DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN FSOG TRILOGY!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me ideas for costumes for our favorite couple. Alas, I could only choose one, and I had help from the ladies on FB deciding which one our couple will wear. As always, big thanks for all who took the time to review, PM, fave, and follow:)

Mention of pedophilia! I will put *WARNING* before and *END WARNING* after. Careful reading.

Sunday (Oct. 25th)

CPOV

Ana bounces on her heels and points to a store across the street. "A Halloween store! Maybe we can get our costumes today. Come on!" Without waiting for my reply, she turns on her heels and walks back to the intersection we just crossed.

I glance longingly at a coffee shop just down the street, then to her retreating back. Resigned to wait for a cup of coffee, I follow her. Sawyer waits for me to pass, and I hear his footsteps some feet behind me. Taylor has the morning and afternoon off; he is spending it with his daughter.

Today is chilly, but Ana wanted to go for a morning walk. To breathe in the fresh air and walk off the heavy breakfast she made for us, I believe she said. She also wanted to see my neighborhood. As much as I wanted to spend the day with her in my arms in bed or the media room—have a lazy day for once—I figured seeing her smile was worth sacrificing an hour of our morning. She's been too sad the last couple of days for my liking. I want to see my girl happy, truly happy.

At the curb, we wait for the pedestrian light. Ana rocks back and forth on her heels. Noticing her borrowed scarf (my scarf) had fallen from one shoulder, I wrap it around her neck twice then let the much-shortened ends hang down her front. She smiles prettily at me when I finish.

Eager girl that she is, she had the foresight to pack a bag in case she decided to spend the night after all. She wore her usual coat over a casual shirt and skin-tight jeans. Adorning her feet are the five-inch heel boots I bought her last week. When I questioned her wearing them for a stroll around the block, she shut me up by stating they made her feel pretty. I've now made a commitment to myself to tell Ana she is beautiful every time I see her. Won't be hard, considering she takes my breath away every time I look at her.

The green walking man appears, and Ana holds onto my elbow. When we step up the curb and onto the sidewalk on the other side, her hand falls to her side. I quickly thread my fingers through hers. Our steps in sync with Sawyer trailing after us, we pass four storefronts until coming to the one with the word "Halloween" spray-painted on the window. Entering, I ask if she has an idea for a costume.

After wishing a "Good morning" to a cashier, she says, "What are your thoughts on coordinating our costumes?"

"A couple's theme, you mean?" She nods excitedly. "As in, everyone will know we went together in matching costumes because we are a couple and every guy will know you are off-limits? I am definitely fine with that, sunshine."

She smiles from ear-to-ear. "Great!" We start for the aisles marked adult costumes. "Before we start, is there anything specific you are against wearing? What are your hard-limits on costume shopping, so to speak?" She asks innocently.

If I'd been drinking something, I might have choked. Hearing her say that transports me back to my office back in GEH headquarters after I saw those damned photos of my Ana.

I feel like I'm choking. I loosen the scarf around my neck with my free hand. I've apparently also stopped walking as Ana is some steps ahead of me with our hands keeping us connected. She's forced to halt when our outstretched arms refuse her any more distance. I'm certainly not going to let her go. Ever.

"Christian? What's wrong?" She looks behind me, probably to Sawyer who I believe is now stationed at the entrance. At my lack of response, she moves closer to me and tries to peer into my eyes. "Christian?"

I see her in front of me, but I also see those awful sickening photos. I should have fucked up his shit, not Sawyer. I should have beaten him to death then pissed on his dead body. Damn Taylor and Sawyer for talking me into letting Sawyer scare him away. He should be dead and rotting in Hell! I've read a medieval torture practice was rat torture. I'm sure I could have that arranged. Hell, I'd light the end of the bucket myself.

A shake on my arm rouses me from that picture. Her soft voice registers in my mind and suddenly I'm fully focused on Ana standing before me.

In a flash, I have her crushed in my arms, her face smashed against my chest. She yelps in surprise as I hug her fiercely. I smell her hair, getting a whiff of apple. Her arms wrap clumsily around my waist. She's stiffer than a board but that she's allowing me to hold her means everything to me. I wonder, for the nth time, how, despite the abuse and mental manipulation, she can be a gentle, caring, happy, beautiful person—inside and out.

Above her head, I notice a kid curiously staring at us. She couldn't have been more than six. Even as our eyes meet, the little girl's staring doesn't falter. She gives me a shy wave and grin. That is until who I believe is her mother scolds her for looking at us. Odd, considering Ana and I are only hugging, or I'm squishing her breathless in my arms, whatever. The mother gives me a scathing look before yanking her daughter into the candy aisle, away from the G-rated PDA.

I clear my throat and let Ana go. She takes a not-so-subtle deep breath. Ana touches my arm slowly. She appears flabbergasted and unsure how to act or what to say. After a moment of opening and closing her mouth, she seems to decide to wait for an explanation for my odd behavior.

I don't know what to tell her that won't give me away, so maybe I should just. . . play it off? I straighten my shoulders and try for an air of indifference. Act like nothing happened. What was her question again? Oh, right.

"No to anything that involves over an hour of special effect makeup." I don't elaborate. I smile and start for the last aisle again.

Ana steps in front of me, stopping me. "Christian, what happened? You looked like you wanted to vomit."

I'm sure I did. "I'm fine, sunshine." I bend slightly and kiss her pink cheek.

She laces her fingers through mine. "No, Christian. What is it? I'm serious. You looked green and ready to blow chunks. Was it something I said? You can tell me." Ana peers into my eyes, concern pouring out of her.

No, I can't, I think. You need to tell me. My smile still in pace, I lie, "I was remembering a prank my brother did on me."

"A prank?" Ana's eyebrows raise, not convinced.

"Yeah, I was nine. I was sleeping and woke up to a dead rat lying on my face. Its hair had gotten in my nose and mouth. I threw up everywhere," I exaggerate. I'm not lying, though; my stupid brother and his friends actually did that to me.

"How awful!" Her nose scrunches up in disgust. "Why would he do that?"

"He was having a slumber party with friends. Just goofing around, I think. He was grounded for a month."

"Where did they get a dead rat?"

"He wouldn't say."

Ana looks down to where our toes almost touch. "Why were you thinking about it?"

My smile drops, and I swallow thickly. Slowly, I say, "I saw a fake rat on display, and I just . . . thought of it." I shrug, but she doesn't see the motion.

"Oh," she says awkwardly.

"So," I say, stepping around her. "Costumes?" Still not looking convinced, she nods.

I am currently in a fitting room, wearing no pants or shoes. Ana had instructed me to take them off before having Sawyer hand this god-awful costume over to me. To make matters worse, I'm not even in an actual fitting room. It's just long black curtains that create five private sections. There isn't a mirror in here, only one outside. It's a good thing Sawyer arranged with the store manager to temporarily close the fitting area to anyone else to give us a small form of privacy. He is sitting on a stool nearby, blocking entry to this closed corner.

I hold the inflated plastic and cotton pants out in front of me. Perhaps giving Ana the reins in picking our costumes was a bad idea. How do I tell her her first choice is stupid? She can't honestly expect me to wear this weird thing. I can imagine what she's going to put on to match this weird dumb costume I now hold in my hands. I should have peeked when she threatened me not to. The worst I imagined was her picking something too revealing for herself.

"Ana!" I call out to her, knowing she's in the "changing room" next to me. "You cannot be serious!"

In a deceitfully sweet voice, she calls, "Are you finished?"

"I am not wearing this," I say. "Give me another to try on."

"But I've already got mine on," she whines. "Please at least try it on so I can see how we look side by side."

I sigh. "Damn it. Fine. Give me a second." I shove first my right leg then my left leg carefully into the inflated pants. Christ, I feel like I'm wearing a diaper backward. I toss the white plastic cord thing over my shoulder as the picture of the package shows. I don't care what Ana says or tries to negotiate, I am not wearing this to the party. Even if she pouts, I will flat out refuse. It's bad enough Sawyer is going to see me wearing this. Jesus, what is Ana going to wear to match this?

"Okay, Christian," Ana calls. "I'm out."

Deep breaths, Grey. She'll see it's stupid and choose another costume. I push the curtain to the side and step out. Ana is already checking herself out in the only mirror. I stand behind her, a smile threatening to break my scowl as I take her reflection in. She's wearing a black rectangular shaped dress over her shirt and pants, making her look bulkier than she really is. She strikes a pose, one hand on her hip and the other high over her head.

"Plug and Outlet. How sexy," I finally chuckle, looking her up and down through the mirror. Okay, it's still stupid but a little funny.

"Aren't they, in a cutesy kind of way? When I saw them, I knew we had to at least try them on and get a picture." Her eyes meet mine through the mirror. And there's the smile I wanted to see when we left my penthouse, lighting my entire world.

I touch the lower socket picture on the dress, noticing my plug is dead center of the two sockets. She's right; we need to take a picture. Though I don't plan on anyone else seeing it but her and me.

"Okay, one selfie," she says, turning back to the mirror and scooting to the side to show my plug. Man, that sounds dirty. I put my arm around her shoulders as she digs out her cell from her pants pocket. She holds up her phone, and chirps, "Cheese!"

I inspect the picture after it's taken. She's grinning wide, and I'm gazing down at her in adoration. I didn't realize my feelings were that transparent. Oddly, I find I don't mind that. Let the world see how much Ana means to me. If it weren't for potential threats against her, of course. No need to give the enemy ammunition.

"Send that to me." I'll have it printed and put somewhere no one can see but us. Maybe a photo album? As I think that, an idea pops into my head.

"Ana, were there any more costumes like these?"

She slips the dress over her head, her shirt lifting to expose her belly button. "Yeah, a few. Want to try them on, too?" She discards the dress on a vacant chair.

"If you don't mind. We can get more pictures for fun."

"Okay. I'll go grab them and other actual candidates for the party while you take those pants off." Without a backward glance, she was gone.

Back in my fitting room, I shimmy myself out of the costume. I try to fold it as it first was as I can before shoving it into the clear bag I took it out of. I'll leave that in the corner for now. I wait for Ana.

Back behind the curtain, I kick off the pants and stuff them as neatly as I'm capable into their packaging. I set it in the corner.

Some minutes later, I hear Ana huffing nearby. She calls, "Sawyer, I think I dropped two on my way over. Can you please get them for me?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele," Sawyer replies.

"Thank you!"

I poke my head out. She drops an armful of costumes on a chair. "How many did you get, Ana?"

She looks at me over her shoulder as she sorts the clothes. "Not much. Just thirteen for each of us." She tugs a red costume free. "You might want to put your pants back on for this next one."

"Okay."

A short moment later, as I'm zipping up, Ana says, "Are you decent?"

After I say yes, she steps inside. "Close your eyes!" I do. "Bend over a little. I'm going to slip this over your head. Okay! Now your arms. Great. Now put this on your head."

Ana dresses me in what feels like a stiff, foamy dress. I run my hands over myself, feeling the length comes to just above my knees. The thing on my head is cone-shaped and the same material as the dress. What the hell did she put on me?

She takes my hand, saying, "Do not open your eyes."

"What am I wearing, Ana?" I ask as I hear her move the curtain to the side.

"Trust me. I'm just leading you to the mirror." I follow her blindly and slowly. "Okay, when I tell you to open your eyes, open them."

I nod and wait. She moves around and whispers something to presumably Sawyer. She's too low for me to hear though I strain to. This waiting is killing me. Have I not mentioned I'm not an incredibly patient person? If I hadn't, I should let her know soon.

Ana's fingers suddenly intertwine with mine and she presses tightly to my side. "Okaaaaay. Open your eyes!"

I do, and my jaw drops. "You know I hate mustard!" I touch the hat that's meant to be a lid on my head in distaste. While I am a mustard bottle, Ana is dressed as my counterpart, a fucking ketchup bottle.

Beside me, Ana is smiling widely at me. "Aren't these amazing?" She laughs when I grimace. "Oh, c'mon. You said to find funny costumes, and I did. We look ridiculous."

I snake my arm around her. "You're right about that, sunshine." Finally, I laugh. Only with Ana can I dress in comical matching outfits simply for the fun of it. Can't remember a day I did something goofy for fun. A month ago, sans Ana, an activity like this would be wasting time that could be better spent working or fucking, not that I was getting any for the latter last month. I don't want the weekend to end. Then, Ana goes to her apartment, because she doesn't have any clothes at my place, and I'll have to console myself with one-hour lunches throughout the week.

"Alright, then, let's take that picture," I say.

She giggles, "Got it taken care of." She points at the mirror, but I follow her finger to Sawyer's reflection. He's standing a bit next to us and behind us.

"Ms. Steele." He hands back her phone, inclines his head to me with a stiff jaw—more likely than not to keep from smirking, the bastard. He disappears from my view to retake his seat again.

At my raised eyebrow, she explains, "I had him take the picture right after you opened your eyes, so we can capture your reaction." Ana clicks around on her phone, then hands it to me. In the picture, Ana hides her grin behind her hand, her eyes trained on me. My eyes are wide, and my mouth is hanging open. I look shocked. Perhaps shook would be the better word, as the young people would say it.

"You look like Shrek," Ana laughs. "You know when he and Donkey first get to Duloc? That picture that the machine takes of them? You have the exact same expression."

Giving her phone back, I say, "Wouldn't know."

She takes off her hat and fluffs out her hair. "Wouldn't know what?"

I follow suit. "Whatever you're talking about. I've never seen it." I take the costume off.

Ana hesitates in her reach for it. "You've never seen Shrek? It's a classic!"

"Why would I? I was turning sixteen the year it came out. I wasn't interested in watching a kid's movie at that age."

Ana puts the mustard costume on its hanger. "Who cares if you were sixteen? I watched Frozen when it came out, and I was twenty."

"Sure, but you're. . . sweet like that. Mia watched it, too. And she's a year older than you. I just wasn't interested at the time." I stuff the yellow hat into the small bag attached to the hanger.

"Still," Ana mumbles after putting the ketchup costume on a rack off to the side of the mirror. I follow suit. "I've never met anyone who hasn't seen Shrek. Wait, Mia would have been around seven or eight. You didn't watch it with her?"

"She never was into it because Shrek is ugly. She was very vain as a child." And as an adult.

"Next you'll tell me you've never seen Toy Story."

"Don't be silly, Ana. Everyone's seen that movie." I roll my eyes. "Mia was three, and she absolutely loved it. Watched it like a million times before she turned five."

Ana harrumphs, but I can see her little smirk.

In the pile of costumes she'd dumped on a chair, I pick out a bacon shirt. Under it is an eggs dress. "Round three?"

Like clockwork, Ana and I try on the next eleven costumes that are funny (eggs and bacon, twin Where's Waldos, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and twin Pikachus), heroic (Superman and Lois Lane, and Batman and Catwoman), villainous (Joker and Harley Quinn), Disney-themed (Cinderella and Prince Charming, Belle and Beast, and Jack and Sally), and fairy-tale-themed (Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf). I shot all the serious possible costumes for the party down.

Ana and I never considered the funny costumes—those were just for our amusement. I've already spent a Halloween as Superman and Batman when I was young. There was no way Ana was going to wear the panties that Harley Quinn's costume was equipped with. I also didn't want to go as a couple cliché, so I said no to the rest.

I sense Ana's annoyance with me rejecting all her picks thus far. There is one last chance before I take it upon myself to search the store. That would be a lost cause, given its less than a week till Halloween and the better costumes have been sold out.

After I'd said no to the last one, Ana had huffed and taken a costume to her fitting room so fast I was unable to see what was left for her to try on. I know I was being a pain in her ass, but I'll make it up to her when we go home. Maybe with a foot massage.

That last costume, the Big Bad Wolf, had me taking my shirt off. Shirtless, I hold up Ana's last choice for me. It's a black and red knee-length cape equipped with a black cane—which I found little funny—and red horns. The name on the tag read, "Devil." And Ana is going as my counterpart. In my mind, I picture her in black and red lingerie with horns and a tail. I might actually like this one.

I put my shirt on, then tie on the cape, put on the horns, and grab the cane. Fairly simple. I might say yes to this if it were a better quality. I could order something more to my taste. Ana will definitely be wearing a black dress over the lingerie for the party, but as soon as we are home, it'll be ripped off her. My mouth salivates with the anticipation.

I step out to see my reflection. It's not bad but does need improvement. I could wear an all-black suit, acquire a velvet black red cape, and order customized detailed matching horns for Ana and myself. I already own a genuine ebony walking cane with a solid gold cap (for fitting the theme of one of my mother's many galas).

"Ana, I like this one," I call out.

"Really? Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass finally approves? How spectacular!" Ana calls back sarcastically. "Let's hope my costume isn't too slutty for His Highness."

That mental image of Ana dressed like a slutty devil comes, naturally. "I have an idea to work around that for your friends' party."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Let's just say, 'Classy Devil in the streets, Slutty Devil in the sheets.'"

"Hold on, do you mean your role-playing fetish? Want me to wear lingerie under my dress that I can only show you?"

I take off the horns and dump it on a chair along with the plastic cane. As I untie the cape, I say, "Yes, exactly that." I retrieve the bag the costume came in from my dressing room and set it with the rest of the veto-ed costumes.

"But I'm not dressing as a devil. You are," she emphasizes. "Are you planning to wear a thong with your costume, Mr. Grey?"

I pause. "We both are going as devils, aren't we? King and Queen of Hell?" I should order crowns, too.

"No, Christian. You'd be the devil, and I'd be the angel."

Angel? Ana?

*WARNING*

Just like that, I'm seeing those fucking photos again. One in particular. My Ana at the ripe age of fifteen wearing a halo and angel wings and nothing else. Her on her back. Westbrook between her legs, taking her virginity. Blood smeared on her and him.

A tightness takes over my body and my muscles contract. My vision blurs as my heart pounds wildly in my chest.

How the fuck can I be trying on costumes, acting like I don't know anything when Ana's rapist is walking around without a care in the world? Did she not tell me Friday he'd tried to rape her again? Why the fuck haven't I beaten him yet? He fucking hurt her!

"Mr. Grey," Sawyer whispers, gripping my arm suddenly. "Calm down."

"Fucking Westbrook," I hiss, yanking his hold off me.

He immediately grabs my wrist and puts his mouth close to my ear. "Mr. Grey, I know, but calm down. We have eyes on him 24/7. We've got him already! He's going to leave her alone. Take a deep breath."

His hand touching me, I see the bruises on his knuckles he got after threatening Westbrook. "How can you be so fucking sure? He could try calling her or emailing her to meet him somewhere if he slips Morgan or Harrison. We don't know how strong his hold on her is. She can go to him if he tells her to."

"I made myself clear. He cried like a bitch after the first punch to his gut. He'll stay away from her." I try to protest, and he quickly adds, "We'll protect Ana, even from herself. She's probably dying to get rid of him. If he had much that control over her, she'd had left you the first time he told her to."

Ana slips past the curtain and steps to the mirror, not noticing Sawyer and I huddled together. "I like the wings, but I'm not so crazy about the dress or halo," she says, oblivious. "I think I have a white dress at home that could work, though and a halo."

Not the one from the picture, I plead to myself.

"Christian, what do you think?" Ana twirls once, the feathery wings bobbing up and down with the motion. She halts and looks at us concerned. "What's going on?"

I don't say anything. As I look at her dressed like an angel, I also see her on her back with Westbrook between her legs. I groan and grimace. Not able to look at her more, I look away.

*END WARNING*

Sawyer speaks up. "There's been a situation, Ms. Steele. Mr. Grey looks to be getting ill. We need to head back."

Ana hurries to my side. "Oh, God. You should have told me as soon as you started feeling off." She presses her hand to my cheek. "You don't feel warm, but you're sweating. And you look green again. Did you see that fake rat again?"

I don't answer, just nod. God, she must think I'm a pussy, but what else can I tell her?

She hurries behind a curtain. A moment later, she steps out in her clothes disheveled. "I hate leaving a mess, but I want to put you straight to bed. C'mon." She gives me a sideways hug, then takes my hand. "We should have brought a car. How far away is your place? Like ten minutes, right? We'll get you there in one piece. Don't worry."

I squeeze her hand as she tugs me along. "Thank you, but I'm beginning to feel better again."

Ana slows her pace but doesn't stop walking. "Well, we are still leaving. What if you see another rat? You know, I have half a mind to kick your brother in his shin for traumatizing you," she growls.

I laugh imagining that. Considering they have a full foot height difference, I'd love to see Elliott get taken down by my little ray of sunshine. "Don't bother. It was so long ago. I doubt he even remembers."

Balancing the big bowl of buttered popcorn and two cokes on the tray, I enter the media room. Ana is busy examining my Blu-ray collection to glance my way. I set the tray down on one of the double recliners.

"Find anything, sweetheart?" I come up behind her and rest my chin on her head. My hands encircle her waist.

"I can't decide between the Conjuring, The Vow, or Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You are the deciding vote."

"What are each about?"

Ana whirls around in my arms. "You've not seen them?" I shake my head and tilt it. "But you own them," she says, baffled.

I shrug. "I haven't seen most of these movies. This room truly belongs to my siblings. They both petitioned for me to have a room they couldn't be bored in."

"I get that, but why haven't you seen them? Do you not like movies?"

Sitting on a recliner, I shrug again. "I have better things to do than sit around and watch movies. As I said, Elliott and Mia mostly use it when they come to visit. My time is valued. Being in here is not."

Ana crosses her arms self-consciously. She frowns. "You're in here now."

I reach out and grab her wrists. She comes willingly when I pull her onto my lap. "I value my time with you, and you're in here."

She blushes and looks down. "I value my time with you, too, Christian."

Smiling, I kiss her once. "So, what are those movies you wanted to watch about? No spoilers please."

Shifting in my lap, she says, "The Conjuring is a horror movie. A family of seven moves into this really old house but its haunted. The Vow is a romance. Wife gets in an accident and loses her memory of her husband. Mr. and Mrs. Smith is an action movie. A married couple finds out the other is an assassin."

I don't need to think about this. "The last one, definitely."

Ana jumps up and off my lap to grab the movie. "Action, it is."

Ana and I share a double recliner as the movie plays. Both of my feet touch the floor while Ana's are tucked under her. She's leaning against me and I have my arm around her shoulders. The popcorn sits on my lap and with my free hand, I eat handfuls of perfectly buttered popcorn. This is hands down the most relaxed I've been in the last few days.

In the movie, watching Jane pretend to be a dominatrix to kill her target, I admit, I did get a little turned on. It's been ages since I was a submissive, but I think I'd be willing to do that again for a scene with the girl beside me. In my dreams, anyway. I doubt Ana would be able to dominate me; it doesn't fit her personality thus far.

"Maybe you should go as her," I tease.

Ana giggles. "Yeah, and you could be my slave." I laugh, though now I think of us clad in leather with my leash and whip in her hands.

Ana continues, "As appealing as that is, you'd never let me wear something so provocative, and you know it."

Suddenly, she sits up, almost knocking the popcorn off my lap. "Careful, Ana," I scold, putting no fire behind it. Mrs. Jones keeps this place so clean we could probably eat straight from the floor.

Ignoring my comment, Ana exclaims, "We could go as that!"

"Mistress and slave? I don't think so, Ana."

She smacks my arm excitedly. "No! As them." She points to the screen. "We can go as Mr. and Mrs. Smith!"