A/N: Jake Arrieta threw a no-hitter for the Chicago Cubs yesterday, so I'm treating you all to an update. Like a pizza place giving out free pizzas when someone hit's a grand slam. And hey- Kris Bryant did that yesterday too! Guys, I love baseball… Anyway. Without further ado…

CHRISTIAN

He paced his home office, his mind running wild. What could he do to make her see the truth? How could he make her see that Kennedy was a predator who was had manipulated her for their entire relationship? She needed to see the truth. But how? How how how? It wasn't her fault. She was so young, too young when he exposed her to such overwhelming and consuming ideas about life and relationships and men and sex. She should have been experiencing awkward kisses at the movie theater and sweaty palms at home coming dances, and instead she was… he looked down at his computer which was opening to some website explaining the basics of BDSM. He cringed, thinking of a fifteen year old doing any of those things, especially with a man twice her age. He thought back to when Mia was fifteen, what she'd been like, how obviously immature she was, physically and mentally. If he found out anyone had done to Mia what Kennedy had done to Ana? Christian picked up the nearest thing off his desk and whipped it against the wall of his study.

"FUCK!" he growled, the anger blazing so brightly he could hardly see straight.

There was a knock on his office door, and he knew from experience that it was Taylor's sharp knock. "Come in," he grumbled.

"Sir," Taylor came in looking around to assess the damage from the noise he'd just heard. He looked over to see Christian's phone smashed into pieces and a dent in the wall from the impact.

"Shall I have Welch get you a new phone, sir?"

"Yes," Christian huffed. Then immediately it gave him an idea. "Have him get me two. Replace mine. Then get me another. Not in my name. Not traceable to GEH either. Just link it to some ghost account. Top of the line. Unlimited everything. Program my personal cell into it. And see that it finds its way to Anastasia Steele, but make sure no one sees you give it to her or knows it's from me."

"Of course, sir," Taylor said, making his leave for the door when Christian stopped him.

"Can I speak to you for a moment Taylor?" Christian asked him.

"Of course, sir," Taylor said, doubling back and taking the seat Christian motioned to across from his desk.

But Christian sat quietly, contemplating what, if anything he could discuss with Taylor without feeling like she was putting Ana's very personal business out there.

"Sir?" Taylor asked, urging him.

"Sorry. I have just recently learned some very disturbing information about Ana and I am trying to decide if it is my place or not to share said information with you."

"If there's something dangerous between Miss Steele and Mr. Kennedy, and you are involving yourself in that, I would think it prudent that I be notified of as much information as possible."

Christian sighed. "Dangerous…" he mulled the word over. Kennedy wasn't a danger to her physically, not really, if Christian was understanding this whole BDSM thing correctly. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. A pedophiliac sexual predator was definitely a danger. Someone who willingly manipulated innocent children was probably the world's worst kind of danger. Fuck it, he trusted Taylor more than anyone in the world, and he was at a total loss here. He needed advice and help and Taylor would probably be the person best able to give him those things.

"Jason," Christian said, looking his right hand in the eyes. He rarely addressed him by his first name, so he took notice of the way Taylor's shoulder immediately stiffened and his attention peaked. "Scott Kennedy has been participating in a sexual relationship with Ana since she was fifteen." He watched as his always stoic PPO's face contorted into a grimace, his Adam's apple bobbing harshly like he was swallowing a bug. "Are you familiar with BDSM?"

"Not personally, sir, but I do know the basics of what it entails."

Christian nodded. "Kennedy knew her somehow. I'm not sure exactly how they became involved at this point. But he knew her and convinced her that he could help her overcome what she claims to have been some form of social anxiety by providing her with a reward and punishment system every time she did or did not display such behaviors. Sex became involved after a time, and they are still involved in a BDSM relationship where he dominates her and she submits to him."

"That's…" Taylor said, trailing off.

"Yes, it is," Christian agreed, knowing that he, too, had difficulty coming up with words to describe how the whole thing made him feel. Taylor held old school principles about how to treat women and children, and with a daughter of his own, Christian knew he would feel intensely about this whole thing.

"She doesn't see anything wrong with it. Obviously Kennedy has done a number on her, manipulating her at such an impressionable age to such a degree that she can't see the truth. I am not willing to walk away from her. I want to help her see what he is, what he's done. She claims he's helped her, but the truth is, he has made himself the center of her universe. She works directly under him, lives beyond her means to the point where I suspect she lives in a home he pays for, drives a car he pays for. She has no friends, no hobbies. He is her life and I don't think she has the means or support to extricate herself from him even if she decided she wanted to, which incidentally she does not. But I want to find a way to help her. So I need a plan, here. I need to do something to help make her see him for what he is."

"I can look into the legal ramifications, if you'd like. See about the statute of limitations on statutory rape," Taylor offered.

Christian sat up at attention, nodding enthusiastically halfway through Taylor's sentence. "Yes, that's a good idea."

"Also, sir, may I suggest speaking with a psychologist. They might be much more knowledgeable about how to approach the topic with Miss Steele. She's likely to keep shutting down if she defends Mr. Kennedy's position in her life. Maybe a psychologist will be able to recommend how best to handle everything until she's ready to start seeing the truth and becomes willing to talk to a specialist herself. It's the same idea as hiring one to preside over an intervention for an addict. Professional guidance and such."

"Yes, good," Christian agreed again. These immediate reactions were exactly why Christian trusted Taylor so much. "See if you can get contact information for a Dr. John Flynn. He's a psychiatrist. I used him years ago, and he really helped me through some rough patches I had as a teen. He specializes in adolescents, so he might be very helpful since all this began during Ana's adolescent years. I'm not sure if he's still in Seattle, but I'd like to reach out to him first, if possible."

"Yes, sir," Taylor said, seeing his cue and standing to set the ball in motion on all the things they'd discussed.

Christian breathed a little easier now that the beginnings of a plan were in place. He liked Ana. Wanted her, even. And if he had anything to say about it, one day she would be his. But for now, the most important thing was helping her. Kennedy had tied her down to this life and Christian wanted to free her of it. Tied down. How apt. Christian scowled. The audacity of a grown man taking advantage of a teenager like this… it disgusted him. He'd been a victim of child abuse. Never sexual, but horrific abuse just the same. But he was lucky. He'd been saved by Grace and Carrick Grey.

He brushed his fingertips over his clothed chest, remembering what it was like to be young and afraid. He'd spent years unable to accept touch from anyone, even his family. But with love and patience and the help of a good psychiatrist, he'd been able to overcome the trauma of his childhood and become a well-adjusted adult. It had taken time. He remembered when he'd been in his mid-teens, he'd gotten into trouble, drinking and fighting. He hadn't understood it at the time, but with therapy he learned that it was as a way to cope with his inability to accept love or touch. A way to be physically close to someone. After his third school expulsion, he'd been forced to switch psychiatrists, and that was when he'd met Dr. John Flynn. Through intense therapy, John helped him realize that his acting out was his way of saying to the world that he was ready for a change. He was ready to face his demons and wanted to work through his past and learn to accept the things he never thought he could. It had been a pivotal point in his life. He'd been… what? Fifteen.

His gut roiled again. Fifteen. Just like Ana. Fifteen and so vulnerable. So lost and confused. John had gotten ahold of him at just the right time to persuade him to change his life. He'd offered him a lifeline, offered him a chance to change everything if he was willing. And he had been, desperately so. But what if John hadn't been the one to get ahold of him? What if someone with evil intent had sunken their claws into him first. Christian had been so lost, so desperate for something he didn't understand, that who knows what he would have been susceptible to the influence of? He closed his eyes and tried to image a life in which his loving parents and the good doctor hadn't been the ones there to catch him when he was falling. What if, instead, a sick and twisted pedophile had manipulated him into some dark sexual relationship? The dark truth was, that anything could happen. These sorts of things happened all the time in the world. Twisted adults preyed on innocent children, and it was gut-wrenching. It could have happened to him, to Elliot, to Mia, but it did happen to Ana.

Christian heaved a sigh, opening his eyes. He hadn't known Ana then. He couldn't have saved her. But he could and would do everything in his power to save her now. She was what? Twenty-one? She had a whole life to live. At her age, with her intelligence, she should be getting ready to graduate college, but instead, she was working under Kennedy's watchful eye. But it wasn't too late for her to go to school for publishing like she'd briefly expressed interested in—another thing Kennedy probably purposefully kept her from doing under the guise of needing her help with GHI. Christian grunted angrily at that newest realization. So many things she missed out on due to his manipulation. But Christian would fix it. Once he got her out of Kennedy's grasp, got her into her own place with her own car and her own job, getting therapy to help her work through everything, then he would offer to pay for her to go to school. He would find a way to right the wrongs Kennedy did to her.

His mind wandered to what Taylor had mentioned about the statute of limitations. He hoped there was a way to seek legal action against Kennedy was well. He deserved to be in jail for that he'd done to Ana. For all Christian knew, Ana wasn't the only one he'd done this to. What if there were others? Other innocent kids out there who had been seduced by his promises of help and control. The man was so damn charismatic, it should be no surprise that he knew how to smooth talk sweet, young, impressionable girls the way he did. He was attractive, too. Christian bet that went a long way in helping his cause. And, hell, he knew how to talk to teens! He had been a goddamn high school teacher-.

Christian froze. High school teacher. He'd been a fucking high school teacher! Quickly he found pulled out the background check he'd had done on Ana, his index finger trailing the paper until he found the line listing her education.

Montesano High School, Graduated with Honors June 2007

Immediate he was on his phone, and Welch answered on the first ring.

"I don't have Scott Kennedy's background check with me. Can you tell look it up and tell me where he was employed in 2005-2006?" If Ana graduated in June of 2007, she was seventeen at the time. So that meant she'd have turned fifteen in September of 2005. If Kennedy was a teacher at her school at that time, he'd bet his entire fortune that was how he'd met her.

He heard Welch clicking around on his computer for a moment. "It says that he was employed at Montesano High School, sir. He signed a contract with them in July of 1996, and worked as a Physics teacher there until resigning in June of 2007. He was approved for a bank loan and filed all the paperwork to start Greener Horizons Inc. by July of that same year."

Christian squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was a teacher. He'd not only taken advantage of someone underage, but he'd taken advantage of one of his students.

"I want more information on him, Welch. I want to know if he's ever been accused of inappropriate behavior with a student before. Find out where he worked before Montesano High. He's in his late forties, early fifties right?"

"Forty-nine, sir,"

"Well then he likely graduated sometime around twenty-two, so that would have been roughly 1983. He had to work somewhere before going to Montesano High in 1996. Find out where and why he left."

"Yes, sir."

"And Welch? This is going to sound… peculiar, but do you have any knowledge of the sexual lifestyle called 'BDSM' or how to access information on people in that lifestyle?"

"It might take some doing, but I have a lot of connections, sir. I might be able to access some information. Can I ask for more details, so I know where to look, sir?"

Christian pursed his lips, debating for a moment before again saying 'fuck it'. "I know Kennedy is involved in it. I want to know his level of participation. Any and all information regarding his involvement."

"I'll see what I can dig up, sir. But it might take some time. And a lot of favors," Welch warned.

"Do whatever you have to do."

ANA

Ana laid in bed, the quiet interrupted only by the random car driving by on the street. It was completely dark in her room and she was nestled in her bed under her blue comforter, warm and cozy and so, so tired. When had her life become so eventful? She'd been used to the same thing for so long now- work, time with Scott, sleep, repeat. Then something happened and boom!- she'd found herself thrust into this chaos. She scoffed. That something was more like someone. Christian Grey. She'd been just fine in her life before he came along; she was content with the way things were with Scott. She had a good job, a nice home, a safe car, and a man that looked out for her wellbeing while giving her superb sex. That was way more than a lot of people her age had, that was for sure.

Stupid Christian Grey thinking he could give his stupid input on her life like he knew her. She was relieved that she hadn't heard from him since she'd kicked him out of her apartment three days ago. Maybe, after thinking about it, he'd realized he had no business trying to insert himself in her life affairs, despite his parting line promising that he would find a way to do just that. She could only hope that he'd found a way to accept that this wasn't his concern, she wasn't his concern. Maybe he would leave her alone for good, and then she could finally stop thinking about him.

Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

She squeezed her eyes shut with a groan she rolled from her back onto her side. But all she saw when she did was intense grey eyes and messy copper hair.

Her eyes sprung back open, and that was when she noticed a faint flashing light across the room. What was that? She laid there, trying to figure out what it could be. It reminded her of the notification light on her phone, but one look to her night table confirmed that her phone was atop it, charging. When she couldn't come up with anything else to explain it, she threw the blankets off of herself and strode across the room. Flicking on the lamp, the faint light disappeared under the stronger glow, but she realized it had been coming from where her purse was sitting.

Grabbing the handbag, she went back to her bed, sitting crossed legged with it on her lap and began to sift through it. Her hands patted the sides, and she felt something hard in the front pocket, a place she never kept anything because it only closed with a single snap and therefore she didn't trust anything to not fall out of it.

Reaching in, she pulled out… a phone? She eyes shot to her nightstand again, where, yes, her phone was sitting just as she'd already confirmed a minute ago. Turning it over in her hand, she noticed this wasn't even the same kind of phone as she had. She had a Samsung, and this was an iPhone. How in the hell did this end up in her purse?

Pressing the small circle button at the bottom, the phone lit up, and she swiped her finger across the screen like it indicated to do. It wasn't locked, so immediately the home screen popped up. A little number one was perched next to the text message icon, as well as the email icon, but she didn't click on either. She wouldn't want someone reading her messages or emails if she lost her phone, so she wouldn't do that to someone else. Pressing the icon for the Contacts list, she figured she looked for one that said "Home" or "Mom", so she could call and let them know to tell the owner of the phone where they could retrieve it. But when the contact list opened, her breath froze as she saw there was only one name in the list.

Christian

What the fuck?! What the hell was this?

Quickly she clicked on the text message icon, seeing that it was indeed from the contact listed as 'Christian'. She also noted that it was dated two days ago, the day after she'd spilled her gut to him. Meaning, he really hadn't left her alone like she thought. She just hasn't realized that he'd reach out to her in such an odd way.

-Ana, please open the email app. I have created an account for you that cannot be traced to either of us. It was easier than typing this all via text. There is an email waiting where you will find answers to some of the many questions I'm sure you are asking right now.

Then another message from yesterday.

-I can see from the read receipt that you have not yet viewed my text or email yet, so I will assume you have no found the phone. However, once I do receive a read receipt, I expect to hear from you immediately.

She glared at the phone. He would see that she read the texts, but she could easily just ignore the email. What if she didn't want to hear what he had to say? What if—

Who are you kidding, Ana? Of course you want to see what he has to say.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she jabbed the email icon with her index finger, then clicked on the sole email in the Inbox.

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: iPhone

Ana-

If you're reading this then you obviously found the phone. I had Taylor, my personal security, find a way to slip the phone to you so as not to arouse suspicions from anyone, namely Scott Kennedy. You mentioned that our communication was getting you in trouble, so I figured providing you with a means of communication that he cannot track, that cannot be traced to neither you nor myself, would solve that particular issue.

I meant what I said, Ana. I am going to do anything in my power to make sure you see the truth about the man you think you know. I find myself inexplicably drawn to you, and I simply cannot sit back and watch as he keeps exploiting your trusting naiveté.

I will be contacting you on this phone. Feel free to contact me whenever you feel the want, or especially the need. If you need something, anything, I am here to help you, Ana. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I can be an ear, a shoulder, a friend, a protector, and so much more. You just have to let me.

Please reply to this message as soon as you read it.

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

Ana stared at the email, reading the words on the screen through twice before allowing her brain to try and sort them out. Then she just started to type.

To: Christian Grey

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Re: iPhone

Mr. Grey,

I am not quite sure what to say to you regarding this entire situation. Providing me with a phone is unnecessary, because I do not think there is any reason we need to be in contact. I do not need an ear, a shoulder, or protection. There is nothing in my life I dislike, nothing in my life I fear. I am happy. Everything between Scott and I is one hundred percent consensual and completely normal. Just because you don't understand my lifestyle choices does not mean they are wrong. Scott is my ear, is my shoulder, is my protection. And trust me, if he knew about what you were doing, what you were accusing him of, all the body guards in the world wouldn't stop him from confronting you. He takes my health and safety very seriously, and would be appalled to learn you consider him a threat to either.

I deeply regret the slip of my tongue where I let my deepest secret become known to you. I would greatly appreciate it if you would pretend like it never happened. Please, Mr. Grey, forget I ever told you anything about my personal life, and we can both continue to maintain a strictly professional relationship while at work, and a nonexistent relationship outside of it.

Thank you,

Anastasia Steele

There. That should do it. Strong and decisive, yet respectful. She wasn't spurning him because of emotion, because of anger at him overstepping his boundaries. She was declining his help because she simply didn't need it. He needed to see that she was of sound mind. He needed to understand that she was an adult who could make her own rational decisions. That they just had a difference of opinion, but he was wrong to assume that just because he didn't understand it, that what she and Scott did was wrong. At least she hoped that was what the tone of her response conveyed.

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Re: Re: iPhone

Have you ever asked yourself why, if everything about it is perfectly normal, perfectly consensual, does it have to remain a deep dark secret?

Christian

P.S. I noticed you mentioned not needing an ear, a shoulder, a protector because Kennedy does those things for you. But you omitted where I offered to be a friend. Does he fill that role in your life as well? Does anyone?

Ana felt her breath hold in her lungs. He wasn't letting this go. She felt the anger swell in her chest, coupled with embarrassment at this man who was practically a stranger pointing out things her mind had never considered and was subsequently urging her not to think about. Because, no, Scott was not her friend. That was a label he clearly didn't carry in her life. Maybe at one time, she would have labeled him as such, but not for years now. And while she was sure she didn't need Christian Grey to carry that label either, she was having a hard time admitting to herself that Christian was right, no one in her life really carried that label. She had no friends, not since she left Seattle for Portland four years ago.

Ana threw the phone down onto her bed, then picked up her pillow and used it to hit the stupid device a couple of times. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, irritated that Christian was getting into her head. It didn't matter what he said, she was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Rolling onto the other side of the bed, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and snuggled down into the bed. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to go to sleep, where hopefully she would be free of thoughts of Christian Grey, at least for a little while.