A/N: Here is Christian's first morning without Ana. I hope I've captured his character. Thanks so much for the reviews. They mean so much.

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It is very early on Sunday morning when I wake alone. I can still feel Ana, still taste her, my body is still raging with desire for her… but she is not here. How can I miss her so fiercely after such a short time? We've shared a bed less than a half dozen times and yet I find I can barely sleep more than an hour or two without her.

The sun has just begun to rise and that does not seem right. As foolish as it may sound, a part of me is stunned that the world is still spinning on its axis. The sun is going to rise again and the world hasn't stopped. It is surreal almost. As I look out my window I can see cars moving down below. People are up and going about their regular lives just as they do on any other Sunday morning. One would think my world hasn't ended.

It has been almost twenty-four hours since Ana left me and the thought of getting up and facing another day is overwhelming. One thing is certain, I simply cannot go through another one like yesterday. I also cannot hide in bed and let the nightmares torment me either.

The day before, after Ana walked out on me, I believe I was legitimately in shock for a few hours. I sort of miss that feeling. As horrible as it was, it is nothing like the unending, soul shattering pain I feel now.

After seeing her to the elevator, I wandered into my study, started up my laptop and simply stared at the screen for an unknown stretch of time. I have always been able to lose myself in work, but I couldn't find it in myself to answer even the simplest email query at that moment. The writing on the screen may as well have been ancient Greek. Everything that was once so familiar seemed incredibly foreign to me all of a sudden.

Finally, I accepted that I was getting nowhere and decided to head to the gym. Perhaps a good workout would clear my head. That plan fell apart, however, as soon as I entered my bedroom. My intentions of changing into workout clothes were forgotten the moment my eyes fell on the box that was lying on my pillow.

This reminded me of a happy time.
Thank you.
Ana

She'd given me a model kit for a Blanik L23 glider. I traced a finger across her short, handwritten note as memories of that day flashed through my mind. Every detail is seared on my brain, from her adorable grumbling when I woke her up that morning, to her smile of wonder when she realized what we were doing that day.

Every smile. Every giggle. Everything.

My God the memories are physically painful. I wanted to rage at her for making me feel this way. Part of me is so incredibly angry with her. How dare she do something so… thoughtful. It makes the pain of losing her so much harder to take.

She said she loved me, that she would never leave me, and then she left. I still don't understand it. But the glider gave me something to do, something that didn't require a great deal of higher brain function, something that was connected to Ana. For that, at least, I was grateful.

Aside from the overwhelming feeling of loss, my head is also pounding out of my skull. I got drunk last night, really drunk. I have not been drunk in many years. Intoxication tends to lead to a loss of control, which is something I detest and generally avoid at all costs. I truly hate myself this morning for the disgusting spectacle I undoubtedly provided the previous evening.

I skipped the gala, so at least my shame was not up for public consumption, but Taylor saw, of course. He wisely had the sense not to comment. There's a reason I keep him around. I now recall that Elena knows of my shame as well. I vaguely remember her calling, me spilling my guts like some sap, and then begging her not to come over to "show her support". Christian Grey begging again, I'm sure that brought back fond memories for Mrs. Lincoln. I find I want no part of those memories myself. I do not want her support. I want Ana's, only Ana's.

None of that compares to my greatest humiliation, however. Or perhaps it is best termed as my greatest "near miss".

I drunk dialed Anastasia like some fucking teenaged boy. I would like to smash my face in for that display of stupidity. God knows what I would have said had she answered. Most likely more pathetic begging is my guess.

When I dialed her number I heard her Blackberry ringing from downstairs. For a split second I thought she'd returned to me and I was filled with an incredible feeling of relief and elation. Then I realize that she had obviously neglected to forward her calls back to her cell. Foolish girl. Sometimes I wonder if she thinks at all. What if there was an emergency of some sort and someone desperately needed to get in touch with her? Of course, if I were a proper Dom, she would not have to think about such things. I would do that for her. Unfortunately, I have proven myself to be an utter failure on that front. I know now where I went wrong with her. I know why I spent the night tormented by nightmares and awoke with empty arms. I truly have only myself to blame.

Any Dom worth his salt would never have allowed their sub to dictate the terms of her own punishment. They would never have gone along with that ridiculous bargain of hers. It just isn't done and for good reason. What makes it worse is the fact that I KNEW BETTER. As an untrained sub, she is not ready to know how "bad it can get". For one thing she is still having problems accepting the fact that being punished is arousing for her. But still, like the utter fool that I am, I allowed her to call the shots.

If I had done things my way, she would have gotten a very hard spanking with nothing more than my bare hand. I would have made her count and quite possibly gone to twenty-five, making it clear that the last five or so were added on because she ran from me.

After that was done, I would have fucked her especially hard and, depending on her attitude, I may or may not have deprived her of an orgasm. Had I done things that way, she may have been a little angry with me, perhaps, but I also fully believe she would still be here with me.

Why do I fail to use simple common sense where this one little girl is concerned? What is wrong with me?

Do I love her? Was Elena actually right about that?

Perhaps I do. I know I've never felt like this before. Normally, if a sub's desires are too far from my own, I walk away without a second thought or so much as a backward glance. There are plenty of pretty brunettes willing to play by my rules, why waste energy with someone who is not compatible?

But Anastasia is different. I want to please her. I want her company even when she insists on being difficult. I want her to like me. I've never cared if a sub liked me or not. Respected me, yes, but 'like' was never part of the equation. This is all so odd. I can think of nothing else, no one else. The very thought of another sub tastes like ashes in my mouth.

She was NEVER your sub!

No, she wasn't - not really, I admit it. She never signed a contract and part of me didn't even want her to. I love her smart mouth. I love that she challenges me… and I want more. I do. It's as simple and as complicated as that.

Before she left, I told myself that I was only doing 'more' to please her. It was simply a means to an end, a rather unconventional way of gaining control over her. And I do want to control her. I need to control her. A dark part of me would like to drive to her apartment right now and prove to her that she is mine. Make love to her, force her to yield to me, show her how much she needs me… and take back all the control I ceded to her.

"You are one fucked-up son of a bitch."

It's true, I am. But oddly, I do not wish to punish her anymore and the thought of instilling fear in her sickens me. I want to control her, but I do not want to hurt her to do so. I never want to see that look in her eyes again, never want to hear such words from her. I'll do ANYTHING to avoid it. I'm not sure what all of that means, but it is why I cannot contact her yet. I need to "sort my shit out" first. Truer words were never spoken.

The only thing I know is that I want her back. I want it all. I want her to be my girlfriend and my sub. I want to be everything to her.

You are everything to her. She loves you.

Why do those three simple words send pure terror through me? I should be pleased. Normal men want their girlfriends to love them. Problem is, I am not a normal man. I know I can be an excellent Dom to her. I can take care of her like no one else in the world and show her more pleasure than she could ever imagine in her wildest dreams. But I cannot be the man who deserves her love. I simply cannot. I am too broken.

You do not deserve her. You're one twisted, dark, heartless son of a bitch. Anastasia only thinks she loves you. Her so-called love will dissolve the moment she knows your deepest secret. You know this Grey. Let her go.

I feel sick at the thought. I would rather her never love me at all than to see that love turn to disgust. I can't bear it. I also cannot bear the thought of never holding her again. I am truly damned.

What am I supposed to do? Can I leave her alone and let her find someone who deserves her? Or do I try to show her I can be that man – even though I don't believe it myself. Will I even survive if I fail again?