AN: Thank-you for all your positive feedback regarding the opening chapter. I appreciate every single review, favourite and follow.

BETA: Halo140 and pusher Stargazer93

CHAPTER TWO

"I CAN'T SPEAK LONG, I'm using a payphone." The headset had a sticky residue on it, and with such a lack of sleep, my care factor was hovering at a zero.

"Why are you… hey, I didn't even know they still existed?" My co-worker questioned.

"My cell is dead, but listen—"

"You fucking found him?" Luke squealed into my ear, "I'm right, it's a him." I wouldn't doubt if he was fist pumping the air.

"All passengers boarding flight 338 make your way to gate number nine." The announcement echoed in the small airport.

"That's English but it didn't sound American. Ana where are you? An airport?"

"I'm currently in Darwin."

"California?" Luke was a living breathing atlas, of the States, but unfortunately, he was dabbling in the wrong country.

"No Australia. I still have another flight and God only knows how long a drive."

"What the fuck, he's Australian?"

"I need to go," I hurried, "but If I don't make it back in time for Monday can you make an excuse to Lincoln."

"Do you want me to tell her you've found—"

"No!" I yelled, trying to compose myself, "no, I want to present the story as a done deal."

"Jesus Christ Ana, you actually did it. You tracked him down." Luke said.

"Woah don't get ahead of me; I still don't have that interview or met the guy—"

"Final Call for flight 338, could Anastasia Steele immediately board at gate nine." A more urgent announcement called.

Shit.

"Sorry Luke, I need to go."

"He's young isn't he."

I refused to speak I had an idea what he looked like, I had seen photos throughout Grace's home.

"Fuck he is, and hot." Luke chuckled on the other end.

"For all I know he's nine hundred pounds."

"And fucking exaggerating."

Biting my tongue, I wanted to gossip but I need to bolt to my gate.

"From your silence, you already know," I didn't, "Well good luck. I've got my fingers crossed for you."

"Thanks." I slammed down the phone into the receiver and ran for the gate. I was exhausted but there still was so far to go.

...

'GRACE TREVELYAN-GREY,' It had to the C Grey's mother. Oh God, I hope it was. For days I've been looking outside the box, hoping for a lead. Mystery impossible author my ass, I'm Ana Steele and can overcome any obstacle.

A single marriage certificate, with a hyphenated name Trevelyan-Grey. She was a widow to a Carrick Grey. There was a record of three adopted children, but no names.

Damn it.

As soon as Momma mentioned the first edition with the small publishing house, I was on the phone and contacted Kakadu House. They had published a run of 500 books, until the author withdrew their services. In the end they basically were giving away the surplus stock, which didn't sell. I begged for any information, which they had little to start with, only an email address, unfortunately, they refused to hand over. Conveniently they did slip that he refused to be contacted.

Gotcha. I'm onto him.

The December wind and rain whipped against my face as I walked down the long drive to the mansion in Bellevue. My nerves knotted in my stomach as I pressed the doorbell, waiting. After a few moments, I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The woman who opened it didn't look much older than my own mother.

"Grace Trevelyen-Grey?" I asked.

I towered over the petite woman with dark brunette hair, splashed with streaks of grey, resting slightly past her shoulders. She was wide-eyed as if she wasn't sure what to say, "Yes?"

"By chance are you related to a C Grey?"

She didn't answer immediately, as her gaze narrowed, "He was my husband, but I'm sorry. You're a few years late. He passed away."

I sighed, "No… I'm sorry for your loss, here wanting to speak with your son."

She hesitated, "You're another one of those nettlesome reporters?" her hands gripped the door, as her knuckles blanched to white.

"Well yes, I—"

Mrs Trevelyen-Grey began closing the heavy door, with quick instincts I inserted my foot, sacrificing a two hundred dollar heel in the process.

We stared at each other, "May I call you Grace?" she nodded, "I am a reporter, please hear me out." I begged.

"Why should I?" she demanded.

I frantically searched my mind for something, anything which would convince her to speak.

"The only reason which comes to mind, is the fact I'm tired of writing about pointless society dribble. I'm a society page reporter and hate it. I've worked hard all my life, but I've finally been given a chance. A real chance within the field. I'm giving up the possibility to spend time with my family in the hope I can get this interview. Grace you have an incredible son. His words… those books…" I was speechless, "are amazing. These novels have turned heads in the world of romance. I'd very much like to meet and interview him." I let out a breath after giving the speech of a lifetime.

A voice called from the other side of the wall, "Mom, what have I told you about answering the door." A tall slender woman with black hair stopped in her tracks. "You people never give up?" she pointed directly at my face, "You're a reporter, with one thing on your mind, my brother Christian. Mom come on—" she tried her best to usher Grace inside.

"Mia!" Grace chastised her daughter.

"Mom you can't keep doing this," and Grace shook her head.

"No Amelia wait," which she continued to address me, "what do you mean you write for the society page?"

I blurted the cliff notes version of my frantic life and search. Of course, it's been a risk to tell her everything but there was no reason to be dishonest. I was doing this for my career and in the end the possibility of sacrificing Christmas with my parents.

"I'm trying to make my parents proud, six years they have been waiting and with four years of college on top of that. Grace, this is my last chance."

Grace eyed me carefully, what seemed like an eternity. The pressure on my foot slowly released as she released the door. She silently invited me inside, of course to the dismay of Amelia.

Note: daughter Amelia is quite protective of her mother's actions.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you, I appreciate your kindness." Stepping out of the cold, I instantly felt the warm flow of air surround her. I noticed her home was doused with holiday items, garland by the mile and the most adorable Christmas tree you would only imagine seeing in the movies. What surprised me were the sheer number snowflakes of varying textures of crystal, glass, cloth, and paper which covered her home.

Grace motioned toward the living room. I sat between Grace and her daughter as they eyed me deeply, "How much do you know about my son?"

I was unsure how best to answer. Should I bluff my way through, but then I was hoping Grace and now her daughter to help. So I guess honesty is the best policy.

"Well, only what I've read in his books and what I've learned online. I'm barely at the tip of the iceberg." I shrugged.

"Mom," Amelia quickly whipped a finger across her throat to kill the conversation, "Chris said to keep quiet."

Note to self: Christian has a nickname, Chris.

She shook her head, "Darling I don't even know your name…" She placed a hand on my lap.

"Oh my apologies, Anastasia Steele, but I prefer Ana," our hands locked and I offered my hand to Amelia but she declined.

Note: Amelia is very protective of her family.

"Well, unfortunately, Ana, I don't know how much help I'll be. I haven't spoken to Christian in," she began looking at the ceiling as her fingers counted off, "oh too many years to number. I saw him briefly at his father's funeral. His mute behaviour made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with me or his siblings," she said as she waved the air around her, "He said he'd found peace… well away from—" she broke off, clamping her lips shut.

"Away from?" I was confused by her cryptic words.

"Everywhere." she panted out.

What the hell does that mean?

"Oh." I barely stated.

"Yes, ohhh, " Amelia repeated. "I know what you're trying to do, and stop prying Anastasia Steele," she whined out my name.

"Ana," I retorted, "There's no need to be formal."

I understood where Amelia was coming from, I was trying my best to remain calm and not push, but things weren't added up. I could read the pain in Grace's eyes, and not knowing how to react, I leaned forward and placed my hand over hers.

"I tried connecting with him after his father's death, but he made it clear that no matter what I had to say meant nothing." She wadded a tissue in her hands and kept her head lowered. "Why did I need to bring that man to the funeral?" she wept out loud.

"Mom, it's ok. The asshole is gone and Chris is finally living his life. So please don't stop yours. Move on." she sat beside her mother, rubbing her back.

Move on? How could this poor woman move on, she was heartbroken, and wanted her son back?

"So do you have any idea where Christian…" I paused, making sure that was his name, "is living?" I said, my heart thumping with hope and expectation.

Big break big break big break, I thought to myself mentally crossing my fingers.

"Ana, he's in the Northern Territory."

Was that within the Arctic Circle, possibly Canada, or was it further away in Europe or even Russia?

"Australia, Ana. He tried to remove himself from us, far away as possible."

"Oh." I dropped my head.

Australia was a large country, much larger than Washington State and I'll need more than a few vacation days to even attempt this search. How long does it take to fly to Australia? Let alone the Northern Territory?

Then it came to me, the Kakadu House publishing company, this references to Australia.

"He's outside the capital city of Darwin."

"Mom he's hours from Darwin." Amelia groaned under her breath.

"Dear, I can see you calculating and I've done it myself. It will take you a good 24 hours to get into Darwin, then you'll need to drive quite a few more."

Ok, this is good, so I have a timeline. 24 hours plus a few, then a quick interview, and back again. I should make it back to work on Monday. It's Wednesday, I can do this.

"Maybe you should give up before you start." Amelia groaned, it was obvious she was protecting her brother.

"Amelia! Ana can you give me a moment," she quickly got up and came back with a small notebook, "Here's a number…" she scrawled the information, "A Mr Jason Taylor. I've only met him once, but he's a true friend of my son. He works in the freight industry, hauling items back and forth," she said handed me his details. "I'm not sure how much luck you'll have, it's a challenging time of year, the weather, being so wet and unbearably hot."

"Mom what are you doing?" Amelia was frantic with the information which was being revealed. Viciously pointing towards her mother she couldn't find the words as her mouth opened and closed.

"I'm giving your brother a chance, and possibly this young woman an opportunity to reach her dream." Grace stated.

They both looked at one another like there was something much deeper, which they didn't want to discuss with my presence. Exactly what, was unknown.

"At least she's being honest Amelia," Grace said, "You can only imagine what lengths some tried, thinking I would divulge a slither of information leading to my son. At least you are admitting why you're doing this." she smiled at me.

"Yeah Mom, for her own gain!" Amelia scoffed. I couldn't disagree, it was the truth I was looking towards my big break.

"His stories…" Grace sighed looking away, "He always told these stories, with such violence."

"So you're referring to be BDSM and he told you stories, for years?"

Note: possible background in BDSM or undisclosed abuse? Research further.

She nodded, "But we, my husband and I, thought it was his imagination running wild, or at worst a sick fantasy. He was young, 14 or 15 when these stories started."

"But Grace, he's a romance writer, he must of…"

"Yes, yes, yes," she wiped her eyes, "Oh my darling Christian, he had such big dreams studying at Harvard business and suddenly it all changed. Then we lost him."

"Lost him?" I pulled back.

"He never forgave us you see…" Grace said. I instantly looked to Amelia trying to get something more. Grace, her voice trailed away as she methodically tore apart the tissue in her hands.

"Never forgave you?"

"I don't know all the details Ana but we all have an idea," she paused and I looked at Amelia's face it was cold and plank, "but we never listened or believed. All he wanted was to be loved and protected. As you maybe aware he was adopted—"

"I'm sorry Mother but I'm not playing a part in this. I don't want to lose my brother even further. This is not our story to share. I'll be expecting you for lunch on Sunday. Please, Mom, think of Christian and what it will mean to him."

Dusting her dress, she grabbed her coat and left. Grace flinched as her front door slammed and she waited to compose herself by taking a few deep breaths.

"Ana." She whispered as her hand patted my thigh, "Amelia is a handful, and my other son Elliot, oh he's not much better. She may not be showing it, but she's worried about her brother. Oh, Ana, Christian had a horrible childhood, his birth parents were abusive and neglectful."

"So the records are true, he was adopted,"

Grace nodded, picking at her tissue, "It scared him and scars where physical and emotional. Throughout his adolescence, he was such an angry young man, so violent. But it changed, like a flick of a switch. We thought he was growing up, taking responsibility. Things switched during college, he was a different person. Quit, packed up and left."

"He left?" were the only words I could manage.

"Yes, he traveled the world. It wasn't until his father's death, adoptive father, I hadn't seen him for about three years. He was happy but kept his distance. He didn't want anything to do with me. I don't understand and he shut us all out. It was like something broke him. He was a stubborn child and once that mind was set he would never change it, that's for sure. About a year after I saw him, I received a copy…" she got up again walking to the bookshelf, and handed me a hardback novel.

It was the book my own mother had mentioned to me, the debut novel Disciplined to Love, and there was a cane on the cover and the author's name C. Trevelyan-Grey. Grace opened the cover and on the front page was a handwritten message.

Mother,

If you only listened to my cries, comfort and helped me. I knew you were washed with lies, but I never thought you would take any word over your own son.

Yours forgotten,

CTG

"Oh Grace, I'm so sorry. I can't even comprehend what happened." I'm sure with my assumptions I can only imagine what occurred.

"It was horrible Ana, and I know it's affected him. Something like this you couldn't avoid being affected. I can read his pain in his novels." she wiped her eyes as the tears began to fall again.

"Why did he change his name?"

"He was trying to tell me to stay away. Remove my maiden name from his own. I truly wanted to speak to him, but I didn't have an address, a phone number he was a lost boy to me. When I noticed he republished with another publishing house here in America it was just his father's name, Grey. I'm waiting that he will let me back in. Oh, Ana, please find him, I'll wait for the rest of my life if needed. I want my boy back."

She removed the book from my hands and began to write in the book. She placed it in my hands and whispered, "Please give him this."

It was a message. A message I will never read as it was for her son's eyes only.

"Oh, Grace, what if… I—" I was lost for words.

"I wish I knew the man Christian had become. He would have been 28 on his last birthday. A man in his own right and all I want is to be a part of it."

I didn't need to question my decision, "Grace, I'll find him. I'll give him the book."

"Thank you. You are my guardian angel."

...

ARRIVING IN DARWIN was a reality check for a December morning. It was hot. Not like a summer in Seattle, think much warmer, possibly Satan's hell hole maybe a close assumption. It was deceiving at a constant 95 degrees, and the humidity could drown a small mammal. I was only surviving with my head above water. There was no point slapping on makeup because it would melt off. I did question myself if I should stay the night somewhere but I've come 24 hours of plane travel and another nine of stopovers. Time wasn't on my side, the goal was a fully written article so I needed to push myself, no matter how exhausted.

With a hand full of change, I slipped in some coins for the payphone. I punched in the ten digit number from memory.

"Yep." a husky voice answered.

I could only breathe hard, I didn't think it through what I would actually say or if the guy would actually answer.

"Hello? I can hear you breathn' Baz if that's you, hang on…" an inaudible what the fuck flicked into my ear, "You a telemarketer. I'm soz, I'm not buying no bullshit from—"

"Oh I'm sorry, My name is Anastasia Steele. I'm looking for a Mr Taylor." I bit my lip, please don't hang up.

"Jesus, you are trying to sell me bullshit?"

"What?… No, I'm a reporter and I need to get to a Mr Christian Grey. I was given your name, I am speaking with Mr Jason Taylor."

Please don't hang up, please don't hang up.

"Mr Taylor? Shit woman, I'm him. But fuck call me Tales."

"Tales?" he chuckled at my question.

"Is it possible if we could meet? I'm on a strict timeline and this is rather urgent."

"Why do you need to see Chris?"

"I need to give him something from his mother."

"Oh shit, Gracie. Is it urgent, fuck, where are you Merican Girl?"

"Somewhere in Darwin, at the airport."

"Good. Ok so here's the thing." He began to ramble with this think Australian accent, "Ya needa go to Katherine, and then I can get you through to Chris. Easy." He seemed so sure of himself like there is no problem because I'm not. Where's Katherine?

"Couldn't you give me Christian's address or phone number?"

"Haha, nope, not so easy missy. I'll be in Katherine soon, hopefully you will too."

"Soon as in tomorrow, next week?" Please say today.

"S'arvo."

"What?" I can't understand a word he's speaking, is it English?

"This af-ter-noon. Can. You. Un-der-stand. Me?" What a condescending asshole.

"Of course I do, I'll see you in a few hours and thank you again Mr Taylor."

"Fuck me, it's Tales. Only the Queen can call me Mr Taylor, or some kinky bitch."

"O-kay. See you."

And like that, it was set in stone. I was on my way meeting Christian Grey. The interview. My career. What can go wrong?

...

"FLIGHTS TO KATHERINE, start from $650, plus GST. If you book in advance usually you can get a better price but bec—" I cut the woman off. This is highway robbery. I'm traveling less than 200 miles how can it cost almost three weeks rent.

"Fine. Book the next available flight."

"There is one departing within the hour."

"Perfect." I hissed, snatching the boarding pass from her.

I rolled my suitcase and dwindling bank account to the gate and waited. Watching through the floor to ceiling windows, a small plane, taxied on the tarmac, to my gate. Oh God, it's tiny.

Three hours later, I was in another hot, sweaty town, too many hours to number since I've slept. Making my way to the nearest payphone I dialed Tales. He instructed to meet at his workshop, located on the quiet end of Katherine.

It was when I was introduced to a middle-aged Indigenous man, with a mouth that would make a sailor blush. He was at least clean and willing, that's all I needed.

"So Sheila will be our transport for this evening, I need to get to Tennant Creek before morning, but I can drop you off at Chris' place easy."

"It's a truck… a really big truck." I pointed, dropping my suitcase on the asphalt.

You can not be serious!

"Yeah I know," he laughed at my expense, bastard.

"But," I pointed to my heels. My poor heels they had been through hell and back in the last day, but a truck ride too.

"Just whip em off, do you need a hand up." He winked.

"No, I'll be fine." pushing his hand away.

At first, I struggled with my pencil skirt, but I made it.

"The wet is comin' so it needs to be a quick stay, right? I'll pick ya up as I'm heading back tomorrow afternoon."

I nodded, unsure exactly what he was telling me.

"I called Chris, he said he'll be running late, but make yourself at home."

"Really? He said that."

"Welllll," he drawled, as he started the engine and jerking back and forward within the cabin, we were away, "not exactly, rather… I don't want no reporter in my home." He quoted in the air letting the steering wheel go, "But you're pretty and Merican, and he's one you know." He gave me a wink, and quickly stumbled to steer the large vehicle.

"Yes, I met his mother and sister back in Seattle a few days ago."

"Ahhh Gracie, she's such a babe. If only she digged a black fella like me, we would have been the perfect match," he laughed at himself, and I cautiously laughed along, not entirely sure why.

"Why are you doing this for me Tales?"

He stopped contemplating for a moment, "Chris is a lonely brutha, every fella needs his mutha, ya know. He's always by himself, using that fancy computer, but he needs a woman. To open his eyes, to see the land," wiped a hand through the air, "stars, the ancestors of the Dreamtime," he pointed to the ceiling of the cab, "and a woman," his two hands cupped his chest, "like you, Ana Steele. You're kind-a of a looker know." What?

"So you've mentioned. I have something from his mother. A message." I patted my bag. "I don't think he's the only one who's lonely."

"Remember this fella is all bark and no bite, ok a bit of a bight, but not poisonous. He can be a crazy fucker at times, but softy once you peel back those layers hey."

"Why Tales, thank you for your open opinion of Christian and your generosity driving me to hi—."

"Woah, woah… back up there Merica Girl. You haven't met him yet. You might change your mind."

"What?"

He paused, "Nah just kidding," he laughed and then pulled his horn, to scare the kangaroos off the highway. Holy shit, I saw a kangaroo.

We drive in his truck for about three hours and eventually turn onto a dirt road.

"Is that safe?" I pointed to the red dirt.

"Yeah, don't worry not far now,"

When he said, 'not far now', my assumption was possibly a few minutes, in reality, it was over an hour later. He said the gate is too small for his truck to fit and he was dropping me off at the front.

"So it's maybe another 500, maybe 800 metres to his place, down there," he pointed beyond the trees into the darkness of the night.

"What's that in feet or miles?"

"500 to 800 metres, fuck I don't know. Not far."

"Well thank you Tales, I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

"Ha yeah, if that rain don't come. See ya Merica Girl."

I jumped from the side cab of the truck, and my feet landed on the soft dirt, quickly putting my heels back on since I knew Australia was known for its creepy crawlies and I don't want these toes to touch them.

It was dark, peaceful, and HOT! The sky was awashed with stars. I wasn't entirely sure what time it was. Sounds blew in the slight breeze, with her head bowed I struggled with everything against me, including my heels, sinking into the dirt. I swear I heard a sound of a wolf. Are there wolves in Australia, or is it a dingo?

Oh, Fuck.

Looking up, I squinted, and what I saw caused my heart to shoot up my throat. It was an animal, I swear a fucking wolf, and it was racing towards me…. fast. At a pace, I won't be able to outrun. Kicking off my heels, and abandoning them, this was a life and death sacrifice. I ran, dumping my suitcase, in the sense I could run faster. The soft soil was making it nearly impossible to make headway as my toes slightly sank with every step.

Then it happened.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stumbled. Face first in the sandy dirt. Spitting out the bitter remnants. My pencil skirt was giving me grief and I quickly hiked it up. The level of underwear showing was high, but fucks given to live were even higher. It was no use, the wolf, beast, dingo or whatever it was… it was almost on top of me.

I love you, Momma, Dad… Luke, you have been a great friend. Lincoln I fucking hate you, why did I take up this assignment.

FUCK!

Screaming, I twisted around and bunched my fists over my face, in hope, I could survive the beast.