"Anastasia Steele, for the last time, EAT!" said my gorgeous hunk of manly manliness, the one and only CHRISTIAN GREY! I looked down at my plate. I had two eggs and a slice of bacon made into the shape of a happy face. I think it was a happy face. Was it? I'm not sure.

"ANA!" Christian said. I jumped a little in my seat. I liked it when he was so commanding. I got wet...in my down there. The wetness travelled down my thigh and pooled around my feet. Wait. Was the stuff that comes out of my down there supposed to be yellow? I'm confused. I am an innocent who just lost my virginity, so I don't know this stuff. I didn't even know that orgasms existed until I had one last night with CHRISTIAN GREY! I am a good girl and try not to sully my brain with stuff about sex. Otherwise I will be a ho like that dumb Kate!

"ANA! Are you paying attention? Why are you staring off into space? What is that horrible smell? ANASTASIA STEELE!"

"Yes sir!" I exclaimed. Christian's face was really red. I couldn't believe that I was here, in his dining room, eating breakfast with him at his table!

"I was asking you a question!"

"I'm sorry, sir."

Christian sighed. "I need to go over a...medical questionnaire that I do with all my subs."

"Why?"

"To, uh, make sure that you're in perfect health."

He wants to ask questions about my health? Is that it? Could that mean he cares about me? Oh, Christian is such my Dark Knight!

"Ana, do you happen to know your blood type?"

"AB negative."

Christian's face lit up. "AB negative. The rarest and most divine. I haven't had any AB negative since...since…"

Why was he talking about my blood? Did that have something to do with sex? "Christian, does AB negative blood make me better at sex?"

"Uh, sure, Ana," he said dismissively. He leaned toward me, put his nose against my neck, and inhaled deeply. "Yes, AB negative indeed. I know that particular smell. So delightful. So intoxicating. So…" Christian stopped talking suddenly. Why did he do that? Smell me? Can he really smell my blood? I don't know but...Christian is so HAWT.

Christian grimaced in disgust. "ANASTASIA STEELE! YOU WET YOURSELF! GET IN THE SHOWER RIGHT NOW!"

I giggled. So that's what I did! "I'm a bad girl. Are you going to spank me?" I said lasciviously.

"No!"

No? He didn't want to spank me? Is that it? I think my love was starting to change him! My inner goddess did a backflip.

"Ok!" I said, getting up excitedly.

"And when you come back, make sure you eat your breakfast! You need protein! It's good for the blood!"


"Read this, Scully," said Fox Mulder, handing the red-headed woman the morning's newspaper. She took it from his hand and looked at the main headline: BUSINESS MAGNATE CHRISTIAN GREY RELEASES NEW LINE OF OF MEN'S FOOTWEAR. Below the headline was a photo of Grey standing proudly before a display of leather dress shoes.

"You a fan of his fashion line, Mulder?" said Scully, giving him an odd look.

"No," said Mulder. "But-" He held up one finger and then turned around. He frantically searched through his filing cabinet for a minute before pulling out a manila folder.

"Look at this," he said as he handed it to her.

Opening it, she saw that the top page was a copy of a news article featuring a large photo of a man in a fine suit. "It's Christian Grey. So?"

"Scully, look again."

She glanced down. "This newspaper is dated 1851...in London, England."

"Yes. Except that he didn't go by Christian Grey then; he was Anthony Berkshire, a famous pianist."

Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "Mulder, that can't be Christian Grey."

"Scully, look! They are the same person!"

"No, Mulder, they aren't. It isn't possible that Christian Grey could have been alive back then. They're just two people who happen to look alike."

"Scully!" Mulder placed the two photos beside one another on his desk. "Look! See the scars on Christian's chest? They're the same ones Anthony Berkshire has!"

"A coincidence."

"No. Somehow Anthony Berkshire is still alive."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder…"

"Listen to me! Anthony Berkshire wasn't just a famous pianist. He was suspected in the murder of four young girls, all brunettes with blue eyes. Their naked bodies were found bound, gagged, and drained of blood. By the time the police found their corpses buried on the bank of the Thames, Berkshire was gone and was never seen again. Last night a brunette was found dead on the shore of Bainbridge Island, killed in the same way. We've been assigned to the case. Scully, I know that it's Berkshire and he's killing again! We have to stop him!"

Scully glanced up at the poster Mulder had hung over his desk. It depicted a UFO with the words I WANT TO BELIEVE across the top. Mulder always wanted to believe in ridiculous things like Bigfoot and zombies and often connected them to cases with bizarre theories, which had earned him the nickname "Spooky Mulder" at the FBI. She had been assigned as his partner to "reign him in," but it was proving difficult.

She took a deep breath. "All right, Mulder, let's get started on the case, but it's NOT an X-file, okay?" This was an ordinary murder; nothing supernatural was involved here.