March 23, 2012

"Sir, the car is ready." Taylor stood by the door to Christian's office and watched as he systematically shut off his three computer screens. He looks like shit. When Gail sees him she's going to go bull shit on me for not telling her sooner how bad he looks.

A month of rigorous and constant training coupled with a lack luster appetite and Grey's ability to stay awake for days at a time had lent itself to this. A man who was the physical embodiment of depressed. Everyone had noticed it of course but it had been Grace who had put the pieces of the puzzle together over dinner for Elliot's birthday last week.

"She left him didn't she?" she'd said with tears in her eyes the second she could get Taylor alone in the kitchen. "I knew something was wrong when he stopped communicating again but I was hoping it didn't have anything to do with Ana and then Carrick said the deal in Mexico was dead and I know he's got some issues with the whole Ukrainian deal on top of it all."

"Russia."

"Excuse me?"

"Russia. His deal in Russia has hit a few snags." It was just enough of an interruption for her to realize that she'd been babbling and to also realize that there was no way in hell Jason Taylor was going to tell her anything. So she'd cornered Elliot with a look that still made him afraid and threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't tell her just what the hell was going on.

"They broke up, mom."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago." Either Christian kills me or mom kills me but either way I'm dead for even talking about this.

"A few weeks ago, Elliot! How could you not tell me! He looks devastated and haggard and my God I'm pretty sure he's lost weight."

"He is devastated and obviously he's upset about it but he's working through it."

"How?" Grace barked. "Christian doesn't work through anything he just fills in the issue with something else." She took three paces away and turned back around to her oldest son. "Answer me Elliot Grey and do it now!"

"He's seeing Flynn daily, sometimes twice and he's exercising a lot to get rid of the nervous energy."

"What about sleep?"

"Mom come on, you know I don't want to sell him out,"

"Elliot Graham Grey you listen to me," she interrupted with a small hiss. "He looks terrible. Absolutely terrible and I watched him eat tonight. He barely tasted anything because that roast was damn good and he just pushed it around. His eyes are tired and sad, Elliot. I want to know what happened."

"Then you'll need to ask him." And thank fuck just at that moment Christian had come around the corner to use the bathroom because what was he supposed to tell their mother? Your son got carried away with a belt?

It had taken all of Christian's restraint to fend off Grace's concern but he'd done it with the respect his mother deserved. A few well-placed nods, two promises to eat better and a quick hug had given her enough access to soothe her anxiety for the moment. Grace had called every day after that, sometimes to check in, sometimes to babble on about nothing just so she could remind Christian that she was there and while he wasn't about to sit down and tell her everything, her intrusion did somehow bring him a modicum of peace.

It had been getting tiresome, living at Elliot's and finally Flynn had called him out on his cowardice and had told him the next step was for him to go home. Which is why when Taylor shut the door to the Audi as they left GEH and turned left Christian called his name and told him to head to Escala instead. It was time to move forward with life even if his heart was insisting on staying in the past.

Jason fired off a quick text to Gail and then another to Sawyer so that he knew to gather The Boss's things from Elliot's and then sat back to mentally prepare himself for the certain nightmares that would occur tonight.

In the foyer they stood there in silence as Christian stared at the white door until Grey pushed it open and walked in to find Gail waiting with a smile and an impromptu dinner.

"Gail it's eleven at night, you didn't have to wait to serve me."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, waving a kitchen towel towards the breakfast bar where she'd laid out three place settings and a bottle of Christian's favorite wine. "It was a quick meal to throw together and I've missed your presence here terribly. I can only clean the same spotless floor so many times," she tutted.

"Three settings?" Christian asked as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie.

"For Mr. Taylor and myself if you'd like." She went about her business and plated up the spaghetti bolognaise she'd prepared. She simply couldn't bear the thought of him eating alone in this cavernous kitchen.

"If you're ok eating at this hour, I'd be happy to have you join me." And he was happy because sitting here alone, at the very same counter he'd laid Ana out on just a few weeks ago, would have been very, very difficult.

They made idle chit chat, Jason's apprehension slowly fading as he watched The Boss smile for the first time in weeks as he listened to Gail go on about the gossip in the building. The truth was, not one of them cared about the neighbors at all but the mention of their shared home made Christian feel less alone and right now, that was exactly what he needed.

Hit by a wave of exhaustion so strong he rested his head in his hands and excused himself giving Gail a sweet kiss on her forehead, a simple 'Thank you' the last thing he said before making his way to the bedroom.

It was as he had left it except for the fact that the sheets had been changed. For a moment he just stood in the dark room and let the emptiness wash over him. He'd spent hundreds of nights by himself in this room but never had he felt as lonely as he did at that moment.

Swallowing back the profound sense of loss he undressed and brushed his teeth, his gaze never falling on the small personal items Ana had left behind in her haste to leave. Not that there was a lot, she'd made sure of that for some reason but the things that were there were intimate. A toothbrush, her lotion, the razor that hung in the shower next to the shampoo she loved.

The bed was as comfortable as it had always been but it offered no comfort to its weary inhabitant. Instead Christian laid on his side and stared at the black and white picture hanging across the room as the cavity in his chest split open and left him gasping.

She'd left him. Left him and then had stayed away for a month now. No phone calls, no texts, no emails, not even a god damned letter. Anastasia, his Ana had walked out of his life as unexpectedly as she'd entered it. There was no warmth emanating from the spot next to him, no scent of her perfume, no soft breath to ease him to sleep. He was utterly and totally alone and with a sweeping force the darkness of the last few weeks closed in around him until he couldn't take another second in that ridiculously large bed.

Taylor was in the great room waiting for him but Christian shook his head and walked past him. "Thank you, Taylor but it's two in the morning. I'll be fine alone."

"Sir, I would feel,"

"Alone, Jason. I'll want to run at six as usual but tonight I want to be alone." As an afterthought he turned at the door and rubbed his temple. "I appreciate you wanting to help me but I just need to be by myself."

He'd not driven his car since the night Ana had told him that she didn't trust him, the reminder of that evening twisting in his gut as he navigated the Spyder through the empty streets of Seattle until he'd reached his destination.

It was a small house. Tiny really but Ana had loved it enough to put an offer on it this afternoon. Just another nail in the coffin that housed their relationship. He'd had that at least. The apartment with her belongings inside of it and he'd clung to that tie as if it meant everything. Turns out it didn't because right here in front of him was a light blue house that she would make her own and he would never set foot in.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small eat in kitchen and a living room. Tiny and unassuming and soon to be hers. The media had all but stopped trying to get a picture of them together at this point but when they found out that she bought this, it would ignite a whole new level of curiosity.

He'd have to force security on her whether she wanted it or not and damn it to hell she could fight him all she wanted but her life was worth far more than what he wanted so if she never spoke to him again, so be it but this house was getting a security system like no other. All it would take was one story of their breakup and the press would camp out on her lawn until they'd gotten their story.

But tonight it was dark and empty and isolated. Much like Christian Grey himself. With the purr of the engine he pulled back onto the street and drove until he saw the porch light for Becca's house where Ana slept. He cut the lights and parked, his heart hurting just knowing she was so close and yet so far away. What would she do if she caught him like this? Did it even matter at this point or was all of his effort with Flynn and the impossible task of staying away just a waste of time and energy?

How much longer until she reached out to him? His stomach dropped. What if she never did?

I should go. But he didn't. Instead he put on the music mix Ana had made him for Christmas and settled back against the leather headrest to listen to the sultry smooth voice of the woman he loved sing about love lost. It was the closest they'd been in weeks but as the song died and a new one began the frustrated longing became too much.

Tires squealing he left the quiet side street and made his way back to Escala where Taylor was dutifully waiting in the garage for him.

"It's three in the morning, T."

Jason nodded once and waited as The Boss sat back on the hood of his car. "Yes it is. Gail makes a strong coffee though."

Despite the heartache coursing through his limbs Christian chuckled and pushed off, hitting the penthouse button before Taylor could do it for him.

"Bet you never thought you'd see the day, huh?" Christian spread his arms wide and let his head fall back. "Of all the shit you've seen over the years I bet me pining over a woman never even crossed your mind."

"Sir, with all due respect, it was bound to happen. It was just a matter of the right woman coming along."

With that Christian stopped and took his CPO in. "So me and Ms. Steele, we didn't surprise you?"

"I didn't say that," Jason joked as the doors opened into the spacious great room of Christian's apartment. The Boss stood still, clearly waiting to hear more so Taylor humored him. This is what Flynn wanted, right? More conversations. At least that's what he'd heard The Boss tell Elliot last week.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Jason," Christian started, waving his hand towards the dark windows behind him. "It's past two am. I just lived with my big brother for a month because I was too much of a pussy to come back to my home and you just tracked me sitting outside of Anastasia's house. We are way past permission here."

"Point taken." Jason smiled. He may not see it but The Boss had come a long way in four weeks. Hell, the last two weeks especially. "You think poorly of yourself. Always have. I don't know your history but I know enough to get the gist of what you went through. I've seen a number of women walk through these doors and even more who kept you company for just a night and not one of them ever felt disrespected or degraded or humiliated by you. What you do in that room upstairs doesn't excite me but it doesn't scare me either because at the heart of it all, you're a good guy."

"Jason,"

"You are. I know more about you than anyone except your shrink and even he thinks you're a good guy. Hell, Gail loves you to death and she hardly likes anyone!" Taylor adjusted his stance and ran a hand over his buzz cut. This was so uncomfortable but he'd been waiting far too long to say what he had to say to stop now. "I don't agree with some of the things you had us do to Ms. Steele but I know your motivations and those are hard to argue with. Especially when I see the other side of things and read the death threats and shit like that."

"My…spying was a small part of why she left, Jason." Converse. Relax. Listen and share. Flynn could go to hell for making him do this shit. But outside of Elliot there was only Jason, Gail and Andrea that Christian felt he could trust so, well, by default this was where this whole friendship thing had to start. "I was a jealous dick who exerted control in every area of her life even when she begged me not to."

"Yeah well your jealousy stems from your low self-worth. If you believed in yourself you'd be confident enough to let that shit go. You'd love yourself enough to believe that someone else could love you too and you wouldn't always feel as if you were about to lose her. As for your control, you're used to controlling everything. That's how your world works and there's nothing wrong with that in almost every facet of your day. But trying to control a person, that never works out. It's akin to someone who keeps a dog on a very short, very tight leash. That dog is going to struggle against its restraints and pull and pull until eventually the leash snaps at which point the dog takes off at a breakneck run."

"Are you calling Anastasia a dog?" Christian laughed.

"No, I'm telling you that letting go of the leash was probably a really hard thing to do but it was the right thing to do too. She'll come around, Boss."

Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes Christian grunted and fell back onto the couch. He was so tired, so emotionally drained that just walking to the bedroom seemed monumental.

"When? What's the time frame on that, T because I asked Elliot and he's got no clue and Flynn just keeps telling me to stop focusing on getting back with Ana and start focusing on getting healthy."

"Well, I can't tell you when she'll come back but I can tell you that despite your animosity towards your shrink, he's right. If Ms. Steele comes back and the issues that forced her to leave have stayed the same, she's only going to leave again."

"I know," Christian huffed out on a long exhale, the weariness settling into his limbs.

"I will say that perhaps it would be ok to have her guitar sent to her by messenger. I'm sure she would like to have it for her show next month."

At that Christian sat up straight and studied his CPO carefully. "You think that would be a good idea?"

"So long as that's all you send over, yes. Technically it's hers anyway."

Suddenly the night didn't seem so bleak anymore. "Have Andrea arrange transport for tomorrow. They'll need to bring it to her studio since I don't know her schedule after work anymore."

I do. Home. She goes home or to her shrink just like you. Every day, even Saturdays. Taylor nodded once and said goodnight, pausing at the door to his quarters when he heard the strains of the piano as The Boss played some macabre song. I have not missed waking up to this every night.

"Six am, Taylor!"

March 24, 2012

"Delivery for a Ms. Anastasia Steele. I'll need someone to sign for it." Becca took the man's pen and signed for the oversized package before thinking to check for a return address.

"Shit," she mumbled when the GEH logo came into view. Too late now. "Ana! Something's here for you!" she yelled down the hallway.

Pulling on a jean jacket Ana made her way into the living room where the oversized box stood and stopped dead in her tracks. There was only one person who would have sent that and as much as she missed him, she was far from ready to deal with anything related to Christian Grey.

"Do you want me to get the guy? He's probably still in the driveway."

"No, it's fine. I'll deal with it when I get home." Swinging her bag onto her shoulder she took one last look and flung the door open. "I've got bigger fish to fry right now."

"Good luck!" Becca called after her. "Don't let him railroad you!"

An hour and a half later, seated at a non-descript diner in a small town in rural Washington Ana Steele stood and greeted both of her parents with a wary smile and a heartbeat as fast as a hummingbirds.

"Baby," Carla started, automatically smoothing Ana's tresses down her back as she hugged and kissed her only daughter. "You lost weight!"

"A little," Ana conceded. "Not much but don't worry, I've recently discovered Binghams Peppermint ice cream and I can't get enough."

"You're alone." More a statement than a question Ray sat after their greeting and immediately ordered his usual black coffee, extra hot.

More than you know, she thought, sliding into the booth while her mother caught her up on the family gossip. Guilt had been riding her hard for the weeks she'd been avoiding her parents but the last thing she wanted to do was hear what Raymond Steele had to say about her life, especially if it was going to be 'I told you so'.

"We've missed you, Annie. I expect you to call your mother at least three times a week. In fact I'm pretty sure that was the agreement when we let you move to Seattle."

"Well, dad, you bring up a good starting point to a conversation I need to have with you." Girding up courage as the waitress took their orders, Ana mentally went over the checklist she and Dr. Kincaid had put together at their last session.

"You keep focusing on your breakup," Grace had said. "When you really need to just focus on why you let yourself get to a place where you were comfortable handing control of your life over to another individual."

It hadn't been fun to talk about the trauma of her past but it had been necessary. Previous years of therapy had focused on the act, the terror, the psychological damage and the loss of potential children. She'd left home, gone to college, had a boyfriend and other Doms that she'd kept her personal life from, Ana had argued but Dr. Kincaid circled it right back to Ray with every excuse.

And now here they were.

"You were saying?" Ray beckoned, grimacing at the burn from his coffee.

"I'm 23. I pay my own way and I depend on you for nothing." Shit this wasn't the way I'd practiced it. "So when you say you expect me to call three times a week, it pisses me off."

"Language!" he barked but Carla couldn't help the twitch that threatened to turn into a full on smile.

"I'll repeat. I'm 23. If I want to say pissed, I will, dad."

Ray Steele dropped his mug to the table with a clang and leaned forward to fight back but Ana would not be deterred.

"I will also call when I want and I will visit when I want. You are both more than welcome to call or visit but you cannot have expectations as to what I will do with my time or with my life." There was a tense pause as the waitress placed their breakfasts in front of them but the minute they were alone she started right back in.

It hadn't been easy to list all the ways Ray had made her feel incompetent over the years and his menacing glare wasn't exactly encouraging but she'd gone there with a promise to herself to respectfully cut that tie to parental control and she'd done just that.

"So in summary, I've come to a place in my life where I need to be alone. Not just in my love life but in all areas."

"Are you saying you don't want to talk to us anymore?" Carla's eyes widened with fear but Ana shook her head and reached for her mother's hand.

"No, she's saying she wants me to stop helping her," Ray quipped aggressively.

"No," Ana started, her father's ire just confirming that the direction she was taking was the right one. "I'm saying that while your intentions are honorable, your actions have contributed to my self-doubt. I don't want or need you out of my life, I just need to be totally clear of all influence when making decisions for awhile. Until I feel confident in my abilities and secure in my own skin."

"Sounds like psychological mumbo jumbo bull shit if you ask me."

But Ana knew why Ray was fighting her so hard on this. Her stand for independence meant he was losing his stronghold and if there was one thing Ray Steele didn't like doing, it was losing.

"I think it sounds like you know what you're doing, baby." Carla ran her thumb over Ana's knuckles and offered her a little wink.

"If I don't now, I will soon." Looking at her pouting father she had to laugh a little. He may be huge and imposing and he may have killed men in battle but he was having the equivalent of an adult temper tantrum. And she loved him for it because he may have driven her crazy, but he loved the hell out of her while he was doing it.

"I'm not cutting you out of my life, dad. I'm just setting up boundaries that are my own and not someone else's."

"And where do your mother and I fit into your boundaries?" he asked bitterly.

"Well, for one, you aren't allowed to put me down for setting up said boundaries."

Duly chastised Ray had to hand it to her, she was handling this showdown pretty well.

"Well for one it means that under no circumstance are you to call my freaking realtor to request copies of all inspections, documentations and bank loans. You're not allowed to invite yourself to my closing and you're not allowed to assume that I can't handle this on my own."

"It's a lot of money, Annie. Someone needs to ensure you're not getting taken to the cleaners."

"Do you not think I'm smart enough to figure out how to buy a house when I've employed a well respected realtor and a well respected attorney?"

"It's It means that you aren't allowed to just show up to take my car in for an oil change or schedule a family vacation without asking me. It means that when I tell you that I don't want to go come down for a visit that you won't lay a manipulative guilt trip on me about it."

"Manipulative!" he interrupted.

"Yes. Manipulative. I don't think you mean to make me feel like I'm incapable and I don't think your intention is to have me second guess myself but when you're constantly taking over and making decisions for me, that's the end result. So therefore I need to be the only one making choices for my life for a while."

"So you're cutting us out?" Ray dead panned.

"You didn't hear a word I said did you?" she sighed. "That, is what I'm talking about, Dad."

"Well I think it's great, honey. You have such a good head on your shoulders and are so smart that I'm sure this little break will be nothing but a wonderful thing in the long run."

"I'm assuming you gave this same speech to your boyfriend since he's not here. Unless of course he's the reason you're drawing this line in the sand." Controlling fuck he is.

"Ray!" Carla shouted. "Stop being a shithead."

And just like that the searing reminder that Christian wasn't around was gone, replaced by a fit of giggles at the term her mother had employed to scold her very large, very imposing, very hostile father.

"You going to open it?" Kate pointed with her fork to the large package sitting prominently in the center of the living room floor.

"I'm pretty sure it's the guitar he gave me for Christmas. My dilemma is whether or not I keep it or not."

"Um, it's like, the Rolls Royce of guitars. You keep it. Simple enough if you ask me," Becca scoffed over chicken parmesan and spaghetti. "And eat. You're beginning to look sick and you need to look hot as shit for your show."

My show. The thought sat heavily in her gut. Already there had been close to a hundred tickets purchased online through the clubs website. Was Christian one of them? Did she want him to be? Would he sit in the back or front and center?

"Have you been writing anything new yet?"

Ana shook her head and finished the glass of wine she'd been nursing for an hour now. "No. I feel stuck. I promised three new songs and I've got half of one but it's awful."

"Let's hear it," Kate pined, pouring another glass of Merlot for her friend.

"No way. It's that bad."

Becca pointed to the box again. "Bet that would help. Get drunk, tear that puppy open and let the angst fall onto the papers, baby. That's how the classics are written."

An hour later she was doing exactly that. Half-drunk from Kate's constant pouring and finally alone Ana dragged the box into her room and carefully tore the packing tape away. A note had been tucked into the fret bar, her name in Christian's masculine script emblazoned across the thick cream paper.

Later, she thought, carefully placing it onto the bed next to where she sat. With gentle fingers she lifted the guitar from its custom made carrier and laid it across her lap with reverence. In her life she'd never expected to touch a D-45 let alone own one but now it was hers. Not hers in Christian's apartment but hers and hers alone.

For a long time she just sat and started at it, this amazing work of art that also created music. The polished wood was smooth and cool beneath her fingers, the strings taut and familiar. On instinct she strummed, closed her eyes and began to tune an instrument that should only ever be played by a professional. Not her, not this half broken, half amateur, half scared little girl. When the notes were just right and the full sound of each chord rang true she sat perfectly still and relished in the feel of something so perfect in her possession.

She'd never seen Christian hold it or play it but she felt him there nonetheless and despite the anger and resentment that ebbed and flowed through her daily, all she felt now was sad. Sad that she'd finally found the courage to love and the courage to fight and that somehow those two things had torn her world apart. Why had she finally found her voice for it only to tell her to run?

Becca had been wrong. No music came, no words rushed out. When twilight gave way to the darkness of night there wasn't a single melody to be found. Just stillness and emptiness and longing. Slowly she placed the guitar back and rose to ready herself for bed. She'd traded silks and nakedness for sweats and t-shirts when she'd left Christian and tonight was no different.

On her pillow was his note, a final good-bye or a pleading beginning? Fear clawed at her chest when she opened it. Patience wasn't exactly a strong suit of his and it had been weeks since they'd spoken. Surely he was finished with her, ready to move on, ready to find someone who let him be who he wanted to be and not who he could be.

I miss you, Ana. Everything in me misses you.
Love, Christian

And before she could tamper down the soaring hope that bloomed in her heart and before she could stop the frantic beat of her heart she picked up her phone and sent him a simple reply.

I miss you too.

Kate would kill her and maybe Dr. Kincaid would too but it felt right and pure and necessary and anyway, fuck everyone else. This is my journey and my life.

His phone chimed from the top of the piano, the number new. His heart skipped a few beats, his fingers suddenly numb as the music faded. Ana had gotten a new number and though he'd been all but dying to order Walsh to find it, he'd restrained himself. Barely.

Her words glowed bright on the screen, the air rushing out of his lungs filled with a days worth of anticipation and longing. She'd responded. Instead of refusing his note and his gift she'd accepted them both and had responded.

A bridge. A beginning. A lifeline.

Four words. Not much when you consider she'd studied literature and composed her own songs but four words was better than none and far better than he'd been expecting. His fingers skated over the keys, desperate to call her, to text her, to communicate in any way she'd let him but Elliot and Taylor had told him to let her take the lead. Let her come to him.

Like a skittish animal, Elliot had explained. She told you it had to be on her terms and you need to keep it that way until she changes her mind. You hold out your hand, let her get used to you again, build up that trust by doing exactly what she asks of you.

So he would. It would rip him apart day after day to let her be but Christian would do it as long as he needed to.

Resolve making him brave he strode to his empty bed, the piano and its somber noise behind him, and rested his head on her pillow. I miss you too, she'd said. And even though he wanted so much more, for now, that was enough.