twispitefic

Title: Quintessence
Author: Melissa Treglia (gnosticdiva)
Fandom: 50 Shades Trilogy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 864
Inspiration: Within Temptation's short film "Triplets" (which ties in with both their single "Shot In The Dark" and their comic book The Unforgiving). This fic is the second of a non-serial trilogy of stories I've been writing to tackle Anastasia Steele's multiple personalities.
Warning: Major character death, some mild language and disturbing canon themes. The ending is rather dark, so those of you who want a HEA will want to look elsewhere.

Summary: Five minds, one plan. Heaven help Christian Grey.

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Five identical young women sat in a quiet room overlooking the Sound. One was wearing glasses and seated at the desk, scribbling notes in a wire-bound notebook. One was sprawled across the seat of the bay window, a book on domestic violence in hand, the frown on her face deepening as she flipped through the pages.

One was simply staring up at the ceiling as she lay in bed; she was counting the pockmarks on the ceiling, but had lost count and had to start all over again. A fourth was practicing bellydancing moves, despite the lack of any music to keep her rhythm. A fifth girl shoulder-checked the dancer while pacing.

The dancer fell on her backside and pouted at the girl who'd so rudely bumped into her. "Quinn! That wasn't nice!"

"I'm not a nice girl, Steffi," Quinn snarled. "You should know that by now. Either get over it, or get out of my way."

The girl on the bed whimpered. "Could you guys please not fight? It makes my head hurt."

The girl with the glasses tapped the eraser of her pencil against the notebook, and gave the girl on the bed a sardonic look. "Yes, because ignoring things always makes them go away, Ana."

The girl at the bay window snapped her book shut and rose from the bay window cushion. "Dora's right. We can't ignore this anymore. We have to do something about the Grey situation."

"Well, I like him, Stacy!" Steffi declared, before she began to spin herself around. When she got dizzy and plopped on her backside, she added, "He makes me feel all tingly." Then she giggled.

Dora, the girl with the glasses, snorted. "Anything with a penis could make you feel tingly."

Stacy, book still in hand, sighed. "Your sarcasm isn't helping matters, Dora." She then sniffed, crossing her arms protectively with the book cradled in her embrace. "I don't like him. He's a jerk, he's a rapist, and nothing he does or says will ever be okay."

"He scares me," Ana whispered, curling into the fetal position on her bed.

Dora rolled her eyes. "Shut up, whimp."

Steffi balked, her expression one of deep offense. "Don't talk to her like that!"

Dora snorted. "Great, now Whimp #2's crying."

Quinn snarled and began to pace. "I'm sick of all this talking! If we're gonna do something, we should do it, goddamnit!" She pivoted and paced in the opposite direction. "Hell, let me do it! Anything's better than just sitting here talking!"

"Well, if we're going to do something, we have to discuss it first," Stacy replied. "I've got a few ideas, girls, and I want to know what you think."

It had taken more talking--which irritated Quinn to no end--but the quintuplets had eventually come up with a plan, and then made the appropriate preparations. But the final piece of their plot would depend on Ana's cooperation.

"Why do I have to do it?" Ana whispered, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks.

"You know why," Stacy replied evenly. "You have to do this. It's the only way."

Dora sneered. "She's a chicken. She'll never do it. She'll whimp out and then we'll be back at square one."

Steffi frowned. "I don't see why we have to do this in the first place. I like Christian. I don't see why we have to get rid of him."

"You don't see anything past your vagina," Dora sneered.

"Come on! Let me at him!" Quinn shouted. "I'll kill him, and then we could all rest easy!"

Steffi's eyes widened. "But we could go to jail if we kill him! I don't want to go to jail!"

Dora smirked. "Just remember not to drop the soap."

"That's enough!" Stacy barked in command. Someone needed to keep the others in line and on-task, and only Stacy seemed to possess the wherewithal to accomplish such a monumental chore. Even so, the other girls tested the limits of her patience; it was a lot like herding cats.

Ana held her head in her hands and whimpered. It hurt so much to think...

"Come on, Ana." Stacy's voice had become softer and more tender, entreating her. "You can do this. I know you can. It'll be quick, and then he'll never hurt us again. I promise."

Ana took a deep, fortifying breath and finally nodded in agreement. She could do this. She had to do this.

"Ok," Ana said. "I'm ready."

When Christian slipped into her bed, Ana was alone and she was ready. Her back was turned to him, as his arm snaked around her waist. He didn't see the hand grenade she'd snuck out of his weapons room (the man actually had more weapons than the average terrorist organization). Nor did he see her pull the key out of the grenade as she rolled over to face him, grenade clutched to her chest.

There was a loud roar and a bright light. Then, there was nothing but the peace of darkness and silence. The voices would no longer hurt her head and tell her to do things.

And Christian would never hurt her--or anyone else--ever again.

*Fin*

Author's Note: