FSOG characters belong to E L James. At the start of this story Ana and Christian are in the same circumstances as in DCOliver's Never Look Back (Ana and Christian split up at the same point in their lives, Ana takes Teddy and disappears and at the time the story starts Ana and CG have the same family structure). How they got there and how they will find their way back to each other are the product of my imagination. Hope you will enjoy the ride.

Have you ever experienced a true summer storm? Imagine a glorious summer day when the sun is shining bright in the deep blue sky, all the colours more vivid, and the air slightly shimmering with the heat. Then a wisp of wind caresses your skin and the cool touch raises goose bumps. It quickly fades, it's warning gone unheeded. Later in the day, when thunder roars and rain drops fall in a thick veil, do you still remember that soft breeze?

Ch 1 The wind of change

On a gloriously sunny day in the last week of April, Anabelle Parson walked out of the local Bi-LO, her small frame almost disappearing behind the two over filled grocery bags. They'll only be three for dinner tonight: herself, Dan, her husband and Emma, their daughter. But since their boys had been home over the weekend, her pantry needed some serious restocking. Nick was an IT engineer working in Charleston and Eddy was in his final year at the University of South Carolina. And Eddy had had news to share with his family: he had been accepted at Harvard for his law degree! With his usual shyness about his achievements, he had admitted he had known for a couple of weeks but waited until he was sure that the grants and two scholarships were approved and will be enough to cover tuition and expenses. Her pride and joy at her son's achievements marred by the regret that his father couldn't share them, Anabelle had hid her melancholy behind a smile.

Theirs was a mixed family. Nick's mother, just like Dan, had been a cop and died in the line of duty. Once a year they all went to her grave, to lay flowers and tell her what had happened during the year. And if Anabelle harboured any ill feelings, they weren't for the woman lying in the ground or for the grief Dan still carried for her loss. The powerless anger and the pain were for the love she had lost and for the man who had, in the end, succumbed to his own demons. The path he had chosen was not one where she could follow. He knew that, and had cut her and their son out of his life. Despite a vague idea that letting them go was one last selfless act of love, the man he had become wasn't someone whose actions she could predict. Heartbroken and insecure she had embarked on a road trip that had eventually led to Rock Hill, South Carolina.

On Eddy's first birthday away from his father, her mother and her best friend called. No one else did. A corner of her mind whispered that her phone was now lying at the bottom of a river somewhere in South Dakota. The rest argued that they had known where she was before and never called, that they could always send an email, and above all that if he wanted to know where they were, he had the means to do that. The final blow came two weeks later, when Kate, her best friend, came to visit and brought news from back home: he had remarried and his wife was heavily pregnant. That was the last time she had ever said his name and the last she had heard of him. Kate would visit every year, always on Eddy's birthday, bringing with her a breeze from the outside world, except for the taboo subject of Eddy's father. And Anabelle made her stand right where she was, in a town big enough that a young woman travelling with her father and a two year old wouldn't raise eyebrows, small enough that the world didn't bother much with it. They became Anabelle and Edward, Belle and Eddy for those close to them.

Her love of books led her to work in one of the two local libraries and that's where she met Dan. He had brought his son to an evening of reading Christmas stories, but far from enjoying himself, the five year old cut a lonely and sad figure among the other children. When he just shook his head at the cookie Belle offered and walked away, Dan apologized. "I think is seeing all the children with their moms. Jane, his mother, passed away earlier this year." Her heart going to the boy, Belle shared that they too were on their own and invited father and son to spend the holidays with them. The Fourth of July celebrations found her and Dan sharing a blanket and picnic basket, watching the rather tame fireworks display and enjoying the music and dance at the Lake Pavillion. Over the course of playdates for their children they had grown to know each other well. Their barriers lowered by alcohol, both yearning for comfort, their lips had met before their brains could interfere. In a moment of rebellion against the unfairness of a universe that had left them both broken and hurting, Anabelle placed a kiss on his cheek and his arm around her waist. She needed this. She needed the comfort and the protection he offered and she was too tired and lonely to wonder what that said about her.

Their casual acquaintance became a tentative relationship. Reassured that both were content to settle for the soft glow of companionship, they moved together three months later. Her pregnancy wasn't planned, but when it happened they took the next step and were married on the anniversary of their first meeting. Anabelle became a mother to Nick, and Dan a father to Eddy. Emma, their daughter, was born a month early after a difficult pregnancy, but both child and mother were eventually sent home with a clean bill of health. As the years went by only two major events marred their peaceful existence. A storm had wreaked havoc through the town leaving many houses and official buildings with severe damage. Their house was among those badly hit and between the insurance trying to get out of paying and the bank declining a loan, they were lucky that a charity had stepped in and helped with the repairs. Two years later Emma was hit by a car and they had had to prepare themselves for the prospect of her losing her right leg below the knee. But the antibiotics worked and through a still experimental procedure they were given hope that she won't even have a limp.

The ghosts of their pasts rarely intruded on their lives. The door she had closed all those years ago remained firmly shut, the clamour of memories reduced to a whisper, the sharp pain of her loss a dull ache surfacing once a year at Jane's grave, occasionally in her dreams, and perhaps on special occasions, such as yesterday in the kitchen of her family home. The key to her sanity was to just let it pass, let it glide over her like a cool breeze on a warm sunny day and push past the cold shiver to get on with her life.

With measured steps, she carefully made her way to her car, keeping her eyes on the tiny slice of pavement she could still see between the grocery bags. As she awkwardly leaned one bag against the booth while rummaging through her purse for the car keys, Belle hardly paid any attention to the person getting out of the car parked next to hers. Not until a pair of well-polished black shoes entered her field of vision and whomever they belonged to came to a standstill next to her did she bother to investigate. She had perhaps half a second to take in the dark gray suit, well cut from some high quality material, paired with a snow white shirt and navy tie, before her gaze reached his face and she froze in stunned recognition.

"Mrs Parson."

Her name, coming from this man, felt eerie. Afraid that she was losing her mind, terrified that she didn't, she shook her head. "You can't be here."

As the bags started gliding from her slackened arms and her weakened knees bent, the man caught her with one arm around her waist. "I'm sorry. I realize this must be a shock. I could not think of any other way to approach you yet keep this meeting private."

She could offer no resistance when he gently freed the remaining grocery bag and placed it on the ground. He was saying something, but all she could do was shake her head. This could not be happening!

"Mrs Parson" the man repeated, "you should sit down", he steered her towards the passenger side of her car, opened the door and helped her into the well-worn seat. He then handed her back the car keys and crouched down to bring his face level with her eyes. "I'm sorry I startled you."

Wide with worry, her eyes darted from his face to his body, then to the parking lot surrounding them, and back again, as she was desperately trying to make sense of his words and of his presence in front of her. Compassion and concern were obvious on the man's face and she appealed to those feelings when she pleaded: "Please, Luke. Please turn around and walk away."

"I think we both know that I can't do that," he replied in a sad, quiet tone.

Her voice now barely above a whisper she begged: "He doesn't have to know."

"He knows. He has known for some time. He won't interfere. This is why I am here: to reassure you that he won't interfere. I have a letter for you," he added. "When you have read it, if you have any questions I will do my best to answer them."

"He sent you across the country to give me a letter?"

Relieved that she seemed to be regaining some of her composure, Luke answered with just a hint of embarrassment: "As the previous ones were returned unopened, he thought it best I hand delivered this one and remain available should you have any questions."

His words not making much more sense than his presence, she again shook her head: "I never received any letters from him."

Luke hesitated. Perhaps she had forgotten. "If you give me a second I have the letter in the car," he said. Rising from his crouching position he reached into his car to retrieve a leather manila folder and a white envelope.

"What letters?" she asked.

Luke Sawyer took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I'm not sure what happened with the other letters. It was a long time ago. Will you take this one? Take some time to read it. When you do, if you have questions, or an answer, I will be at the TownePlace for the next three days."

She knew this tactic. She had been there before, when one of them would be dodging her questions. She looked at the objects in his hand. Knowing where they came from, she couldn't bring herself to touch them. With a slight movement of her head she indicated the glove compartment.

"Would you please allow me to drive you home? Or would you like to call somebody to take you?" Luke asked once the objects were stored in the small storage space.

Dan was at work and she had no idea what and how she would tell him about this meeting. And Sawyer was right; she was in no state to drive. The fingers wrapped around her car keys relaxed until the shiny metal was resting against her open palm. As the man who had driven her around so many times before sat in the seat beside her and started the engine, it didn't cross her mind that he might need directions to her house. Resigned, she leaned her head against the headrest, while he expertly manoeuvred the Chevrolet out of the parking lot. "How did you find us?" curiosity got the best out of her.

Sawyer shook his head: "I don't know. Everything I tried ended in a dead end. When I had gone over every possibility twice and not made an inch of progress, I… gave up. I resigned and left Seattle for a few years. By the time I returned he had already obtained the information."

Frowning, she turned to look at his face, "How long have you been back in Seattle?"

Luke was trying to figure out just how to deliver the information, when she asked a different question "Once you have taken me home, how will you get back to your car?"

"Someone will pick me up. I'll have to call them."

"Then can you please stop the car? I'm sure you have better things to do than to dodge my questions."

Sawyer checked his mirror, signalled and pulled to the side of the road. "I'm only trying to protect your peace of mind." At the look of stubborn determination on her face he quickly added: "I know you have heard this before, and I often thought it was wrong to keep things from you, but this is one of the few times when I really think you will be better off not knowing."

She looked at him and tried to read the expression on his face. For a moment she lost herself looking at the fine wrinkles marring the skin she remembered as toned and smooth. His hair was liberally sprinkled with white and the intensity of the gaze she remembered from their shared past had mellowed somewhat. Despite the changes brought by the passage of time, this was her CPO, the man charged with keeping her safe. She did not doubt that he was sincere, but neither could she relent when her current life was under attack from her past. Slowly, deliberately, she repeated her question: "How long have you been back in Seattle?"

"Eleven years."

Some powerful emotion was trying to break through her mental barriers. Not nearly ready to acknowledge this new onslaught on her feelings, she hung to whatever logic she could muster: "He has known where we are for more than eleven years!? How much longer?"

She expected Sawyer to once again dodge her question, but when his shoulders stooped, his head bent forward and his eyelids closed for a second, she knew she was going to get an answer. Her heart started hammering against her chest and she forgot to breathe. She could see his lips move, but the words took a couple of heartbeats to register: "There are pictures in his office. Teddy looks about five years old."

"Pictures? What kind of pictures?"

"Birthdays, Fourth of July, New Year's Eve, some school plays and sport events…"

Barely able to speak she whispered: "He has people taking pictures of Eddy?"

"No, no. I'm certain he takes them himself."

"He comes to Rock Hill and takes pictures of Eddy?"

When Sawyer only nodded she blindly reached behind her to open the car door then stumbled out. "Pictures. He has pictures. Of course the stalking control freak would have pictures." Hands on her hips, blue eyes blazing, the curls of her short brown hair in disarray, she whirled to face Sawyer who had also hurriedly exited the car. Raising her voice, perhaps at him, perhaps at some far away deity, she shouted, "He cut us off! He signed off on us! He never tried to see his son or talk to him or be near him! But he has pictures in his office?"

First the question about the letters and now her rant cemented Sawyer's suspicion that one of them was missing some crucial piece of information. Increasingly unsettled, he carefully chose his words: "The first time I entered his office after my return, I couldn't hide my surprise at seeing the pictures. He noticed and informed me that unless I became aware of a security threat 'This subject is off the table'."

That she could accept. She knew only too well the determination of the man Sawyer had quoted and the finality of his decisions. She lowered herself to the grass at the side of the road and sat down, a shiver shaking her body despite the heat. For a moment she just sat there, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and for her breathing to become less shallow. "I should get home," she eventually offered.

Back in the car, she was still lost in her own thoughts. They were both pawns in somebody else's game. Yearning for some semblance of normalcy she focused on the wedding band on his left hand. "You're married."

A little surprised, but also relieved that the conversation was going in a different direction, Luke confirmed: "Yes I am. Diana swept me off my feet. Literally."

A smile crept its way through her worries. "Literally? As in a fight?"

"Well, Iwas distracted," he replied with a smile of his own at the fond memory. "But Diana could certainly hold her own in a fight. Her father is ex-military. She was raised around army bases all over the country."

"Is she also in security?"

"No. She has seen too many of her father's friends injured… or worse. She was not very happy with my line of work, so she was thrilled when I applied for a desk job."

"But… you are still security?"

With a quick glance towards his passenger, he explained: "Corporate side, not personal detail."

Before her rational mind could stop it, the green-eyed monster within her blurted: "So you are not her CPO?"

Sawyer's hands tightened on the wheel as he mentally kicked himself for bringing the conversation back to his duties with Grey. In a feeble attempt to restore the lighter mood he joked: "A man my age lurking all day around a school might have given the wrong impression."

"A school? Why a…" she didn't finish the sentence. She had overheard Kate tell Ray about the marriage and the bride being heavily pregnant. She had filed the information - the ultimate proof that her husband had cheated on her - in the same deep place where she had buried the rest of her feelings. He had a daughter. Very fleetingly, she wondered how many children he had. It had after all been the main object of contention between the two of them: his desire to have another child pitted against her wish to give her career a fair chance. With her house now in sight, she found the strength to finish her sentence: "I meant his wife, but you don't have to answer. It's none of my business."

Despite her effort at nonchalance, Sawyer could hear the hurt. After the turmoil he had brought into her life, perhaps he could give her this little piece of reassurance. "He isn't married", he said. The flicker of relief on her face didn't make him think any less of her. The brief moment of satisfaction did not make her a bad person, just human. But her next reaction proved to him, yet again, that the female brain was a mystery and men would be well advised to not try and decipher its intricacies. Because if the satisfaction was fleeting and superficial, the anger suddenly replacing it made him grateful that they had reached their destination and he could exit the confines of the car before the imminent explosion.

"Is that why he sent you? His marriage failed and we are plan B? Does his arrogance know no bounds? Wait, don't answer that!"

Mesmerized, Sawyer watched her get out of the car.

"You can take back his letter and his … his… whatever else he sent you here for. Tell him Anabelle Parson has nothing to do with him, or you, or all that… bullshit."

With that she banged the car door shut leaving Luke frozen in place, wondering what the hell had just happened. Panicked at how rapidly and completely the situation had deteriorated, he rushed to do some damage control. Reaching the back of the car at the same time, he took hold of both her arms: "Ana, the divorce was many years ago! The marriage only lasted a few months."

Too late, Luke realized he had used her old name and by the look on her face the damage was done: instead of the anger that had filled her only a second ago, she looked lost and uncertain.

"My name is Annabelle Parson."

He let his hands drop. "Mrs Parson."

Despite his retreat, the damage was indeed done. The years of pretending and building fences against the memories had been under attack since she had first laid eyes on him. Desperate to fight back, she punched the button on the trunk causing the solid cover to rise. But the shield-like structure now obscuring the rest of the car from view was not going to protect her. The white envelope and the manila folder in the glove compartment could not be ignored. If he had taken the trouble to have them hand delivered, he would not relent until he was certain that she had read the contents. She no longer had Ray to protect her, but she did have a husband and she trusted him. A little calmer she informed the man standing beside her: "I'll discuss the letter with my husband. Have you been told to wait for a reply?"

"No ma'am. Just to make myself available in case you have any questions."

Sawyer reached for his wallet and quickly handed her a business card which, to his relief, she placed at the top of the brown paper bag.

Impatient to get to the safety of her home, she ignored the pang of guilt at her lack of civility when she dismissed him with: "I'll call if I think of something." Arms full of groceries, she then turned around and walked away.

Inside the house, she leaned against the door and took in the sight of their family room: the couch with the large pillows, the low table with the varnish long gone and replaced by easier to maintain wood polish, her armchair in the corner by the window, the stack of books on the small table next to it. She was home. Taking comfort from the familiar surroundings, she kicked off her shoes then crossed the room and the hall beyond it to enter the kitchen. Unpacking the grocery bags did not require much conscious thought. Despite her best efforts her mind kept circling around whatever it was that had just happened. On the other side of the wooden door, locked away in the glove compartment of her car, was a letter from the man whose very existence she had spent years trying to ignore. If he had made the effort to write to her, he wanted something, and she knew, like she knew the sun would rise the following morning, that he was going to get, or take, whatever it was that he wanted. The only thing she had any control over was how and when to break the news to Dan.