APOV

"Please please don't go in there with your guns blazing and start ripping her to shreds. I really like her and I do not want to find another therapist." He levels at me with his hand on the door knob and lowers his face to mine.

"Anastasia, she told you to stop having sex with me. I take serious issue with that. I'll behave but if she presses the issue, we're leaving. Period."

"That isn't what she said and you know it so stop with the dramatics." God he's worse than a woman!

Dr. Fischer greets us, a handshake for Christian and a quick hug for me. I wanted to get this out in the open before dinner tonight so that we had one less thing between us when he talks to his parents. I'm not sure exactly how to handle something like this and truthfully, it's got me a bit freaked out knowing that he relies on me so heavily to fill the gap.

"Thank you so much for fitting us in today, Dr. Fischer." She nods and waves her hand. Something tells me I could call her at three in the morning and she'd 'fit' me in. I don't know how much Christian pays her per hour but I'm sure it's not cheap.

"Christian, I understand you're upset with some of the things Ana and I discussed on Thursday?" He shifts his arm lengthwise across the couch, his ankle resting on his knee and slits his eyes at her. We have just entered Dom/CEO Christian Grey territory. Dr. Fischer looks less than impressed.

"She informed me that you think it wise for us to discontinue our physical relationship. I can only assume this is because you are now aware of my previous lifestyle and therefore deem what Ana and I have as unsafe."

"Not at all. Your lifestyle, as presented to me by Ana, is now in the past, is this true?"

"Yes."

"And from her explanations neither of you has a desire to continue it in the way that you were previously accustomed to?"

"Correct."

"But you do sometimes use sex as a distraction according to her. Would you say that is accurate, Mr. Grey?" Mr. Grey, the woman's smart meeting him on his terms in his current irate state. He tenses but remains impassive even as his fingers begin to drum on my shoulder.

"Occasionally though I've found that I do that less and less." Her gaze turns to me in question.

"I agree with that. At first I felt like he would use it to stop me from asking questions or to stop conversations he didn't want to have." He nods and opens his mouth to speak.

"I did, I can't deny that. I've never been in a sexual relationship that wasn't one sided as far as who had the control so to hand that over and to allow myself to be on equal footing is new for me. I'm trying."

"Sex is a lot like a language, Mr. Grey. We learn it over time, make it our own and use it for communication on a very intimate level. We let our lover know our needs, our desires, our emotions, our fears, our hurts."

"In a few short weeks Anastasia's life has completely changed and some of those changes have stirred up new emotions that require a different coping mechanism. From what I could gather from the information she shared with me, sex is a coping mechanism for you. My concern was that because it's so new to her and it comes on the heel of so many other new experiences, that she would automatically gravitate towards sex as well. Doing that, in her case, could be a detriment to the years of therapy she's already undergone."

His black Feragamos start to tick on his knee but he relaxes slightly and lets his hand drop to my leg in solidarity. "So, you don't think sex between us is a bad thing, you're just concerned that it might overshadow the other outlets she has."

"Basically, yes. In less than three months her entire world has shifted. Emotionally she has been forced to revisit painful memories of her teen years, she has had to face the sad fact that her relationship with her mother will never be what she wants it to be and she has fallen in love. Socially she has gone from a relative unknown to being recognized by thousands. Overnight she went from anonymity to not being able to get a coffee anymore. Financially she went from budgeting and careful planning to over the top gifts and lavish vacations in which she has no financial responsibility. Physically she has been attacked which in and of itself is a torment but she's had the added bonus of it bringing up her past abuses. She's also taken on the role of lover in every sense of the word which is a wonderful thing but it's also a new added element to a very full plate."

"My suggestion for you and Ana with regards to sex wasn't for you to abstain entirely but for the two of you to seek solace and comfort in each other in ways outside of sex as well." His foot drops and he leans forward, rubbing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Like talking?"

"Among other things." She pauses and lets the silence sit heavily between us but neither he nor I speak. "Ana made it clear that abstaining entirely wasn't going to happen and since that's not what was suggested, I take no issue with it. What I'd like to do is ask you a few questions so that you can understand how important it is that your relationship doesn't fall into a codependency state with sex being the glue." He gives her a 'go ahead' glare and weaves his fingers together.

"Ana, where do you want this relationship to go ultimately?" Oh god, do I say it?

"I want this to be forever." I squeak it out, his face turning towards mine with a grin that could light up Times Square.

"You do?" I nod slowly. He reaches up and pulls my lip out from between my teeth and answers back, "Me too."

"Christian, in the past, how did you cope with stress?"

"Sex or violence." Dr. Fischer looks at me alarmed but I shake my head and close my eyes. I know what he means.

"Define violence."

"Sparring with a kick boxer, hitting the bag in the gym for hours. Before that fighting when I was a teen."

"But you preferred sex?"

"Yes."

"Rough sex?" He has the decency to blush but squarely looks her in the eye and nods.

"Yes."

"And now?"

"Now I want to just have sex with Ana. I don't care what kind of sex it is, I just want to be with her."

"And is that the only thing that settles you inside?" He thinks carefully.

"Pretty much." He looks at me and knits his eyebrows. "And that concerns you?" My legs pull up underneath me and I sit up to grab at his hand which he willingly gives me.

"It concerns me that you have finally found peace and purpose and that it's all on me to maintain that. I feel like at some point I'm going to fail you or disappoint you and it's going to crush you instead of just upset you. It scares me sometimes, the trust you have in me."

He silently studies me, squeezing my hand while I trace circles on his knuckles.

"You're afraid that if you deny me or fail me, that I'll go back to my old coping mechanism because it's either you or that and if you've failed, then that's all that's left." He gets it. He fucking gets it. A huge weight just lifted off my shoulders.

"Yes."

"Ana." He breathes out, pinching his nose before taking my face in his hands. "I will never go back to that life. It's not an option for me anymore."

"The two of you are clearly in love. You're compatible in every way and have already established a deep trust in each other that usually takes years to develop. What we don't want is a co-dependency to form and in order to avoid that, we need to figure out where the crux of that dependency lies and work out from there. In your case, Christian, it's sex. Would you agree?"

He sits back and crosses his arms in front of him. "Yes. I can see how that can be a problem."

"Each of you has approached this newfound intimacy in very different ways. Ana, you tend to disbelieve that this could be happening and you pull back a bit, wary of taking on a responsibility like the ownership of another's heart and well-being. Christian, you run towards the intimacy and want to consume it and own it. It's a clash that is easily worked out based on the strong trust you already have."

Christian is sitting there with his head bowed, shaking it slightly. He needs a haircut. Suddenly his hand runs violently through his hair and he stands, his hands on his hips.

"Flynn," he turns to Dr. Fischer, "my therapist, he said at the beginning of all of this that it was unfair to put you in the role of savior. I know what he means now. It scares you and it overwhelms you and it makes you feel like you need to pull back from me not just to protect yourself but to protect me as well." His hand shoots out towards me. "Am I right?"

"Yes. I want you well in all ways and I would be devastated if you got there only for me to do something that pissed you off or god forbid I die or something and then you're back at square one."

"Don't. Don't ever talk about you dying, Ana, I'll go crazy if you talk like that." Both hands are pulling at his hair so I stand and gently pull them down.

"I'm not going anywhere, calm down. I'm just saying that it's too much pressure to be the end all when it comes to your emotional well-being." He turns sharply to Dr. Fischer.

"So what do I do? What do we do?"

"For one, you need to broaden your circle. Find someone you trust that you can try to open up to. Start with little things like your day and move onto the bigger things as they come up. Make that relationship another priority."

"Elliot." He waves his hand dismissively. "What else?"

"You find an outlet for stress that has nothing to do with Ana or violence."

"Piano. Running. Flying."

"Use them more. It sounds as if those things have been shelved while you immersed yourself in this new relationship."

"They have but I see your point. Consider it done. Anything else?"

"Help others." This stops him in his tracks and he stares at the couch.

"I do."

"Then you're ahead of the game. Ana, you already have a strong support group. Use them and nurture those relationships outside of the one you have with Christian."

"Sex is fine though?" Oh my god he's so embarrassing. She laughs and stands to usher us out.

"Sex is fine as long as it's done in the language of love and not of dependency. There will be times when you'll 'need' each other physically. That's fine, that's good actually. But it can't always be about the need for one to fill a void or you will stifle this beautiful thing you've got going on right now."

"That wasn't so bad was it?" He takes a big bite of his BLT, no doubt to avoid talking and watches me as I chew my grilled cheese sandwich.

"No, she made some really valid points actually. I didn't realize that I was suffocating you." He's hurt but this has to be addressed, painful as it may be. Either we do this now rationally or it explodes later on.

"You're not but I can see it happening and I don't want that. The pressure is too great." He swallows and sips his water thoughtfully.

"Is that why you didn't want to move in?"

"Partly. Outside of the revelations I got through my mom and the other things we spoke about I also feel like I have no privacy anymore. I mean, we're at a diner in the middle of Seattle at 11 in the morning and there are three security personnel here to ensure that I don't choke on my ginger ale. Everything I do gets reported back to you, you know every time I'm sick, you know what outfit I have on, who I talk to, all of it. It's hard to adjust to that."

"I'm sure it is but I have to ensure you're safe, Anastasia. They're not here to watch you eat, they're here because you are dating a multi-billionaire with a shit ton of enemies who would love nothing more than to hurt me. If someone got a hold of you and demanded I sign over everything to get you back, I'd do it. It's a real risk and one you're going to have to get used to."

"I think I've done remarkably well." He dips a fry in ketchup and grimaces when I dip mine in mustard.

"That is so weird. Yes, you have done well and eventually you won't even notice them. If it bothers you, I'll stop having Sawyer send me hourly updates."

"Hourly? Are you kidding? Ana peed again. Ana got more coffee. Ana answered her phone and is eating a Reece's cup because her boyfriend is driving her crazy. Hourly?" He has the decency to look embarrassed.

"I'll stop it."

"Please, Christian. I need my privacy and I can see why the CPO's are important but you've got to meet me halfway on this. My safety is one thing, my privacy is another." I watch as he processes the words before he sits back, his decision made.

"I can do that. Now, what's for dinner?" Yes, thank you. Enough of the heavy talk for now, my ever present headache is returning.

"Tomato and roasted pepper bruschetta to start followed by grilled shrimp pesto pasta with asparagus and peas. I was thinking we'd do individual peach melba's for dessert but I want to see what the market has that looks good first. I've never had a boyfriends parents over for dinner, I'm a bit nervous."

"It's my parents, they're just happy to be invited, relax."

He tosses a $50 on the table and pulls me up, whispering in my ear on the way out. "All that talk about sex has me wanting to fuck you on the hood of the car. You're lucky it's sunny and hot out today or I would. Speaking of which, you are not to wear white tanks like this out in public unless I'm with you." His tone is light but one look at his face and I know he's serious.

"Are you really starting this shit again? Do we really need to talk about how you don't tell me what I can and can't wear?" He hops in the topless Spyder and adjusts his Aviators. Damn why does he have to look so hot?

"No, we don't need to have this conversation again but I've had about all I can take of men eye fucking you. It kills me, fucking kills me that any pervert can jump online and pull up those pictures of you doing Pilates. You know how many hits his website has had since your pictures went up?" How would he know that? "Over three million visits. Three million, Ana! Don't tell me there's that many people interested in classes in Seattle." He realizes his mistake a second too late and clams up, sitting rigid and flashing me a smile when he begins to back up.

"And how would you know that?"

"Barney." Well I'll give him credit for not lying.

"Does Jared know you're hacking into his site?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ana. Of course he doesn't. Don't look at me like that, we need access to the comments and emails sent in so that we can monitor your safety." He turns the wheel with the flat of his palm and mutters. "I should have never allowed you to do those picture."

He bangs his hand on the dash just as I open my mouth. "Agreed to! Damn it, I shouldn't have agreed to, not allowed. For fucks sake agreed!" I try, I really do try to be angry but the laughter bubbles up and out freaking him out even more.

"Are you really that afraid of me?"

"Fucking terrified. I have no clue what I'm doing here but I'm so afraid to fuck it up that I keep saying things that….fuck it up!"

"Oh come on! You're doing great but tell me, what is so scary about me? You're the one with the reputation of ripping people's heads off!"

"Ana, you're the only person in the world who can bring me to my knees and that's the god's honest truth. You leaving me is the scariest thought in the world and I'm afraid that if I fuck it up enough, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Well," I say, running my hands over his unruly windblown hair as he pulls onto Sixth Avenue. "As long as you remain faithful, I'll stay and we'll work it out. But cheating is a hard limit for me, baby. Outside of that, your disease of foot in the mouth will piss me off but it won't chase me off. Now, can we talk about this hair?"

I'm excited to finally get to meet Franco who has agreed to meet us at Escala and rush through our shopping so that we get home in time. He blusters in, literally blusters, and with his fake Italian accent he begins to walk around me, taking me in and admiring what he sees.

"Oh, bellisimo mi babi! Oh! Fantastico! You are exactly what our man here needs! Mother Mary it was a hopeless case before you but now! Oh now he is complete!" Despite his over the top demeanor and his very bad accent I can't help but like him. Christian stands back and watches as Franco fluffs my hair and talks about highlights and lowlights. I have no idea what he's talking about but apparently Christian does because he steps forward and in a much lighter voice than I would have expected tells Franco in no uncertain terms that my hair is off limits. After offering him an iced tea Christian ushers him into the guest room next to his bedroom and waits while Franco sets up his tools in the bathroom.

In between prepping dinner I meander back to watch; seeing Christian in any role other than CEO or boyfriend is still so new to me that I stand mesmerized. Franco has his hair wet and brushed forward with a black robe wrapped around his shoulders. Christian's eyes are closed and Franco prattles on about his mother who's visiting from Queens, I knew it!, and how she's been down to the salon daily for massages. Just hearing the name Esclava makes my skin itch.

Christian offers the obligatory 'mmmhmm' and 'is that right' but other than that his eyes stay closed while Franco moves around his head, shearing his copper locks. I fight the urge to gather the hair in my hands and hoard it.

"Fantastico, head back, per favore." His eyes remain closed until Franco has brushed his hair back, letting him style it and then run a large fanned brush over his face. Only then does Christian open his eyes and look in the mirror, leaning forward to run his hands over his scalp.

"Good. Can we do the manicure in the kitchen?"

"Fantastico! Of course!" Franco runs around cleaning up the space while Christian turns to find me waiting in the doorway.

"Hey, baby."

"You should shower before you get itchy. You've got little hairs all over you." He looks down and smiles.

"Come with me."

"I can't! I've got to get dinner ready." He grabs my butt and kisses my nose, squeezing past me and moving towards our bedroom.

A few minutes later he emerges and sits at the breakfast bar with Franco, sipping an iced tea and resuming his 'mmmhmm's'.

"So dinner, tonight, anything special mi bella?"

"Oh you know, the parents are coming over." Franco's perfectly styled eyebrows raise.

"Oh I see, sweetie. The in-laws you mean. Oh Mother Mary that Grace has the best cheekbones! I swear she doesn't look a day over 40."

"When did you see her last, Franco?" Christian's question surprises him, I doubt in the years he's been doing Christian's hair that he's ever been asked a question. After a small sputter he cocks his head to the side, throws his hand on his hip and counts in the air with the nail buffer.

"Mmm. About two weeks now. I expect I'll see her tomorrow for a manicure or blow out. You know her and Ms. Lincoln do their bi-weekly lunches on Sundays." My stomach turns for Christian but he has no reaction.

Once Franco goes he washes his hands and offers to help but his phone rings as soon as he's started and he answers it on a grunt.

"Hey, Elliot…yes they're still coming…I don't know, some pepper tomato bread thing and shrimp with pesto…no you're not invited for leftovers…I'm sure but thanks…I won't…I said I won't so drop it…yea hold on." He hands me the phone with an eye roll. "He wants to talk to you."

"Hi Elliot."

"Hi. How is he? How are you?"

"I'm good, he's great."

"Is he nervous? Because I can be there in less than 10 minutes. Do you think I should hang in the lobby maybe?" I give him a little laugh but am touched by his offer.

"No, he'll be fine. If he needs you, I'll make sure that he reaches out."

"And you? You'll be there?"

"Not in the room, he wants to do this alone. I think he's afraid they'll be hurt that I knew before they did so I'll wait in the bedroom but he'll know where I am should he change his mind." I hear him exhale for a long time and then clear his throat.

"Thank you, Ana. I'm not foolish enough to think that this change in him isn't because of you. I'll be there around seven to take him for a run and workout then we'll all meet Katie for brunch at 11 like usual as long as he's up for it. Sound ok to you?"

"Perfect."

As the minutes tick by Christian grows restless, walking to and from his office with no real purpose, flipping through my iPhone and downloading songs onto it ranging from Florence and the Machine to Cat Stevens. The songs themselves make no sense to me but they seem to calm him a bit so I say nothing. I've given up on his help tonight, he's too wound up but I keep him as busy as I can setting the table and choosing the wine.

He's relieved when Ros calls about a problem with the new shipyard he closed on in Panama and disappears into his office long enough for me to shower and dress. The dress I've chosen is a light brown and hits at my knees. The light breezy fabric is perfect for a summer dinner on the balcony but I'm the only one who cares what I'm wearing. Christian smiles tightly and announces that his parents are on their way up and then breathes deeply, closing his eyes and flexing his hands.

"Where will you talk with them?"

"In my office." He notices me for the first time in hours. "You'll be here?"

"I'll clean up and then wait in the bedroom to give you privacy. Just call my phone, use the intercom or yell for me if you need me." He smiles and hooks his finger in the fabric of my dress nearest my breasts.

"You look sensational as usual, Anastasia."

The elevator dings and in walk Carrick and Grace, obviously happy to have been invited here for dinner. Grace gushes over the appetizers and talks about anything and everything. She's not nervous, she's excited and it thrills me and saddens me at the same time. She'll finally get to know her son but the cost will be great.

"So, what's the occasion, Christian?" Carrick leans back and swirls his white wine, pushing away his empty plate. He grins knowingly at Grace. They have no idea. I feel sick.

"Well, actually we do have news. Ana has agreed to move in with me."

"Christian! That's wonderful! Ana, I'm so happy to hear you're taking this step." Carrick raises his glass and toasts to our new living situation. I should be celebrating but I can't help the feeling of doom that hangs in the air. After dessert I make coffee and put it on a tray, bringing it to Christian's office and letting him know that it's there. His eyes flash with fear but he stands and rests his hand on my lower back, kissing the top of my head and inhaling deeply.

"Mom, dad, would you care for some coffee?" They seem a bit surprised when he leads them to the office but they follow dutifully. At the door I pause and kiss his cheek.

"Check your desk before you start. I love you and I'll be waiting." He looks so sad, so forlorn, so desperate that I almost tell him to forget it but I know, as does he, that it either happens tonight, or in a month or in a year but it has to happen. Once the door shuts I rest my hand on it and say a little prayer for peace and wisdom and forgiveness.

CPOV

Before I say anything or do anything I walk to my desk where I know Ana has left something for me.

You can do this.

It's so simple, scratched out on a sheet of yellow lined paper but it's so profound. I can do this because I have to do this. My parents are pensive, the light and airy mood from before has been replaced with a heaviness that has nothing to do with the dark walnut furniture surrounding us.

"Christian?" My mom walks to me and touches my hand. "Are you sick? Just tell me you're not sick."

"No, mom, I'm not sick." Her relief is immediately replaced by a wary fear. My father has skipped the coffee and has poured himself a brandy, refusing to sit when I ask them to. My mom sits on the edge of the dark leather couch, her hand wrapped around a white mug of coffee while my dad stands next to her defensively.

"Son, what's going on? Where is Ana?"

"In the bedroom. I need to talk to you both about something and I need to do it alone."

My mom moves the mug to the table next to her and waits. Inside I'm churning with fear and disgust. Why didn't I just say no all those years ago? What will this do to my family? I'm silent, my mouth dry and ears ringing but still they sit and wait.

"I wanted to talk to you about why I've been so distant, why I've pushed you away for so many years and what I have to say is ugly and hurtful and disgusting and frankly I'm afraid to tell you but I have to. I should have years ago." My hands tug at my hair and I freeze when I see my dad doing the same thing. My dad. I see him as I did when I was a little kid for the first time in years. Not as a lawyer or an advisor but as my dad. I don't dare look at my mother right now.

"Ugh! This is so hard. Years ago I began having a very secret relationship with an older woman. It wasn't a healthy relationship in any way, in fact it was quite dark and confusing and it did a lot of damage, some of it just now coming to light."

"What kind of relationship?" her voice is just above a whisper.

"A sexual one. I was 15 when it started." My dad's eyes fly open but still I don't look at my mom. "I kept it secret for many reasons, the main one being that if I told, it would have ended and I didn't want it to."

"When? When could this have happened?"

"Who?" My father interrupts with a yell. Here it is. Just fucking say it you coward! I look at my mom then, she deserves the truth.

"Elena Lincoln." The air rushes out of the room and the collar of my shirt begins to strangle me but nobody moves, nobody cries. The silence is actually worse. Finally my mother blinks and speaks.

"Elena? My Elena?" I nod and hang my head. "You and Elena were…having sex when you were 15?"

"Yes."

"Elena Lincoln and you were having sex when you were 15 and she was, how old? 34? 35? Oh my god." Her hand covers her mouth then and she looks away.

"How did this happen, Christian? And more importantly how could you not tell us this until now?" My father is raging, I can feel the tension in his body and I answer him, explaining how she came onto me, how she hit me and then kissed me, how she used sex to keep me from drinking and fighting and how she told me, over and over that if I told, it was me they'd hate.

"You stopped fighting and drinking because of Elena?" My mom puffs and then stands. "Well, you think that's why but it's not. You stopped because you made a decision to. She just used...that as a manipulative tool." Her hand flies back to her mouth and she sits heavily on the couch. "I told her those things were happening, I told her what was going on and she used it to molest you. Oh my god! I betrayed you and she abused you because of it!" Her whole body shakes with sobs and I go to her and kneel at her feet, taking her hand in mine and begging for her to not blame herself.

"Mom, it could have been anyone. I was so fucked up, so totally filled with rage and self-hatred that anybody could have come along and played with my mind."

"But it wasn't anyone, Christian. It was my friend, someone I had confided in when I should never had been talking about your struggles to begin with." She strokes my face with damp fingers and chokes on a sob. "Please forgive me, baby boy. I'm so sorry."

She's sorry? She's sorry? No, this isn't what I wanted to happen. I don't want them to feel guilt!

"No, mom, please. Hear me, if you blame yourself it will only make this worse for all of us." She looks at me and hiccups.

"I thought you were gay." We smile sadly at each other before she begins to cry again. "How long did this go on?"

"A few years, until I left Harvard and moved back." Awareness lights her face and I see the glass shake in my father's grip.

"Lincoln. That's why he beat her so badly."

"Yes though I wasn't the only one she had had affairs with." My dad says nothing, just stands and stares ahead waiting for the bombs to keep dropping.

"You let her touch you?" Fresh tears fall from her eyes.

"Not on my chest or back, it was never different for anyone until Anastasia came along."

"And Ana knows about this?" My father's voice is demanding.

"Yes."

"And that's why you reacted the way you did at dinner last week. Because she knows Ana knows. She came to the house to stir up shit and you knew it." Always the attorney.

"Yes." He shoots his drink back and walks over to pour more. My mother holds my hand and stares blankly at my face.

"You said she hit you and then kissed you. Was it always harsh, Christian?" I had decided before they came over that the details of the type of sex could be kept private between Ana, Elliot and myself and I choose now to keep that to myself. There is no benefit to her knowing but I have to give her enough of the truth so that she has it from me. I want to bridge this gap and the truth is the only way to do that.

"Yes, there was always an element about it that was harsh. We were never…lovers. There was no affection or love. It was sex."

"Manipulative sex. She's a god damn pedophile and she's been in our home and in our lives for 14 god damned years since this shit happened." He turns and points at me, his finger shaking with rage. "You should have told us right away. You should have never kept something like this from us, Christian. We're your parents! For years, years we've analyzed and dissected and evaluated what we could do to get you to join us. How we could engage you and be a part of your world but nothing we did would ever penetrate that because THIS was always in the way."

He paces and sits his glass down, wiping at the corners of his lips and then rounding on me. I stand, ready for whatever he throws at me.

"I want to know what we do now. She victimized my son! My son for god's sake! You have to have a plan in place, you always do. I want to know what it is." I'm shocked still by his acceptance of me even after knowing this garbage. His rage is not at me but at Elena.

"Dad, Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry I lived this isolated life under the fear of being found out. I'm sorry to blindside you like this but most of all, I'm sorry it ever happened."

"You were a kid. A fucked up kid but a kid nonetheless." He pounds his drink back and takes another, this time filling his glass all the way with shaking hands. "Do you know how much you missed out on because you believed her lies? That we'd hate you and leave you? Years! She stole years from us. From you! We're your parents! Nothing you do can change that, nothing you do will make us stop loving you, nothing you do will force you from our lives!"

My mom is quiet, tears running down her face and onto her white sundress. I'm torn between wanting to explain myself and begging them to not blame themselves.

"We should have seen it." She stares ahead blankly again, twisting a tissue in her hands until it's nothing more than shreds. "I'm trained to look for it in children. My baby." Her shoulders shake and she cries again but this time my father holds her and strokes her hair, whispering soft words into her ears.

"He's still your baby, Grace. We'll get through this and be stronger for it. Now we know, now we know."

And then I do something I've never done, not in the 25 years I've been their son. I fall to my knees and kneel in front of them and let them hug me while my mom cries and my dad pats my back. It hurts, it burns, it feels like a physical manifestation of my fears but I offer them this, me. Plain and simple me for the very first time. I don't feel like a CEO, I don't feel like a grown man. I just...feel.

"Let me hold you, Christian, please." She stands and pulls me up, resting her head against my sternum, soaking my shirt with her tears while her hands wrap around my waist and tighten with her sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Is all she says, each apology sinking in my stomach.

"Mom, please don't be sorry. I don't blame you at all, please!"

"I'm sorry you were molested. I'm sorry you went through that." She snorts in a cry and sobs out one word that resonates above the rest. "Alone."

I had been alone for so long that the word had lost its meaning. Just another series of letters with a definition attached but now it means something different. A forced separation from my family. A sense of failure even though by all outward appearances I was on top of the world. An inability to connect and enjoy the people in my life.

Alone.

Inside I begin to mourn for the four year old boy in the dirty Detroit apartment. I feel the sting my rejection must have felt like to my parents. I feel the oppression of a teenage rebellion born out of fear and loss. But mostly, I feel grief for all that could have been and all that can never be. I have been a victim of others and of my own doing.

"Your plan, Christian. Why now? There must be a plan and I want in on it." My mom is still hanging on to me for dear life but I let her, patting her bony shoulders every now and then for reassurance. My dad is pissed to learn that I think there may be another child involved and quickly fires off names of detectives he thinks should look into the case. It takes another few minutes to convince him to call off the dogs and allow my team to continue to work. He only relents when I explain that we're looking to put her away for life, not for a few years.

"Right now, Dad, I just want you to me my dad." He inhales sharply and nods.

"I want to be there when they take her down. Give me that, son." Son.

"Yes, I will do my best to make that happen but you should know that my intention is to never have my name associated with this. I want this to end here, tonight."

"Is there anything else we need to know? Are there more of my friends?" She choked on the last word but exhales when I shake my head. "Just Elena then?"

"Yes, mom. There have been other women but none in that capacity." Her sobs have turned to choked hiccups while her body shudders every few minutes with little tremors. Broken, she seems so broken. We stand like this in silence for a long time. I know they have a million questions but the little I've told them is enough to take in so we remain quiet. I just need to be with Ana right now, this is too intense. My dad is the first to speak.

"Why now, son? Why tell us now?" Grace pulls away and sits again, her face a blotchy mess. The sight breaks my heart, the one Elena convinced me I didn't have.

"Because I want to be a part of our family. I'm tired of living with this secret, I'm tired of always waiting for it to be exposed. When Ana came along, she opened my eyes to how much I've missed out on over the years and between she and Flynn, I came to realize two things. One, there is far more to me than my…sexuality and two, my secrets have strangled the life that I want."

"You're so brave." She whispers and rises, cupping my face in hers and kissing my cheek. "You were always so brave, even as a little boy. I didn't give birth to you, Christian but I couldn't love you or Elliot or Mia more than I do. You three are my life, you always have been, you always will be."

My father comes to stand next to her, resting his hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eyes. His are swimming with emotion and burning with an intensity I've never seen from him before.

"You don't carry my DNA but you carry my name and my heart. You have always been loved by your family and you always will be. We'll continue this conversation I'm sure but for now, it's time to wrap this up. I need to get your mother home and you need to find that angel of yours." His voice cracks at the end and my heart splits in two.

His hug is unexpected and awkward but he doesn't let go until I've hugged him back, patting him on the shoulder. "Love you, son." Is all he can manage to whisper out before he turns and walks out towards the elevators.

"Mia? Does Mia know?"

"No, just Elliot. I'd like to keep it this way too, mom. I don't want Mia knowing but Elliot, I just, I needed to start somewhere. Maybe one day I'll tell her but for now, I want to keep it from her."

"Thank you for telling us. Just, give us time to process this." Her voice catches but she pushes on. "I know you don't want me to feel guilty but you have to let me apologize to you. Please. Christian, let me have your forgiveness." My eyes burn with the threat of tears.

"Forgiving you makes it seem like there was wrong doing on your part and there wasn't mom. I don't hold you responsible in any way, I never have."

"Please, just say it. I need to hear it." I sigh heavily and hug her tight.

"I forgive you. Now will you forgive me?"

"Yes. Not for the abuse, that's not yours to carry. But from keeping it from me." She pats my back, between my shoulders three times and then walks out slowly. The apartment is quiet as we wait by the lift and when it pings, the noise startles all of us.

"Please thank Ana for dinner, it was lovely to have you all to ourselves. I love you, Christian, no matter how this all plays out, remember that. I love you."

"I love you too, mom. I'm sorry I've not said often." The realization is crushing. She hugs me again and walks onto the elevator, leaning against the back wall to wait for my father who looks at me and hugs me again, patting me in the same spot between my shoulders. I fight with every shred of my being not to react but the relief has to be written on my face when he pulls back.

"We'll get through this, son. So long as we have each other and we fight like hell, we'll get through this."

The silver doors shut leaving me with only my reflection. I see a man, tall, strong and well dressed but I feel like a child, anxious that he's just disappointed his parents. The shame I feel may as well hang around my neck like a yoke. It was the right thing to do but it was the hardest thing I've ever done. They know. I feel sick and heavy and filled with regret.

"Christian?" I say nothing but I turn and go to her without meeting her eyes, lifting her and wrapping her legs around my waist while I carry her to the bedroom. Without a word I lift the dress over her head and she unsnaps her bra and then helps me out of my clothes in frenzied haste.

"Skin, I need to feel your skin." I say breathlessly into her neck while I kick off my pants. There isn't time for anything but her right now. I don't remember taking our underwear off, I don't remember lifting her onto the bed or wrapping her legs around me but the minute I bury myself inside of her soft heat I feel comfort in my soul. Safety, truth, tenderness, familiarity. So long as I have Anastasia and we have this, I can survive anything.