Christian is asleep, sitting beside me and leaning on my bed with his head on his folded arms. I reach out, grateful once more that my body responds, and run my fingers through his soft hair. He startles awake, raising his head so suddenly that my hand falls weakly back onto the bed.

"Hi." I croak.

"Oh, Ana." His voice is chocked and relieved. He grasps my hand, squeezing it tightly and holding it up against his rough, stubbled cheek.

I roused to her hand on my hand, lightly brushing my scalp with her fingers. It took me only a moment's time to open my eyes and look up at her. I grabbed her hand in my own and pressed it against my cheek, feeling sorry for having made such sudden movement that it fell with a gentle thud to the bed. I pressed a kiss against her palm and then closed it, sealing the kiss there and taking in the scent of her hand. She smelt mostly of hospital, but her one, sweet fragrance was still there- barely- and lingering just as she was. My eyes were wide open as I stared at her, and my body was frozen as I awaited her next words.

"Christian." She pressed out once more, and upon the hearing of my name fall from her lips, I rested my head on the side of her hip and left a feather-light kiss there, against the hospital gown.

"I've never been so happy to hear my name." I whispered weakly, looking up to watch her reaction.

The softest of smiles graced her lips and my heart soared at the possibility that I could be the one causing her smile; it seeped with joy at the fact that it was, indeed me, that had made her smile.

"You're beautiful."

The words fell from my lips without my regard and I surveyed her kindly once more, my eyes still grey and cool, appraising her and beckoning her to respond. I could not suppress every dominant emotion inside of me, and she knew this. Her eyes told everything that I didn't need to hear, and I continued to stare at her momentarily as it dawned on me that she didn't hear those two words nearly as much as she should.

Beautiful.

When did I truly tell her?

Pushing back my thoughts of being a pathetic excuse of a husband and lover once more, I placed another kiss on her hand, this time on the back of it, and locked it in with a quick rub of my thumb over the spot I had caressed.

"You're finally awake," I spoke as softly as possible, keeping my voice down and leaning over her more to block out the dim lighting that was on above her bed. "Your father will be ecstatic."

"And yourself, Christian?" She asked lazily, surveying my eyes.

"I'm more than ecstatic," I mumbled, my smoldering gaze falling a bit gentler as I watched her gorgeous orbs appraise me lovingly. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for nearly two days."

The desperation in my voice is more than I wished to show; more than I want her to hear. I am still in control; she should feel as though this whole time I have been in control, but she doesn't. She knows, I am sure, that I have been falling apart, and I cannot blame the small semblance of a smile that plays across her lips at this recognition.

"You have missed me," she agrees. "But why?"

"For a variety of reasons." I slurred a bit suggestively before retreating back into the mode of caring for her, and not lusting after her.

"I've missed you too." She hardly presses out before closing her eyes once more and squeezing my hand into a firmer grasp.

"I'll take you home soon," I find myself promising her. "You'll come home to so much more than this hospital, I promise. You'll have more care."

"More?" She says slowly, tasting the word as she does every time I say it. Her eyes open and shine with adoration. "You do mean it, don't you?"

I am not sure if she is asking this as a question or merely stating that she finally understands that it is true. Either way, I decide upon nodding mutely and kissing her hand once more.

Her face suddenly falls, and for a moment I feel as though my heart has stopped. Is she in pain? Is she angry? But no, she makes no moves to flinch, and her eyes do not display the hurt that she has worn so prominently before because of me. It is soothing, but I still wonder what is wrong. I stare at her intently, urging her to tell me what is grieving her, and soon she smiles slightly and visibly relaxes- tries to, anyway.

"Is the baby okay?"

The words are not what I was expecting, and they take me aback momentarily before I recover and nod solemnly, sprawling my fingers over her stomach.

"The baby is perfectly fine." I spoke quietly, staring at her firm and flat stomach.

"Why the look then?" She contested with furrowed brows, attempting to prop herself higher against her pillows.

"Because losing you or this child," I stood and ended her struggle by helping to hold her up and prop her pillows behind her. "Would have physically and emotionally killed me, Ana."

She stared up at me with shinning eyes, her smile pure an genuine as she reached out a weak hand to grab my shirtfront.

"I love you, Christian." She mumbled against my lips when I bent down to place mine against hers.

"And I you, Ana."

Our lips met momentarily and electric sparked deep inside of me as I entangled a gentle hand in the back of her hair, pulling her closer to me for a few moments before pulling away, my breathing slightly affected and my cheeks a bit more flush than normal.

"I wouldn't want to fluster you, of all people, Mr. Grey." She joked as she rested her tired head against the pillows once more.

With a shake of my head, I sat back down next to her and stowed my hands in my pocket.

"You would never fluster me, Anastasia, but I will do my best not to inconvenience you while you are unable to act on your impulses."

With a slight blush, she closed her eyes and turned her head away from me, and it was then that I once more dropped my Dominant-stance and reached out a loving hand to her.