening her with something. I don’t know what it is yet, but, he will have hell to pay once Mr. Grey catches up to him and I will do everything in my power to let him. We lose Sawyer as I speed through under the bridge. I know that hell is brewing in Mr. Grey’s soul, and I can’t take the tormented edginess in his demeanor. He looks like he’s one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, especially with his tense drumming.

“She ain’t in it for you money, Mr. Grey,” I blurt out, but he needs to hear this from someone who is unbiased. But he manages to have his self-pity take over his good judgment. I try to steer his mind looking into the events objectively. Because if we have to save her life, we are running against the clock and there is no room for his self-deprecation today whatsoever. He finally manages to see the facts from my point of view. Hallelujah!

The ride to the bank is short, and long at the same time because we’re both on edge. The tension runs like red hot wire through us and ready to mow anything that got in our way. Mr. Grey runs out of the SUV before I can put the vehicle into park. I ran after him barely closing my door. I immediately know that Mrs. Grey is gone from Sawyer’s fighting stance against the bank manager who is threatening to remove him with the security. Fuck this shit! How many things can go wrong today?

Mr. Grey’s in control once again and his don’t-you-dare-to-fuck-with-me demeanor is a welcome sight both by me and Sawyer. After setting the bank manager straight, he informs us that a woman named Elisabeth came to pick Mrs. Grey up with a black Dodge SUV. The only Elisabeth who knows both Mrs. Grey and the asshole Hyde is Elisabeth Morgan from SIP. Welch’s research didn’t catch that connection. Apparently Mrs. Grey wasn’t expecting to see her. I know that Mr. Grey is finally on the same page with me. Thank fuck!

I order the bank manager to call the cops as we run out of the bank to track Mrs. Grey’s phone. The bank manager remembers some more crucial in information about Mrs. Grey's visit which makes me feel certain that we are dealing extortion and kidnapping.

“Sawyer! Call Welch! Have him track Mrs. G’s cell phone and have him meet us there with the fucking Calvary, like yesterday!” I shout with urgency.

I put my Blackberry on the cradle to follow the red dot on the map indicating Mrs. G’s location. As long as she’s the dot that’s moving, there’s less of a change that she’s being harmed. The dot moves towards the coastal road around the old industrial quarters which are abandoned and mostly occupied by vagrants and druggies. I know Mrs. G wouldn’t be going to that side of town by her own choice.

“Let’s move fucking faster, Taylor!” shouts Mr. Grey, and even that tone is welcome. I break enough traffic laws to be permanently lose my driver’s license, and I’m quite surprised that I don’t see any police cars following us other than Sawyer behind us breaking just as many laws as I am. When the red dot stops on the map, the silence in the vehicle is thick, suffocating. I can see Mr. Grey’s breathing become heavy. He’s unable to sit still in his seat. If the man could grow wings, he would have flown the coop already.

“ETA is two minutes!” I say giving him a heads up. I keep my gaze on the road, and as I reach the dilapidated warehouses, but I don’t slow down. I hear other vehicles and distant sirens finally. A single gunshot is heard on the road ahead and it’s as if it hit Mr. Grey in the heart. The tormented anguish is spreading through him like the bubonic plague. I don’t ever want to see my boss this broken again. The SUV I’m driving is the first one to reach the crime scene. I hit the brake as I get close to Mrs. Grey on the ground, and for the first time we realize that it is her who fired the shot, but only managed to injure the fucking bastard!

“Anaaa!” screams Mr. Grey in a grief stricken unrecognizable voice I wish never to hear again. He shoots out like an arrow from his seat and runs to his wife, sinking onto the ground to pick her up in an intimately despondent way, holding her close to his chest, rocking back and forth. I jump out of the still running vehicle only a few seconds after Mr. Grey with my weapon cocked and aimed. Sawyer‘s SUV is the next one to screech halt within a few second after us, and he runs out in our direction also with his gun drawn. As I run near Mrs. Grey, I can see that she’s beaten and roughed up and unconscious. God damn it, Mrs. Grey! Why wouldn't you ask for help? A revolver is lying beside her hand on the concrete ground. 

“God damn it to hell!” I shout my exasperation. I take my Blackberry out as I run. I press the three numbers.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“We need an ambulance or more right now!” I shout and briefly explain the kidnapping and give her the location.

Then I hear Mr. Grey’s agonized voice again, “ANAAA!” like a wounded predator. Is she dying?

"Hurry the hell up, please!" I shout at the operator.

My eyes darken in anger and shift the focus of my attention on Elizabeth Morgan who is holding her hands up in the air and shouting her apologies.

“Fucking too late! Have a nice time in being someone’s bitch in jail!” I shout as I forcefully cuff her hands. Then I hear my name as if a child calls a parent with need, trust, and desperation. “Taylor!” I straighten up to get to Mr. Grey but his voice comes even more forceful.

“Tayloooor!” I am next to him in three seconds. “Hold my girl!” he says, trusting Mrs. Grey’s wounded body into my arms. I hold her with my heart breaking. My fucking nose burns, and some tears pool up behind my eyes which I push back. I fixate my gaze on the writhing body of Hyde on the floor who is screaming like a howler monkey. That stops the tears in their tracks. Sawyer is pointing his gun at him, and I hear more screeching cars. When Hyde sees Mr. Grey with nothing but murder in his eyes, the fucker stands up and starts skipping like a kangaroo as he’s holding his bloodied leg trying to run away. Mr. Grey speeds up, and for a moment I think he’s flying, because his feet are off the ground, and when he lands again, he’s on top of Hyde and they’re tumbling on the ground. The fight begins. Welch and his men are already on the ground stealthily dressed like the former Black-ops they are and scanning the buildings and the vicinity with their guns drawn checking if there’s any additional threat. Sawyer joins them. Not two minutes later he rushes out with someone in his arms.

“Mr. Grey! Your sister is here!” he shouts, and that breaks something else in Mr. Grey and he becomes a relentless machine delivering methodical blows on to Hyde.

Two ambulances and police vehicles finally arrive, and they bring out a gurney to secure Mrs. Grey on as her husband fights her assailant.

“Hold your hands up!” the cops shout not knowing who the victim is. Among the group of police officers, Detective Clark is there as well. When Mr. Grey head butts Hyde and continues to methodically and repeatedly punch him, the cops who have not been able to keep Hyde off the streets try to wrestle Mr. Grey off of his wife’s and sister’s kidnapper. It takes a football team of them to break his hold of Hyde who is by now barely holding onto his life. They pull Hyde away so the medics can tend him while trying to restrain Mr. Grey. But he manages to keep his focus on Hyde like a heat seeking missile and fights off the officers who are trying to hold him down. Within less than two minutes, he floors and subdues three of the cops. Other officers start drawing their guns. Detective Clark shouts his warning.

“It’s enough Grey! You’ll kill him...” but Mr. Grey is very close to the gurney where the medics are treating Hyde’s injuries and he wants to get to him. Clark urges him to go to Mrs. Grey, but Mr. Grey has completely lost himself in his fury and grief and fights off two more cops to open his path to Hyde.

There’s a lot of commotion and Clark isn’t capable of keeping the lid on his own fucking officers! One of the younger cops with an itchy trigger finger shouts:

“Hands up or we’ll shoot!”

Welch and his men are already stealthily surrounding the group of cops who are aiming their weapons at Mr. Grey. I have had enough of this shit sent to this man’s way today. It’ll be a cold day in hell if I let anyone shoot at him!

“Detective, get your men to stand down! Keep them away from Grey! He’s distraught. Cut him some slack! I’ll take him!”

Clark shouts some shit at me saying this is his jurisdiction and Grey can’t take the law into his own hands! It’s not like the detective and the cops did a great job protecting the man’s wife and sister! He should be the one to talk!

I point out the weapons directed at them, and if they don’t stand down, and fire a single shot directed at Grey, I will order to shoot! I will remove my boss from the ground if they leave him alone.

Finally Clark is smart enough to give the order to stand down. His ass and the rest of the cops’ asses would be on the line had they shot Grey after his wife was beaten nearly to death and his sister’s condition is completely unknown!

I approach Mr. Grey slowly, without making him feel like he’s cornered. His eyes are wild, glazed and he’s not himself. I hold my hands up to get to him. I’m his only friend here. It’s my job to protect him.

“Mr. Grey! They’re taking Ana to the hospital,” coax him softly. Ana’s name brings him to the surface from whichever hell he’s been to. Please, she needs medical attention immediately!” I say letting him feel the urgency in my tone, but also let him know that she’s alive. He’s still crouched in a defensive posture, and I seize him in my grip from behind. He struggles in my hold, but the fight in him is gone, and he starts sobbing.

“Don’t fight me Mr. Grey!” I soothe him. “Ana needs you…” and I soothe and coax him to the ambulance where his wife is getting the first medical help, and though one of the medics protest, Clark finally comes to his senses and tells them that it’s okay. I close the door behind him and slap the door twice letting the driver know he’s good to go to the hospital. I nod at Welch and once the ambulance is out of sight, they lower their weapons.

“You were gonna shoot cops?” asks Clark incredulous.

“Let’s put it this way. I wasn’t going to let your officers to shoot an innocent man who died a thousand deaths today with his wife’s kidnapping, beating, and we don’t know if she’s going to make through the day not to mention his sister! Put your fucking priorities straight, Detective! While upholding the law with your high ideals, you managed to allow that fucker…” I say pointing at Hyde, “to nearly kill off a man’s family. Grey’s wife is pregnant! Hyde made her lie to her husband making him believe she was leaving him so Grey wouldn’t follow her. Made her withdraw five fucking million dollars to pay for the ransom for his sister! Christian Grey has had more shit to deal with today than you could ever deal with, in your lifetime. Put yourself in his place, then speak. Hyde clearly used Mr. Grey’s sister as a bait to lure Mrs. Grey! Do you really want fuck a man like Grey and get him to be your enemy for allowing this to happen? I suggest that you and your crew clean this shit up and make sure that those scumbags never see the light of day!”

“Welch, secure everything, and have your men escort Miss Grey’s ambulance. Sawyer’s already left after Mrs. Grey’s ambulance.” I say.

“This is my crime scene!” barks Detective Clark.

“Good luck with that,” I say to Welch and walk to the SUV to drive to the hospital.

The first thing I do is to call Mr. Grey on the phone.

“This is Carrick Grey,” he answers the phone.

“Mr. Grey, this is Taylor. There’s been an incident sir, and I suggest you and your wife go to the hospital immediately.”

“What?” he asks shocked and worried. I hear the leather of his chair squeak as he abruptly stands up. “Is it Christian?”

“No. It’s Miss Mia. I’m assuming you relented on her security, and she was kidnapped by none other than Jack Hyde and by the looks of it he drugged your daughter and used her as a bait to lure Mrs. Grey for a ransom. So she in return told your son she was leaving him, withdrew five million dollars to save Miss Mia. And now she’s beaten half to death, fighting for her life!” I shout. I hear an agonized gasp on the phone, but I am on a roll. Had he not consented for Miss Mia to leave without her security detail, this wouldn’t have happened today.

“How are they?” he asks in a choked voice.

“I don’t know sir. Mrs. Grey is beaten up, bruised, and unconscious. Her life might be in danger. Your son,” I say enunciating, “is going out of his mind. He nearly lost the only person he ever loved. He can use a parent right about now,” I say speaking way out of turn, and I want to be even more out of turn telling him not to have any of that highhanded ‘I’ll give you the distance you want, shit’ because I too have reached my limit but I hold my tongue. I just want to find Gail and hold her as long as I can the first chance I get.

“Mr. Grey really needs someone who can show him that they love and care for him, sir,” I say.

“Which hospital Taylor?”

“Northwest Hospital in Seattle. I’ll see you there sir. I’m going there myself, now.”

“Taylor! Thank you for looking after my son!” he thanks me in a grief stricken voice.

“Yeah…” I say and put the SUV in gear.

“…you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - what right had you to leave me? What right - answer me - Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! would you like to lie with your soul in the grave?”

Emily Brontë

BABY, WAKE UP

My wife lies motionless, her fingertips cool. The only indication I have of her being alive is the steady beep from the heart monitor. The ambulance blares through the city and find its way to the hospital.

“I need you baby! I want you to fight…for you, for me, for our baby,” I whisper. “Please Ana,” I beg, and my lips tremble with a choking sob. “Wake up baby… I can’t live without you. Why didn’t you come to me? Why Ana?” I agonize. “I love so much, baby… I need you,” I utter my love for her in a low voice.

I Want Love – Elton John

“What injuries does she have?” I ask as I violently rub the streaming tears away from my face with my fisted hands. My teeth clenched, my body is rigid, and I have never felt this helpless. Not in a very very…very long time. Not since I was four.

“We’re just trying to stabilize the patient, sir. The ER doctors will inform you just as soon as they’re done evaluating her condition!” one of the medics say and continue strapping my wife, and putting on various needles and lines into her delicate arms.

Several long minutes later, the ambulance arrives at the hospital and there’s another flurry of movements as number of nurses and doctors rushing to take her in.

“Talk to me!” says a female doctor to the medics.

“Level II trauma. Suspected facial or cranial fractures with no airway compromise. We have not determined if there’s any internal bleeding. Husband said that the patient is pregnant. Doesn't have cardiac injuries, but possible broken ribs. Didn't have time to check the pelvic injuries, but  she has extensive bruising. No arterial bleeding or spinal cord injury. Extremities might have multiple fractures. No penetrating trauma, but has head injuries, and she must be checked for cerebral hemorrhage. She's been unresponsive...” he continues as I run after them, but they shut the door and effectively keep me out of the Trauma center where they are examining her.

“She’s MY WIFE!” I shout as I struggle with the security to enter into the room.

“And we’ll do everything to stabilize her, and keep her alive, sir. You won’t be helping us if you are in the room. Let the doctors do their jobs!”

“She needs me!” I agonize.

“She needs the medical attention more!” says an older nurse approaching me. “I know this very is difficult for you. But you will be helping her if you just let the doctors do their job. They will come out and inform you of her condition just as soon as they stabilize her. Please, sit down, sir…” she says, trying to lead me away from the door.

“I got him!” says a familiar firm voice.

“Come on Mr. Grey. She’ll be alright. We saved her. We saved Mia, too.”

“Oh, Mia! Where’s Mia?” I ask absently. The medics counted several injuries Ana sustained and I'm worried to death.

“They took her here as well. I’m sure she’s in one of these rooms. We’ll find out soon enough. How about we fill out the paperwork while we are waiting for the ER doctors to come to talk to you?” he coaxes me.

“Christian!” cries out a distressed woman’s voice. I look up, and my mom and dad both barrel down the emergency room and they both take me into their tight embrace.

“What happened?” she asks in sobs.

My dad looks at her admonishingly and shakes his head. “How’s Ana, and where’s Mia?”

“We just got here mom, and I’m not allowed to be in there with my wife!” I utter in a monotonous voice as shock is finally taking over my body and emotions, shutting me down.

“I have to find my daughter!” my mother sobs getting up. I vaguely notice that she has her white doctor’s coat on.

“Nurse!” she calls one of the admitting nurses.

“Yes, Dr. Grey?” she answers.

“I need to find a patient. Mia Grey,” she says her voice cracking with my sister’s name. My dad goes to her and holds her in his arms.

“She’s been admitted a short while ago, doctor. She’s was administered large doses of Rohypnol, and some tranquilizer which we have not been able to determine yet,” the nurse says looking at her tablet. She leads them towards the desk to give them more information.

“Mr. Grey?” Taylor says softly. “Let’s finish the paperwork, sir,” he says bent out of shape to keep me, to keep my mind occupied.

I can’t keep my mind on the documents. Taylor starts filling them.

“Mr. Grey, does Mrs. Grey have any known allergies?” he asks.

“Huh?” I ask not comprehending.

“Does Mrs. Grey have allergies?” he repeats.

“No... No she doesn’t.”

For the next half hour, Taylor keeps me engaged, and make every possible effort to keep my mind out of the trauma room.

When a doctor finally comes out of the trauma room, I stand up and meet her.

“Anastasia Grey?” I ask.

“Are you next of kin, sir?”

“I’m her husband, Christian Grey,” I say, and she smiles.

“We’ve stabilized Mrs. Grey, and she’s being taken into a private room. You may go and stay with her, sir. In fact I’ll take you to her,” she says, and I follow her on her wake. Taylor closely and protectively follows behind.

I enter into a large room similar to Ray’s current room. She’s hooked on various apparatus, and lines.

“What are her injuries Doctor?”

“Bartley. I’m Doctor Bartley. Mrs. Grey’s ribs are bruised, Mr. Grey and she has a hairline fracture to her skull,” she says and I gasp. “But her vital signs are stable and strong,” she adds in response to my reaction. I’m not convinced.

“Why is she still unconscious, then?” I ask.

“Mrs. Grey has had a major contusion to her head. But her brain activity is normal, and she has no cerebral swelling. She’ll wake up when she’s ready. Just give her some time,” she reassures me. Hearing Anastasia will be okay, gives me a degree of hope. But I won’t be okay if she lost our baby. Because I know she won’t be okay. She wanted junior. She wanted our baby. My baby.

“And the baby?” I ask anguished, distraught.

“The baby’s fine, Mr. Grey,” she replies and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Oh, thank God!” I praise, relieved. “Oh, thank God…”

My family is intact. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I have my family, my wife, my baby. Nothing else matters… Nothing…

Nothing Else Matters - Metallica