Everything is the same.
From the yellow teeth and the jutting cheekbones to the cold green eyes and the hooked nose. Age has etched its way across his face like dendrochronological rings in a tree. Dark hollows guard his shrewd gaze and the uncontrollable jump of his jawline tells the story of his continued drug use.
My chest expands and strains against the buttons of my shirt.
It's been twenty years. Two decades.
And the terror within is still as pronounced today as it was back then. But it's a different kind of terror. This terror is laced and intertwined with a burning anger and a sense of murderous intent. Shock continues to splinter my soul as I stand there with my dick in my hand. But shock can only protect the mind from harsh truths for so long. It's weird, but I would stand on oath and swear that Miss Steele's pristine office suddenly reeks with stale cigarettes and flat, cheap beer.
The smells of my infancy.
The Crack Whore cowers and trembles in fear inside the bubble of my brain's most guarded secrets. Her weak arms are raised hopelessly in front of her face as he towers above her, screeches of monetary deficit frothing at his thin lips. I see it all from my position of cowardice under the coffee table. I don't go to her, I don't help her, I don't move a muscle. I never did. Not until it was too late, not until she couldn't wake up anymore.
I'm as close to a panic attack as I've ever come.
But then it happens.
I cling to the present and shove the past back in its box of woe. I'm fighting the battle of my scarred adolescence. I'm giving it everything I have, in full knowledge of the cost. He is not going to be the one who sinks my doomed ship even earlier than its fate As the cruel grin spreads across his wasted face, I find the strength that until now, I never knew I had. And that strength comes from a singular, unyielding fact.
The person I was twenty years ago, was the son of a whore.
The person I am now, is Christian Fucking Grey.
My voice is the smooth silk that I've learned to spin like the most elegant and deadly of spiders.
"Miss Steele, Matthew, please indulge me for a moment. I clearly need to tell you about this man. He is Jake Carver. And to explain Jake Carver to you both, you must allow me the tangent of explaining my family tree. I promise to be brief. You see, I was not born Christian Grey. I am the adopted son of Grace and Carrick Grey. My biological mother was a young, uneducated and impoverished prostitute that resided in the tenements of Detroit. Jake served, for at least four years, as her pimp and drug dealer."
I see a shard of light implode into darkness in Miss Steele's eyes.
Interesting.
"Jake was an exceptionally demanding employer and seems to have been born without the basic morality most of humanity clings to. He would beat, burn and berate my biological mother on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. Only when he tired of that activity, would he turn his attention and predilections towards me, her then infant son. When I was four years old, perhaps out of sheer necessity, my mother committed suicide and I was removed from our residence and placed into the adoption system. I have not seen or heard from Jake since that time."
I know now why he's here.
I know it deep down in my bones.
"Before today, only one other person outside my parents knew of this early chapter in my life. That person is Elena Lincoln. I am not generally a betting man, but I am willing to wager GEH and whatever else I possess, that Jake is present now, at her bidding. Her scheming. I'm willing to bet that he is part of an insurance policy Elena crafted years ago in anticipation of this suit, no matter how unlikely she considered it. I'm more than happy to gamble on the fact that she has greased Jake's palm slicker than an oil spill to be here today for the sole purpose of sinking this case. What he's going to say or how he's going to do it, I don't know. But I'm sure it's going to be good. An Elena Lincoln Special that's been in the works for the better part of a decade."
My heart is hissing under the exertion I'm placing upon it.
But it doesn't matter. Because a breakthrough is a breakthrough.
Dr Flynn can go ahead and kiss my filthy rich ass.
Because that right there… that was fucking therapy.
Jake captures my attention. All of it. Miss Steele and Matthew melt into the magnolia walls. It's just me and him. In an arena that I never saw him entering, but in hindsight, I should have baked a cake in anticipation of this moment. Between our fucking and flogging sessions, Elena and I used to play chess. Weird upon weird, granted. But she is an excellent fucking chess player. Always three or four steps ahead. This case is nothing more than a complex game to her. Jake is her second offensive strike. He will not be the last. She's already five moves past him as he stands before me.
The slightness of his torso strikes me.
The firmness of my own captivates me.
I'm the bigger one, now. I'm the stronger one.
We've come full circle.
"I always knew you would grow up to be a cocky little bastard," he laughs, and the sound of it grates upon my nerves, fraying their endings. "You were always a freak. From your abnormal eyes right down to your smart mouth. Even as a toddler, always with the mouth. All I did was try to instill a little discipline into you. It's not as if you had a father to do it now, is it? But even then, I knew there was something wrong with you. Mentally speaking."
And there it is.
The plan.
It has Elena's red lipstick signature all over it.
Simple, but effective.
"You're going to say the trauma of my youth, all the shit with my biological mother has scarred me to the point where I'm utterly imbalanced," I state flatly. "You're going to stand on oath and swear that, having known me from childhood, I exhibited delusional tendencies from an early age. That I was an emotionally detached and peculiar child who made up shocking stories about those around me. That as an adult, you are not surprised to find me embroiled in a case where I allege astonishing and disgusting untruths against a fine and upstanding woman like Elena Lincoln. That's the game plan, isn't it?"
The slow and cruel smile is the one that plagues my dreams.
It spreads slowly across his face like the cancer he is.
"You always were, to your credit, a clever little bastard," Jake says quietly. "That about sums it up, yes. But I'm not here because Elena paid me off. I'm here because it's the truth and I can't stand by while you drag her name through the mud to appease your sick little mind. You're not well, Christian. You never have been. Even dear, sweet Ella used to worry herself sick about you and your peculiarities. I don't want to say that you were the only reason she took that overdose, but it's fair to say you were a deciding factor. I guess she couldn't bear to watch her little freak grow into a big freak. It's sad, really. Very sad."
I'm quick but Matthew is quicker.
He's as fast as fucking lightning.
His restraining arm snakes around my waist and hauls me back as white foam froths with fury at my mouth. My mind is blank. A white-hot tongue of anger licks my intestines and spurs my momentum. I strain against the bond of Matthew's arm and Miss Steele's amazingly calm words of warning are lost on me. I hate the Crack Whore. I loathe her.
And I loved her.
His words are careful and calculated. He needs to draw a reaction, set me off. Elena would have told him exactly how to do it. Shit, I practically drew the bitch a roadmap to my most bitter of buttons. Jake smiles coolly at my descent into chaos, his sadistic appetite being treated to an all you can eat buffet. It's only Matthew's quiet words, murmured directly into my ear that halts the heaving advance.
"You're too old to still be her puppet, Christian. Think on what you do
I deflate faster than a pierced hot air balloon.
Matthew removes his arm and I stand unaided. Years have passed since I felt such a loss of control. My blood sloshes in my ears and my teeth are coated in my own vitriol. But I pull it back. All I need is my mask, it's never far from me; I wear it every single day. Within a moment and a blink of an eye, it's on.
And I'm Christian Grey again.
"You will regret this," I state calmly, envisioning my boardroom, "You will not escape from this unscathed. I did not pursue you for the suffering you afflicted upon me as a child. That was a conscious decision. I chose that path. But if you do this, if you go through with this and lie in court in exchange for a brown envelope from Elena, I'll ruin you. I'll find what little happiness you have in your miserable, empty existence and I will take it from you. When you least expect it."
The widening of his eyes is the only betrayal of his emotion.
And he quickly contracts them back to size.
"You cannot threaten your way out of the truth, little boy. You need help. You need to see a therapist or whatever people like you do when your feelings are hurt. But you're not going to ruin Elena just to get your rocks off. She contacted me years ago based on your lies about me. After ten minutes with me she knew I could never do the things you allege. We've become close friends. Very close friends. And I can't let you do this to her. I just can't."
There's a tapping sound in the peripherals of my mind.
My mouth runs dry.
"Close friends? Elena doesn't have friends. Elena has strategically selected acquaintances. Weapons. You need to spare me your bullshit. Not content with destroying the life of my biological mother and abusing her only child, you're back to finish the job. Be a man, grow some balls and at least fucking admit it. But don't say you weren't warned. When you're standing in the ashes of your life, don't say that you weren't fucking warned."
He opens his mouth, something smarting on his lips, but he's cut off.
Miss Steele's voice startles me.
In tandem we turn to her, as she sits behind her computer.
That was the tapping sound.
"Jake Carver, is it? Excuse my interruption into this little stage show of yours but I've just run your name through this office's database… and cross-referenced that search with the national database. Unless I'm either blind or illiterate, you have an open warrant for eight counts of solicitation of prostitution in Baltimore. Released on bail you absconded, and never stood trial. That was three years ago, and the warrant is still outstanding. Hmm such a coincidence, as Aaron Weller, the ADA there is a firm friend of my father's. Growing up, he was like an uncle to me. I haven't spoken to him in years and I really do owe him a call."
Her slim hand slithers towards her desk phone.
Jake's face distorts into an ashen sheet of sickly white.
Miss Steele's face is a calm summer's breeze.
My mouth drops open and Matthew stares at her like he's never seen a woman before in his life.
I take a moment to be weirdly fucking annoyed by that.
"You can't threaten me like that," Jake says weakly, "You're a government official. You represent the state. You're supposed to uphold the law, not circumvent it. I'll go to your boss. Fuck it, I'll go to your boss's boss and tell them exactly what's going on in here. You'll be out of a job just long enough to really enjoy puberty."
She smirks.
I've never seen her smirk before.
It fucking suits her.
"Mr Carver, do use your two brain cells wisely. I am an esteemed ADA, the youngest ever in this state, and I have connections that would make your head spin. No one, absolutely no one, is going to take the word of someone like you over someone like me. All that has transpired within these four walls is that I politely asked you to leave… as you have created a most unsavory fuss."
Her steely blue eyes swivel to Matthew and me.
"Isn't that right, gentleman?"
We nod like extras in a low budget film.
Jake withers like last month's hyacinths.
"Now, Mr Carver, for the sake of clarity I will need to depose you at your earliest convenience if you wish to continue with your testimony. Mrs Lincoln's attorney will advise you in regards to same and my secretary will be in touch to arrange a suitable time. Of course, travel to a Maryland jail will be cumbersome for me so I would appreciate as much notice as possible. You understand, don't you?"
The cowardice I mistook for power as a child scalds his face.
He crumbles into a thousand pieces of formless filth.
And some of the darkness within me wriggles into the light.
"I don't think that I have the time to commit to this farce," he spits. "Elena will just have to understand. I'm a busy man and this isn't my fight. I don't want to give my testimony. I don't have the time. No matter how well intentioned I am."
He turns to glare at me and I offer him a rare smile.
A sincere fucking smile.
"Your time will come you little prick," he seethes, "You're just like your mother. Aspirations beyond your station. And look how well that ended for her. You'll fare no better. Pride cometh before the fall. Remember that, you fucked up jerk."
Violence is too good for this spineless specimen.
I offer him what he deserves, instead.
Pity.
"Find Jesus, Jake. You need him in your life."
Matthew snorts in laughter as Mr Carver pivots like an ancient ballerina with an artichoke up her ass and storms from the room. The walls vibrate with the slamming of the door and a silence sprinkles like dust in his wake. A breath that's managed to linger in my lungs since his arrival seeps from me like a noxious gas and I inhale deeply.
I feel all eyes on me.
I return their gaze with a raised brow.
"I don't know why there's all this fuss about the Kardashians. My life is way more interesting."
