A/N: One of the things I learned in college this past year was to refrain from trying to justify my artistic choices to my audience. My art is supposed to speak for itself, my professors taught me. But this is something that I think needs to be said. I am not promoting Christian being, in the words of one reader, "a lap dog to a child molester." I give power to a pedophile in my story because one of the heartbreaking things about abuse, especially child abuse, is that it gives the victim a distorted image of power. It's a reality of the effects abuse can have on an individual, and whether or not I think that it's "right" is really immaterial to the story I'm telling. It's something to be overcome, not to be ignored. The same goes for how Christian treats Ana. This is what I believe to be Christian's story, and I have to be true to it before I can be anything else. All I can do is ask for your trust in my storytelling and appreciate your readership.

A Part of You Is a Part of Me

"You're back," Elliot said to Christian as they tipped their beer bottles to touch with a clinking sound and each took a swig. They were both seated at the bar in the Heathman Hotel. "Couldn't stay away from the girl?"

"Something like that," Christian muttered, still half guilty about Ana and half worried about Voleur's intentions.

"She's good for you, man," Elliot said. "You're not so uptight around her. She makes you happy."

"She does," Christian agreed.

Elliot narrowed his eyes at Christian. "She's a keeper."

"I know."

"Good, because Mom can't wait to meet Ana."

"You told Mom?"

Elliot grinned sheepishly. "It was kind of big news."

Christian paused a moment, pensively, then asked, "Did Mom ever tell you much about your birth parents?"

"I never asked," Elliot answered, seeming surprised. "I didn't have any reason to, I don't remember anything about them anyway. Why?"

"I have some questions."

"Right." There was a barely-there hint of judgement in Elliot's tone.

"You think I shouldn't?"

"I think Mom worries about all of us a lot, and if you're just curious, don't put her through thinking that she left something to be desired when she raised us."

Curiosity hurts people, Christian realized, thinking of how he'd just scolded Ana for the same vice. "That's not the reason why," Christian told Elliot.

"I know, but honestly I don't understand why you even wonder about it. I mean, I know you remember things, but that was a long time ago."

It's every night, Christian thought.

"This is your life right now," Elliot was continuing, "and I don't know, but it seem pretty good. Don't you want to live in it?"

Christian was trying to decide between just conceding, or explaining about Voleur, when his BlackBerry vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the unfamiliar number on the screen. "Hello?"

"It's Kate."

"How's Ana?" Christian's voice turned tense.

"What did you do, Christian?" Elliot asked, and Christian glared at him.

"Ana keeps asking why you haven't called, and I told her that you're an idiot if you haven't already, but she won't let it go, so hop in your helicopter and get over here."

"I'll be there in ten," Christian said, rolling his eyes and stowing his phone back in his pocket.

"Already in trouble with your woman?"

"In trouble with your woman, actually."

Kate didn't come to the door immediately when Christian knocked. When she did, she poked only her head out and said, "That was fast."

"I was already in Portland."

"Ana's in her room."

"Thank you, Miss Kavanaugh."

"Don't give me that polite businessman bullshit. I'm not above throwing you out of here if you don't make it up to her."

"I don't doubt that," Christian sighed, allowing Kate to lead the way to Ana's bedroom.

She stepped back when they arrived at the closed door, and squinted at Christian. "Fix this," she ordered, wagging her finger at Christian before disappearing into her own room.

Christian knocked lightly on the door.

"Leave me alone, Kate," Ana called softly.

"I'm coming in, Anastasia," Christian called to her firmly before he entered.

Ana was in bed, scrambling to sit up when he entered. "You came."

"I'll always come," Christian vowed, sitting down next to her and running a hand over her hair, which was damp from a shower. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her. Ana frowned, looking so forlorn that Christian couldn't help but reach over and pull her into an embrace. Her skin was cool and smooth and smelled soapy, and the wisps of hair that framed her face tickled his jaw.

Ana seemed to relax into his arms for a moment, and her sigh seemed almost content, but after a moment she stiffened almost imperceptibly. "I can't."

Christian went cold. "Can't what?"

"This," Ana sat up against her headboard and indicated with her finger the space between them.

"You're leaving me." Christian sounded like he'd been slapped.

"I- what?" Ana looked at him like he'd crazy. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"You just said you can't do this."

"I can't let you threaten who I am."

"I wasn't going to actually beat you." Ana sighed and shook her head, and Christian leaned forward intently. "What is it? Explain it to me."

"You say you need to have a submissive. You say it's a part of who you are," Ana said finally, slowly, as if each word was a challenge to recollect.

"Yes."

"When I ask why you're worried, when I want to know what you're thinking, it's not because I'm nosy. It's because I care about you. And that's part of me now, like how BDSM is part of you. And that part isn't going anywhere." Ana paused and took a deep breath. "I don't know what your average submissive is supposed to be, but I know it's not me, and as much as I want to do this with you, I don't want to turn into an unfeeling sex toy. I feel. I have feelings for you." She bit her lip unconsciously and glanced down shyly. "So I'm sorry I eavesdropped, and I know it was wrong, and an invasion of your privacy, and I won't do it again, but you can't threaten who I am."

I love you, Christian wanted to say. Instead, he said, "Okay."

It wasn't until Thursday that Christian humbled himself enough to go back to Elena's hair salon after their fight several days earlier. "Christian, darling," she said when he walked in at closing time, just as the last customer left. "I've been meaning to speak to you. I don't like how we left things the last time we spoke."

"I'm here on business," he said.

"Don't be distant, Christian. You're here, let's cut to the chase. We argued, we've argued before. Ana isn't something to ruin a friendship over."

"I am really here for business."

Elena regarded him skeptically for a moment, and then turned and led him toward the back room, where she poured him a tumbler of vodka and dropped a lime wedge into it. "Very well. What can I do for you?"

"What do you know about my father?"

"Carrick?"

"My other father."

Elena arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "This doesn't sound like business."

"It is," Christian sighed. "And it's not. Someone showed up at work claiming to be my father." He purposefully didn't mention the positive DNA test.

"You're a very notable billionaire," Elena said. "I know you're smarter than to believe someone who wants to claim a connection to your empire."

"You're right," Christian said, still withholding the fact that he really had met his biological father. He recalled how terribly exposed he'd felt when Ana overheard his phone call to Taylor, and knew that it was too personal for even Elena to know unless it was absolutely necessary. "It just made me begin to wonder," Christian lied. "It would hurt Grace to ask her," he improvised on what Elliot had said earlier.

"You're holding back from me," Elena said, examining Christian critically. "It's about last time, isn't it? I was critical of Ana, so you lashed out, and so did I. I understand. We both push each other, it's why we're good business partners and good friends. But it also means we have to push past disagreements like this."

"Fair enough."

"So we're good," Elena clarified warily.

"We're good."

"Now, what exactly are you asking?"

"I need to know if my father was the crack whore's pimp."

Elena nodded knowingly. "Grace thought there would come a day when you would wonder. She was so relived when you never asked."

"I always just assumed he was the pimp."

"He wasn't."

Christian swallowed another mouthful of vodka and felt it burn in his throat.

Mommy was fighting with Him again. The Man was mad and Mommy was yelling back at him and Christian stood on unsteady legs and clung to the side of the doorjamb and tried to will Mommy to stop yelling back because she was making it worse.

"You lying bitch, you're scamming me!"

"How can I scam you when you don't give us anything? I just want to feed him!"

"I won't pay for your mistake, you stupid whore!"

"He's your's mistake too!"

"Like hell he is! I gave you $500 for an abortion and you brought home that bastard anyway!"

"I wasn't going to kill our child!"

"I'll fucking kill both of you, I'll whip you until you can't move, I'll piss on your face-"

"SHUT UP!"

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

The Man pushed Mommy up against the sink, hard, with his left hand, which was fisted around the neck of a green glass bottle, and shoved his free right hand up against Mommy's throat and squeezed. And at first Mommy shouted and tried to push his hand away, but the Man put the bottle on the counter and used both hands, and suddenly the yelling stopped and Christian was relieved until the Man's hard breathing began to ring in his ears and then he was scared again because noise meant he knew what was happening but quiet was a mystery.

Christian blinked and stared at the wedge of lime floating in his drink, its shape distorted by the transparent cubes of ice floating there as well. "He thought he was."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!