Hey guys, here goes, I'm a little nervous about this. But it was time. I'm having friends from out of town in for five days, so the next update might be delayed. I'm going to try to keep writing but... well what you gonna do.

Special not: had a guest ask me if this was a cheating story. No, no my Christian would pretty much chew his own arm off and beat himself to death with it before he'd cheat on Ana. And as far as Ana goes - again no. Stan and Maurice she has genuine fondness for, but they're mainly around to drive Christian nuts. They will both get their own stories later. I already have someone in mind for Maurice, as he's turned out to be one of my fav's. Also for those who, like me, think Jose' deserves his own love muffin. yes, he gets a sugar plum. I've got one of E.l.'s original characters lined up for him. It won't happen till the very end, but I think it will be pretty fabulous.

Christian

Grey, stared across his balcony to the sleeping woman in his bed. She'd barely stirred when he'd carried her from the car to the penthouse. Only when he went to undress her did she rouse enough to say a few indecipherable disgruntled words, but as soon as he'd pulled the covers over her she was out again. She was exhausted both mentally and physically, not acceptable. The sun was setting over The Sound by the time he'd finished making arrangements that would ensure this didn't happen again. He saved Flynn for last, as the man had a knack for pissing him off. Sure enough, he'd been on the phone less than a minute and he was gritting his teeth.

"So to summarize," Flynn chortled, making no attempt to hide his amusement, "She found out about your childhood which, I'm sure you will agree was horrific. This made her sad - she cried, and I'm sorry, what was the problem?"

"No, not crying," Grey started pacing, in an effort to release his frustration, since strangling Flynn wasn't an option, "I've seen people cry. This was something else Her whole body was shaking. I thought she was going to break apart. It was horrible..."

"Grief."

"...and she wouldn't stop...what?"

"She was grieving." Flynn repeated, all amusement gone.

"Grieving?" He didn't like the sound of that.

"Grey, she has feelings for you, strong ones. It sounds to me like she was grieving for that hungry, abused little boy."

He froze in the middle of the balcony, and for the second time in as many days, he felt his surroundings zoom away, "Grief." he said the word, but there was no sound. He was in a vacuum where all was silent except the blood rushing in his head. The sunset swayed. No, that was him. He stumbled, the balcony spun under his feet. His legs gave out just as he made it to that chaise lounge he'd never sat on. His lungs burned, his chest ached.

"Grey, I can hear you hyperventilating. Take it easy. Count down."

Shit, he knew the drill. He counted down from ten, still had no air. So he tried twenty, didn't work. Remembering Ana's advice, he looked at his feet and tried thirty. Gradually air returned. The balcony stopped spinning.

"Shit." he ran a shaking hand over his face, nausea threatening.

"What happened?" Flynn's voice had gone to the carefully neutral tone of the therapist. Damn that pissed him off more than the amusement.

"How the fuck should I know?" He was shivering, his body coated in a fine sweat, "You're the one I'm paying to figure this shit out."

"I'll work up a theory." And now the man's voice was dry as dust, "We'll discuss it at your next appointment."

"I'll look forward to it." Jack-ass. "Look, all I need to know is how to prevent this in the future.

"Prevent this in the future?" Flynn's smirk was back.

Damn, he wanted to reach through the phone and knock that smirk off his face. He swallowed his nausea down instead, "Yes."

"Women cry, Grey. This can't be a new phenomenon for you. Perhaps it was the effect on you that was different."

"Hell, yes it was different. It scared the shit out of me..." and ripped his heart out of his chest, but that he wasn't willing to share, "I thought she was going to fly apart. She was shaking. I'm telling you ..."

"Grey, as difficult as it is for you to accept, there are things in life you can not control – like the tides, the earth's rotation around the sun. I think we can safely add other people's expressions of sorrow."

"No! no, way will I accept that this is a regular thing." It was survival, plain and simple.

"I didn't say it was regular. She's been through a lot recently, this was probably accumulative. I'm not your best source in this situation. You need to talk to people who know her, or you could do something really radical and talk to her."

"She's sleeping."

"Well, unless she's pricked her finger on a magic spindle, she will eventually wake."

"Funny."

"My daughter's in a sleeping beauty phase."

He hit 'End' with way more force than needed and slid the phone in his pocket, heading for the shower. He hadn't made it off the balcony before it vibrated again. He yanked it out, checked the number and his jaw locked up, "Wyatt, this better be good..."

"Thomas Reynolds is dead." The bald statement had the chill on his skin seeping into his bones.

"What the fuck?"Grey sat back down, the chaise getting more use today than it had in his four years of residence.

"Don't know much yet. He was found this morning. No obvious cause of death," Stan's voice was distant. Grey knew that tone, "What are you not saying."

"Look, I don't know anything, but it looks to me like somebody's cleaning house."

Wyatt went on to say that had the sesame seed not killed him, Malik would have likely met an unfortunate end inside the prison walls. Grey didn't doubt his theory for a minute. Stan's instincts were finely honed. Supposedly, his time in DC had been as a lobbyist for his family's construction division. That was bullshit. Grey knew he had worked for several government agencies, still did. Stanford Wyatt hid a laser sharp mind behind all that smarmy charm.

"What about Miss McGovern, have you run any of this by her?" The woman might be insane, but there was no doubting her brilliance.

Stan hesitated, "Well, she's what you might call unavailable at the moment."

"What the hell's that mean?"

"It means Mckenna needed sleep and, like I said, she's obsessive, not to mention just plain stubborn, so her sisters drugged her.

"You're shitting me?"

"Nope, She'll be out for at least twenty-four hours. I told you man they're bat-shit, every one of them."

The heat of the shower shocked his chilled skin, placing his hands on tile not yet warmed by the spray he leaned into the scalding water, letting it run over him until the chills eased. He felt raw...exposed, as if the rigid walls of control he'd become accustomed to were fracturing from the inside out. The part of him that was born in hunger and fear screamed at him to shore up those walls, but instinctively knew to do so would be to lose Ana, so no way was that happening. No, the walls that had been slowly crumbling since the first time he'd touched her, had to fall. He had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side, but as long as Ana was with him when he got there, he didn't give a shit.

"Adonis?" The small hoarse whisper wrapped around him, warming places the scalding water couldn't reach. He turned to see her in one of his tee-shirts, sleep rumpled and soft. Her eyes puffy from her tears. The raw places inside him throbbed with need.

"Hey there, kitten."

"Hi." She bit down on that bottom lip her eyes raking over him. He heard a little intake of breath, and was vain enough to feel damn good about the lust he saw in her eyes. Until they rested on his chest, and the bruised look come back. The scars. She saw the scars.

He was struggling past his own torment for a way to comfort her, when she reached down and pulled off the shirt, distracting him with sweet, succulent, naked skin. Without a word, she stepped into the shower. Facing him, she reached down and pulled his hands and hers behind her back. Her solemn eyes on his, brimming with emotion. Then slowly, giving him time to protest, she lowered her lips to his chest, and he understood. He shifted her wrists, holding them behind her with one hand while burying the other in the hair at her nape.

When it came, the touch of her lips was fleeting, barely there. His head fell back, and he felt every one of those light as air kisses that terrified and healed, one on each of the round scars. Then he felt her rise up. He looked down into eyes that still sparkled with tears for him, as with deliberate tenderness, she stepped into him, pressing her soft warm body to his. Deep rooted fear demanded he push her away, but it was no match for his excruciating need. So that even as his body shuddered, his arms tightened around her.

Then he felt little puffs of air, her lips at his throat, "I love you, Christian Grey."

And his fractured walls crumbled to dust.

Ana

He tugged her head back, she looked into stormy eyes raging with emotions she knew he struggled to understand.

"Ana, kitten, I.."

"Ssh." she cut off his words with the touch of her lips. She didn't want him speaking words he wasn't ready for. Adonis accepting her touch was a gift - so very precious. It humbled and awed her, broke her heart and remade it. She could give him nothing less than the truth in return, "Is this alright?" she whispered, though she ached to be close to him, she never wanted to cause him more pain, "Do you need me to step away?"

"No," a fierce whisper and his arms tightened even more. "No, stay. Stay with me Ana..." a haunted breath at her temple, his lips resting there. They stood like that, two bodies melded into one, until the water began to cool.

Adonis carried her out of the shower, setting her down on the heated marble floor. In reverent silence he reached for a towel dried them both, then picked her back up in his arms and carried her back to bed. Tucking the silk coverlet around their naked bodies, he curled himself around her back, just before she drifted off she felt his hoarse whisper in her ear, "Mine."

"Yes," she smiled into her pillow,"Yours."

She woke up in a tangle of arms and legs, a heavy weight at her back. Tilting her head, she saw a silky mop of copper curls framing perfectly sculpted features, the vulnerability of sleep reveling echos of the boy he'd been. She lifted a hand and traced one of his ever arching brows. Last night she'd told him she loved him with no expectations. And even now, in the cold light of day, she had not a smidgen of regret. Last night Adonis had given her his trust, she was happy to give him honesty in return.

Though part of her longed to lay in bed and soak in sight of the man sleeping next to her, another part of her, the part that needed the bathroom in the worst way, demanded she get on with it. She tried to wiggle out from underneath the arm and leg thrown over her, but with an adorable frown, and a grumpy grunt his arm tightened. There was no way to keep the smile from her face - bossy man, even in sleep.

Well, she needed to pee so he'd have to make do. She pulled off a pretty remarkable rolling slump out of the bed, and made for the bathroom. After taking care of the necessary, she went to brush her teeth and that's when she caught her reflection, and the reality of the day before smacked her right in her red-nosed, bleary-eyed, puffed up face.

She'd collapsed at graduation.

Holy. Shit.

Adonis had carried out of her own Graduation like she was some tragic heroine from a classic novel. And while in 16th century literature that was hopelessly romantic, in modern-day, real life it was plain old hopeless with a touch of pathetic ninny thrown in. With rushed movements she washed her face, anxious to leave her reflection and the haggard evidence of her pathetic ninny ninny-ness behind.

After locating her luggage that was once again right where she needed it. Gods had very dependable minions. She dressed in the same skin-tight sweat-suit. Jose' would have a fit, but he wasn't here. She headed for the kitchen and the distraction making a nice breakfast would provide. She had to admit to being very proud of her biscuit making ability. Maybe not on par with Sue's but they were good all the same. After a brief call to Ray, in which he'd let it slip she was making biscuits, Kate and Jose' shouted from the background they'd be over for breakfast. She spent half a second wondering what they were all doing up and together well before 8:00 am, but then her mind entered the baking zone and forced everything else out.

"Oh, Miss Steele, good morning."

She spun around, holding the hot tray of biscuits she'd just pulled from the oven to see Mrs Jones. Oh right, she'd forgotten about the chic housekeeper, "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not imposing."

"Not at all. Those look heavenly."

"Thanks."

"Ms. Jones, have you seen Ana?" Adonis came into the kitchen looking sleepy and rumpled and so perfectly edible, in a tee-shirt and jeans, with...oh sweet lord.. the top button undone. She saw when he stretched his arms over his head. He was in mid-stretch when his eyes found her, and the look on his face turned to pure smoldering sin. She reminded herself not to drool, there'd be no way to wipe it from her chin, what with her holding the hot pan.

"Good Morning, Ms. Jones" Adonis' eyes never left her, "I won't need you this morning."

"Very good Mr. Grey. I have some shopping to do, " Ms. Jones' response was cool courtesy, but Ana caught the tug of a smile on her lips as she turned away.

"Good morning." A little breathless squeak of a sound.

"Good morning," he crooked a finger at her, "Come here, kitten."

Oh no, she knew that voice... and look... and finger crook, and as tempting as he was, she was in the zone, "No."

"No?" one brow shot up.

"No, you'll distract me."

"Distract you?" There went the second brow.

"I'm making breakfast."

"Hmm," The brows came down. He tilted his head and gave her a hot, narrow-eyed stare, "I think I'll just have you for breakfast."

Oh, sweet mercy. That snake in the garden had nothing on Adonis. She held the hot pan in front of her like a shield and tried to remember why that was a very bad idea. She glanced at the kitchen clock, ten minutes after eight. They were about to be descended upon by Ray and a hungry Kate and Jose', "Ray will be here any minute."

Adonis froze. Yep, a girl's Dad showing up at your front door - definitely a mood killer.

"He is?" Adonis' face fell..Oh... now that was just plain cute.

"Yes, along with Kate and Jose' and possibly Jose' senior. They were all up really early..." Once again her mind pondered the improbability of Kate and Jose' up before 8:00 am.

"Shall I butter the biscuits?" Adonis grabbed a dish towel, took the pan from her and turned to the breakfast bar, already set up like a Buffet. People could help themselves and then sit at the dining table and... wait a minute...that was way too easy.

She walked over to him. Leaning her hip on the counter, she crossed her arms, raised a brow... and waited. This tactic worked so well for him, she thought she'd try it out. Problem was, he refused to look at her. Focusing all his attention, he broke open a fluffy biscuit, picked up the butter knife, scooped up some of whipped honey butter, and slathered it on the steaming surface. All of this was done with the care and attention one might give say... if one was performing brain surgery.

Oh, yeah, something was up.

"Adonis?"

He picked up another biscuit, "Hmmmm?"

That 'hhmm', packed with innocent nonchalance, was a dead give away, "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." he went on with his careful butter slathering.

"Adonis, you should know, innocent is not something you can pull off."

She saw the corner of his smile, "No?"

"No."

"These biscuits look scrumptious," and before she could grab it out of his hand, he took a huge bite,"Mmm." he turned to face her, making a big deal of chewing.

"Oh, honestly, you are just..." she couldn't come up with a word so she stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned and kept right on chewing. Fine, it just wasn't worth it, at least she hoped not. Abandoning her get-Adonis-to-fess-up campaign, she pulled the eggs from the fridge, spinning around to see him watching her, his face a strange mix of amused and wary, and damn, even that looked gorgeous on him.

Half her snort was out before she remembered it was item #1 on her 'things to lose' list. Oh, well. So, what. Who the hell cared. Aaaand fuck it! A girl had to have a vice.

She turned her back on him and his biscuit, placing the carton of eggs on the counter next to the stove, and though it was way more consideration than Mr. Sneaky deserved, she asked, "How do you like your eggs?"

She got no answer.

Oh, for fuck's sake, how long could a man pretend to chew? She spun around, threw her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to say something really good and snarky...but "Holy shit!" came out instead.

"Adonis!" she rushed across the small space to the man who was bent in half, hands braced on his knees, strange rasping sounds coming from his throat.

"Adonis, are you choking?" Oh God, could she even do the Heimlich, "I'm getting Taylor."

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He shook his head. Okay, so he wasn't choking. Thank Goodness. She thought she heard a harsh intake of breath. She remembered Stinky and the sesame seed. Oh shit, "Adonis, are you allergic?"

Another shake of his head.

That's when her panic ebbed enough so her mind could work, "Panic attack?"

A nod this time.

"Okay," relief flooded her, this she could handle, "I'm going to get you a stool. She took a couple of steps toward the other side of the bar where the stools were lined up,l, but was restrained by Adonis's white knuckle grip on her wrist.

"Adonis," she pitched her voice low and soothing, "Can you let go..."

A violent head shake.

Okay, so that was a no, "Alright then, I'm just going to stand here beside you ..."

That got her a jerky nod, and another shuddering breath.

With a gentle hand, she stroked her fingers through his silky hair. Poor Adonis, what had happened in his childhood to make him so afraid of eating eggs.

Christian

Christian looked down at his bare feet and tried to get air back into his lungs. Damn, Stan sure as shit didn't mention this. Yes, learning Ana loved him had scared him, but that was nothing nothing compared to the overwhelming, paralyzing, gut wrenching fear that had hit him when she asked him how he wanted his eggs.

He loved her.

SHIT! SHIT! OH HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

He loved her. Holy Mother of God, how he loved her. It swelled inside his chest till there was room for nothing else, least of all air. Somewhere in the dizzying spin of chaos rioting through his brain, it registered that Stan's Dad was dead on. As long as Ana was sitting across that table from him, he didn't give a flying fuck what she did with the eggs – he'd eat them scrambled, fried, poached, boiled, and hell yes, raw.

She had to stay. If she ever left it would kill him. Just the thought of it had him shaking like a leaf. How could he keep her. She loved him, yes but he was an ass, it was only a matter of time before she figured that out. He had to tie her to him before she did. His mind groped for a solution. Then as if by magic, the answer burst through his panic like a lightning bolt.

Marriage.

He'd marry her. Of course. She loved him. He loved her. So simple. Women loved all that wedding nonsense. Mia already had a giant scrapbook with her wedding planned out. Ana must have one somewhere. Jose'. He'd need to talk to Jose' . He'd know how to get his hands on it. But he needed to do it soon, before she changed her mind about loving him.

And as he went about the familiar pattern of planning the way to get what he wanted, his panic eased, breath returned. He straightened, rolled his shoulders and took in a lungful of biscuit scented air. Finding he was more relaxed than he'd been in weeks, he smiled down into the face of the woman he loved, "Scrambled."

"What?" Those huge blue eyes blinked at him.

He kissed the little worry line in her forehead, "The eggs, kitten." Then dropping a kiss to her open mouth, he told the woman with whom he'd spend the rest of his mornings how he liked his eggs, "Scrambled... with cheese."