Chapter Forty-three

After breakfast in bed—willingly served by Ana, though she pretended to do so under duress; further honoring Christian's "victory"—the Greys are once again in each other's arms, reclining against the many pillows while Ana idly toys with his chest hairs, when Christian suggests, "Twenty minutes?"

"Go ahead."

"I have a demand, a proposal and a request for you."

Ignoring that part of her that hears the word "demand" as a challenge, Ana smiles and says, "I'm listening."

Gently stroking Ana's hair as he speaks, Christian says, "Part of why Lucy survived is that she was able to keep her head above water, even with the weight of saturated winter clothing. So our children will all learn to swim as soon as they're physically able."

Nodding, Ana says, "We live in Seattle. I think that's an excellent idea. Did you think I'd fight you on this?"

"No. Just making sure you understand how I feel about it. I know that…my own upbringing has taught me that, no matter now careful we are…fuck, sorry; something I'm still working on with Flynn."

While Christian brings his panicked body back under control, Ana guesses the reason for his disquiet and feels an echo of his horror at the idea when she reminds them both, "One day they'll be in danger and we won't be there."

The lack of emotion in his voice confirming how much the idea scares him, Christian finds the courage to say, "Yes. Part of our job is to ensure that, when that day comes, they're equipped to cope without us."

"I don't like to consider it, but I agree with you. One good thing about Mom often not being available is that I learned to look after myself."

"I'm not sure that's the model I'd want to use, but you have the general idea."

Noting his tone, Ana lifts her head to look at him and ask, "I thought you two were getting along?"

Christian shrugs and confesses, "I don't like who she is since we came here. She's barely come out of her room. When she does, it's to complain about something."

Of course familiar with this side of her mother, Ana rests her head against his chest and feels somewhat disloyal when she says, "Mom doesn't do well alone."

"She's not."

"No, I mean…she doesn't so well without a man around. She's missing Bob."

"Fuck, she's submissive. I should have known."

"Maybe. I dunno. We've never talked about it. I just know that she kind of falls to pieces between men."

"Trust me on this, baby. Carla may not be aware of it, but she craves instruction from a dominant personality. Fuck, that makes so much sense. In that case, I have another request; permission to boss your mother around?"

Again lifting her head to look at him, Ana warily asks, "You want to dominate my mother."

Christian laughs at the look on her face and quickly kisses her before explaining, "Not like that, baby. I just want to snap her out of this sulk, so you can enjoy the rest of our time with her."

Still unsure, Ana asks, "You won't bully her?"

"Not physically. I'll just be Drill Sargent Grey for a day. But not if you have a real problem with it. She's your mom."

"All right. But, just…go easy, okay? I don't want to drive her away when we're closer than we've ever been."

Christian grins and says, "Trust me."

"I do. Your other request?"

"First my proposal." Taking a deep breath, Christian reveals, "I want to stay at home with the baby, at least until they start preschool."

The words keep playing over and over in Ana's head, but it's no good, and she eventually asks, "What?"

Again, that grin she adores, and he repeats, more slowly, "I want to stay at home with the baby."

Shaking her head, utterly confused, Ana points out, "It's only been months since you totally freaked out about the very idea of a baby. Now you want to…what…quit your job, so you can stay home and change diapers?"

His expression fearful, but his tone sincere, Christian says, "Effectively, yes, though I'm not actually retiring. Obviously, I'll need help. But Mom is only a phone call away, and Gail is a fully qualified nanny, though she's a little out of practice. But I'm sure babies haven't changed that much since she last cared for one. Her first aid knowledge is current, because that's a requirement of all our personal staff."

"Fuck, you're serious." When he only nods, his expression guarded, Ana says, "You're terrified."

"Abso-fucking-lutely. But I don't want our son raised by a stranger. And your career is just starting. However, I can pretty much run things from home; my two lieutenants, Dan and Ros, are doing a depressingly excellent job of replacing me." With a shrug, he continues, "I know it won't be easy, especially at first, but I really think I can do this…I want to do this."

Trying to picture it; Christian Grey as a stay-at-home dad, Ana gives up and instead asks, "How is this a proposal? Sounds more like you've decided."

"Well, for a start, it will require your cooperation. I'm not stupid. I know this will be hard. Also, I'd like you to, when he's old enough for preschool, cut back on your hours enough to pick up our son every week day and spend the afternoon with him, while I again take up the reins at GEH. I don't want any of our children to spend more time with their bodyguard than they do with us."

Ana again tries to imagine what that life would be like, but her normally vivid imagination falls short and she says only, "This is huge."

"Yes. What do you think?"

Mindful of his wounds, Ana shuffles so she can lean on his chest and cradle his face with both hands as she warmly says "I think you're fucking amazing," before rewarding him with a long, tender kiss.

Smiling slightly, Christian is justifiably smug as he asks, "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yes. I mean, as you say, it won't be easy and we'll have to work out the details. But I love it. I don't want our children raised by staff…not even staff like we have."

They kiss again, then just hold each other for a while. Finally, Ana asks, "Oh, your second request?"

Shuffling a little, as if embarrassed, Christian says, "I…if our second child is female, would you stay home with her? I can't seem to refuse girls anything. If we have a daughter, I'm screwed if I spend all day with her."

Ana laughs and says, "Scared of a newborn baby, Christian? And, if we have a daughter, you're screwed anyway. But it seems fair that I take the second child…oh, but I'll have two to look after."

"Obviously, I'll help; just not fulltime. Deal?"

Struggling not to laugh from sheer joy, Ana agrees, "Deal." When he says nothing else, she asks, "That's it?"

"For now. As you say, we'll need to work out the details, but it can wait until we get back. Do you have anything you wish to discuss?"

"Are you aware that you called me 'darling' last night?"

"I did?" With a small laugh, Christian says, "I guess that answers your question. No, I don't remember doing so, but I'm not surprised; you really are a darling. So, did you like it?"

"I did, very much. Though I'm surprisingly okay with 'baby' and even 'girl', nowadays."

"You don't like it when I call you 'baby'?"

"Not what I said. Before meeting you, when I heard or read that term, it seemed kind of patronizing, even demeaning. But it's different when you say it; I feel loved, cherished…special."

Visibly relaxing, Christian says, "Good. You are."

Nervous, despite this opportunity to ask something that she's wondered for a while, Ana quietly asked, "What did she…what did Elena call you?" At his wary expression, she adds, "I just want to understand."

After considering for a moment longer, Christian says, "Mostly 'darling boy'. If I'd pleased her greatly, she'd call me 'my beautiful man'. Uh, outside the playroom, and when she attended family functions, she'd refer to me as 'pet'. It's not something anyone would think was out of place, given that she's overgenerous with such terms, but I knew it was a reminder that I belonged to her." When Ana is silent for several seconds, he pleads, "Some idea what you're thinking, baby? You know this topic makes me nervous."

Flexing her hand a little, where it rests on his chest, Ana says, "It sounds…kind of loving."

Christian shrugs and says, "I'm sure it was; kind of. Elena maintains that she's incapable of love, but I thought the same thing of myself, until you proved me wrong. I don't think she ever really loved me…and I'm no longer convinced I felt that for her. But it was close, I think…closer than I've had with any other woman, besides you."

"Did she…was Elena…how weird is it that I feel the urge to respect even her privacy?"

His expression grim, Christian reads her mind and reveals, "Yes, her start to life was pretty horrific, and you already know that her ex-husband, Linc, is a vicious, vengeful bastard. But that's Elena's past, baby, and all I'll say on the matter."

Clearly, that particular subject is closed. So Ana finally finds the courage to ask, "And…and she taught you…about pleasing a woman?"

Christian is quiet for so long, she's sure he won't reply. But then he says, "Yes, though every woman is different, but I learned the basics from her." After a sigh, he asks, "Is this going to be a problem for us?"

After giving it some thought, Ana says, "I don't think so. The person you were back then seems very different to the man I married."

"He is."

"And…she beat you?"

"Technically; yes, though only within my limits, and with my consent, always. I could have used a safeword at any time."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I could handle the pain. In fact, she chastised me on finding out that I often kept silent way past the point of pleasure. Elena does not share my aversion to leaving marks on her lovers, though she likewise avoids anything that will do permanent damage. So I was never in danger that way, even with a desire to prove myself by accepting everything she dished out. But she, uh, she used to try and restrain me and, in the early days, would even attempt to touch my chest or back; misguidedly convinced that it would help me get over my phobias. Usually, it ended badly; with me accidentally hurting her or almost catatonic with fear…sometimes both. Flynn says she probably made it worse for a while, though I truly believe she meant well."

"That's the memory you wanted to do that time in Flynn's office?"

"One of them, yes. I can do it now, if you'd like? But I don't need to. Flynn says that now I'm over the worst of my PTSD, I don't have to dredge up every bad memory."

After considering, Ana sits up to face him and says, "How about, instead, you show me everything she never got to do?"

Christian's eyes light up and he asks, "Mrs. Grey, do you intend to fuck me like I've never been fucked before?"

Elated that they've once again discussed Elena without either of them getting too upset, Ana finally releases that joyful laugh and promises, "I do, indeed, Mr. Grey."

A delighted grin spreads over his face, and Christian says, "Then you'd better lock the door, baby, so we can ensure that you're the only person who will ever see me spread-eagled and bound to an antique brass bed."

Ana probably sets a new land speed record locking the door and finding improvised restraints. They're both grinning like teenagers as they prepare for the scene. With Christian on the bed, arms and legs wide, his erection well underway and growing, Ana only then remembers to be nervous. "You're sure about this? I know it went well with the handcuffs that one time, but it was a while ago."

With a serene smile, Christian reassures, "I'm sure, baby. Last night, when you woke me by kissing my chest, I realized how far I've progressed. In the past, that would have been enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack, ending with one of us unconscious on the floor." At her horrified expression, he quickly appeases, "Hey, it's okay. I got past that point before we met, or I would have warned you about it."

"Oh, okay. So, you didn't feel any panic?"

Searching for the right words, Christian eventually says, "More like an echo or memory of panic, as if my body thought I was in danger, but my brain knew different. You'll never deliberately hurt me."

"No. I won't." Then dispelling the past with a deep sigh, Ana uses the soft "ropes" to tie him to the metal bedposts as she says, "You're stuck now, Grey; tying knots was part of my education as the daughter of a Marine."

Christian laughs—the warm, throaty sound confirming that he's relaxed—and comments, "Though I'm guessing Ray didn't ever imagine you making this use of the knowledge."

Giggling at the thought of her dad's reaction to that news, Ana says, "No, I guess not." Satisfied that Christian is not only unable to escape, but exactly where he wants to be, she continues, "Right: rules of this game; you must listen to my commands and do exactly as I say, you must be completely honest with me, and you must promise that, if we ever split up, you never do this with—"

"We're not going to split up, baby. I'm in this for—"

Summoning what she hopes is a stern glare, Ana points out, "You've just broken the first rule."

Apparently, she isn't very convincing, because Christian only laughs again and says, "Sorry, baby. I solemnly promise that, in the incredibly unlikely event that we ever split up, I will never let anyone fuck me like you're about to. Any other rules?"

"Nope. Okay; what have I called you that cannot imagine anyone else ever doing so?"

Christian considers for a few seconds. When he grimaces, as if in pain, she guesses just before he reluctantly says, "Chrissy Boy."

Unable to stop the joyous laughter at his expense, Ana soon reins it in and says, "Don't worry, Chrissy Boy, you'll like the name a lot more by the time I'm finished with you."

Her heart actually aches for him when a grumpy but resigned Christian pouts, "I'm not so sure. When do we get to the fucking part of this game?"

Laughter only moments away—a permanent effervescence of happiness within—Ana says, "What happened to the guy who used to extol the virtues of anticipation?"

Apparently dead serious, Christian says, "He met the love of his life and realized that he didn't want to wait anymore."

Actually trembling a little in response to the words "love of his life", Ana says, "Fuck, Christian, I'm trying to play Domme here. You can't say stuff like that and turn my insides to goo."

Breathing a laugh, he asks, "Goo?"

Recovering a little, Ana replies, "Goo. I can't be all soft and squishy inside and dominant at the same time."

With a shrug, he nevertheless manages to look smug as he says, "Your rules specified complete honesty, Mrs. Grey. And I've already had a Domme, remember?"

Quickly blocking that image with an imaginary concrete wall, Ana realizes, "Oh, right. This is harder than I thought. Any suggestions?"

"Well, that's a good start; only with you have I ever collaborated on a scene. Uh…anything on the chest is all Ana Grey…oh, and kissing like we do."

Shaking her head in an effort to process his words, Ana eventually asks, "Kissing? You've never kissed anyone before me? But, I thought you said that Elena…?"

Rolling his eyes, Christian says, "Of course, I've kissed, Ana. How do you think I know how to do it? But it was never like…we're often tender and gentle. That's not something I wanted before you." When Ana starts silently removing his bonds, he nervously asks, "Baby?"

Struggling not to weep happy tears at the depths of her feelings for this brave, talented, tortured and loving man, Ana says, "Just realized that there's something we do that you've never done with anyone else; we're going to tenderly and gently make love to each other."

Helping her with the knots once she's released one of his wrists, Christian's voice holds only love when he agrees, "Yes, dear."

Now showered, dressed, fed and fucked, Christian is practically whistling as he makes his way to Carla's door. A polite rap is ignored, a slightly more insistent one is answered with a bleary and belligerent, "All right, already." On opening the door, Carla looks a little guilty and holds her robe closer around her body as she says, "Christian. Everything okay?"

"Everything is wonderful, Carla. But it's time to get dressed. Pru is taking us on a tour of the countryside, finishing with lunch at the pub where she works. More snow fell overnight, so dress warm."

"I'm sorry, Christian, but I'm not feeling well today."

Quickly taking in everything about her appearance—clammy skin, one hand clutching her stomach, bloodshot eyes almost shut against the light, the fact that she's leaning on the doorjamb as if she can't stand unaided—Christian is immediately concerned. "Yes, you don't look well. Can I do anyth…?"

Following his glance into the room, Carla guesses what caught his attention and says, "Uh, Bree and I made a night of it." Misinterpreting his glare, she hurriedly adds, "Oh, but she didn't have much. I'm sure she's fit for work this morning."

Ignoring her feeble attempts to stop him, Christian pushes past into the room, saying, "Bree's an alcoholic. She hasn't touched a drop in over twenty years. Plus, she was with Ana and the girls in town until late. You need more practice lying, Carla." Then lifting the practically empty vodka bottle from its insufficient hiding place under the bed, he holds it up and adds, "Though I'm guessing you've had quite a bit of practice already. How long?"

Somehow managing to not look at the bottle, even as he gestures with it, Carla holds the door open and says, "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, I really am feeling under the weather. You kids go have fun. I'll catch up with you later."

He knows this game. Hell, he played it with his parents often enough. Not yet angry, he calmly says, "I'm not going anywhere until you start telling me the truth. So, unless you want others to hear this conversation, I suggest you close that door."

Somewhat subdued, Carla pleads, "All right. But I need to use the bathroom. Can we do this another time?"

Even in the stately opulence of Elspeth Hall, not every room has an en suite, with Ana receiving such dispensation because she's pregnant. So Christian knows Carla will have to head down the corridor. The possibility of her fleeing in a robe and night clothes seems remote, especially through a fresh snowdrift, so he shrugs and says, "I'll wait."

Now avoiding even his gaze, Carla grabs her handbag and leaves without a word. When she's gone, he notices the untouched vanity bag and guesses that she's destroying evidence while away. But it won't do her any good, now that he has an answer for her seemingly inconsistent behavior; not just on this journey, but throughout Ana's life. A remembered conversation from yesterday suddenly makes sense. A quick check of recent emails on his brand new Blackberry provides evidence that only he might recognize. By then Carla has returned, looking much better, having bothered to brush her hair and dab on a little makeup. Again, a pointless exercise; he saw her without the armor. He remains silent, giving her this chance to choose honesty.

Smiling, she cheerfully lies, "I misspoke earlier, sorry. I was barely awake, after all. It was Barb, not Bree." Forcing a small laugh, she adds, "No wonder you were confused."

Game on, Mommie Dearest. "I just checked receipts for this trip. In every single place we've stayed, you've apparently left the minibar untouched; not even a bottle of water or bag of cashew nuts, even though I told you to help yourself. So you must have paid in cash, because you knew I'd find out if you charged it to the room. Yesterday, Nan was asking who left money in the liquor cabinet when they took an opened bottle of booze; she doesn't require such consideration from family, but you couldn't have known that. And, it was vodka, the choice of secret drinkers everywhere. Plus, I'd be willing to bet my entire fortune that there's now a hip-flask or half-bottle hidden in the bathroom you just left." Confirmation, if he needed it, is in the flicker of panic in her eyes before the no doubt well-worn mask of nonchalance falls back into place. Giving no sign that he noticed this silent confession, Christian continues, "But you needn't have bothered. I'm not going to force you to fix this, because only you can do so. How long have you had a drinking problem?" When she remains stubbornly and defiantly silent, he more gently continues, "I drank heavily and secretly for about five years, beginning when I was ten years old. Not even Ana knows that much, though she's aware that I occasionally drink to excess and will always struggle with that urge when I'm under great strain."

Her eyes widening at this revelation, Carla says, "But…I've seen you drink; you only ever have one or two."

Knowing she'll understand, he simply says, "Exactly; more becomes dangerous and, if I intend to get drunk, I'll drink alone."

There; right there, he sees comprehension and surrender. Lowering her head to stare at her hands as they twitch over each other in distress, Carla quietly confesses, "On and off pretty much since Frank died…though I was a wild teen, too. Ana doesn't know. Bob suspects, I think, but I've gotten very good at hiding it. Only Ray really knows. It's one of the reasons we broke up. When things aren't going well, I…" Then blinking several times as she fights the urge to cry, Carla begs, "Please don't tell Ana."

Not yet to the point where he knows what to do about Carla's secret, Christian ignores the question and asks, "How bad is it? Do you get the shakes when you can't drink?"

Biting her bottom lip in that subconscious gesture of disquiet that he's familiar with from her daughter, Carla merely shakes her head.

"You usually stop at three drinks. What happened last night?"

Still wringing her hands in distress, Carla says, "I got scared. I've let Ana down in so many ways, and I truly want to make up for it as a Grandma, but….that child almost drowning…that could have been Ana, because I was so often alone with her, and I couldn't…" The tears finally start falling as she simply repeats, "I got scared."

"You're worried that you'll let her down again; her and the baby." Though it wasn't a question, she nods, and Christian takes a deep breath before revealing, "The last time I got drunk was the night she told me that I'm going to be a father. You're not the only one who lives with the fear of fucking things up. But if vodka is your standard coping mechanism, then you have a decision to make." At Carla wary, questioning look, he explains, "Unless you get sober, and I mean really sober; rehab and therapy, then you will never be alone with my children. And, I've never lied to Ana; if she asks me why, I'll tell her."

As if he's punched her, Carla crumples and sits on the bed, head falling to her hands as she wails, "I can't…I don't know if I can do it."

Squatting before her, Christian gently pulls her hands away from her face, so she'll look at him, and earnestly commands, "You can. It won't be easy. But you can do this. For now, you have an hour to get ready…maybe reapply your makeup; you look like a raccoon."

Managing a weak laugh, Carla asks, "Why are you so good to me?"

Standing, helping Carla to her feet as he does so, Christian says, "Ana loves you. Hardly scientific, I know. But it's good enough for me." Suddenly remembering, he asks, "Is this why you don't drive?"

"Yes. There was always someone…some boy, willing to drive me anywhere I needed when I was younger. Frank was going to show me how, but…anyway, I figured that, if I didn't know how to drive, I could never put Ana in that much danger. Bad enough that I…" Her expression entreating, it's virtually a whimper when Carla asks, "Do you think she could ever forgive me?"

Daring to put his hands either side of her face, Christian kisses her forehead and says, "I'm certain of it." Then heading for the door, he says, "One hour, Carla. If you're not ready, I'll come get you."

"What about…?"

Christian turns to see her pointedly glancing at the vodka bottle, now sitting on the nightstand. "Like I said, Carla, you have a choice to make. I can pay for your rehabilitation if necessary, lend a supportive ear and be a shoulder to cry on. But that will be the extent of my involvement, and only if you ask for help. It's up to you. For now, I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened and hope that Ana is right to put her faith in you."

Carla is again weeping, but nods her comprehension. He's closing the door on her when she quietly prays, "Me, too."

Christian isn't quite to his room when he encounters Lea. "Oh, sir. I was just on my way to see you. There're news' vans parked outside the gate this morning; presumably a reaction to that incident at the lake yesterday. With your permission, I'd like to contact the company and put some people on it; make sure none of them get too pushy? Extra expense, of course, but it'll make life easier for you and Mrs. Grey."

Not very surprised, Christian offers a wry grin and says, "No good deed goes unpunished, right? Yes, call your boss; put as many on it as you think we need. Thanks, for thinking of it. Nigel preparing the car?"

Suddenly looking embarrassed, for the first time since he's known her, Lea says, "Uh, no. He's…unofficially, he thinks of you as his charge, with Mrs. Grey being my responsibility. Yesterday was the first time you've been in real danger since we took this gig, and he wasn't here."

Christian laughs and says, "Oh, he's sulking?" At her nod, he continues, "Well, if we have reporters to dodge, he'll get to show off his driving skills again."

"That's the other thing; Ms. Lambert…Ann, says that there's a seldom used track through the woods that will bypass the crowd, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to risk Mrs. Grey on it?"

Remembering how often, and how vigorously, they've fucked since she ran into his arms last night, Christian chuckles and says, "I think she'll be just fine, thank you. I presume Nigel will take it easy?"

"Yes, sir. And the precaution of snow chains, to match the terrain."

When she says nothing else, Christian continues towards his room, saying, "Good plan. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

He hasn't long been back in the bedroom when there's a knock at the door. Ana answers it. "Mom. How are you? Christian said you weren't feeling well earlier? You're still coming with us, right?"

Carla is visibly distressed and audibly swallows before saying, "Uh, I'm fine, sweetie. I was wondering if we could talk? There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while. And Christian helped me understand that it needs to be now."

Understandably utterly confused, Ana looks from her husband to her mother and back, saying, "Uh, okay…sure. Did you want Christian here for this?"

"He knows. So I don't mind, either way."

Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Christian makes the decision. "I think I'll check that everything is ready for our day trip. I'll be about thirty minutes." Bothering to kiss Carla's cheek on the way out, he adds, "Well done."

He doesn't need to check anything; that's why he has the best staff money can buy. Instead, he catches up on emails for thirty minutes, then returns to the room and knocks, opening it only when Ana bids him enter. She's alone, sitting in an armchair and has obviously been crying. Only now afraid what she might think of his involvement, he nervously asks, "Are we okay?"

When Ana reaches out an entreating hand to him, he knows that he's in the clear, and gratefully drops to his knees beside her, taking her hand and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"My mother is an alcoholic."

"Actually, I don't think it's quite that bad, sweetheart. She's easily able to drink a moderate amount and stop, and it sounds like she's dry for long stretches at a time. But I agree that she has a big problem, and needs professional help to get over this. What did she tell you?"

Fighting the urge to weep, Ana reveals, "That's she often been at least a little drunk for most of my life, hung-over for a fair part of the rest. Fuck, everything makes so much sense now."

"Yes, that's almost exactly what I thought when I realized."

"You only knew this morning?"

"Yes, baby. Though, you should know, I would have kept her secret if she hadn't been ready to tell you; obviously, offering what assistance I could. But, now that she's come clean, we can both help her get over this; help her be a better grandmother than she was a mother."

When Ana starts to stand, Christian guesses and lifts her into his arms before sitting down with her on his lap. Curled up as best as her pregnant form will permit, Ana apparently doesn't need more tears, but she does stay snuggled against him for several minutes, while he soothingly caresses her back.

Finally, she sighs and says, "Thank you, darling. If you hadn't gone to bully her, we might never have found out about this. I had no idea. She's already told Bob…poor guy; being woken in the middle of the night for this conversation. In her eagerness to get the ball rolling, she totally forgot about the time difference. Apparently, he wasn't very surprised and will look into rehab centers in Savannah, for when she returns. They'll let us know if they need money for it. I knew you wouldn't mind that I offered, and Mom said you already had, thank you. I feel…I honestly feel hopeful about this. Admitting that she has a problem and asking for help is the first big step, right?"

His heart aching at this brave acceptance of what she must know will be a difficult task, Christian promises, "Yes, baby. It's the biggest step. Everything will be all right now."

She's again quiet for a while and then quietly reveals, "I thought she was here to talk about Steve; you know, her third husband?"

Recalling that Ana's usually sharp instincts warned her to be wary of the guy, Christian can't keep the anger from his voice as he says, "I remember."

"Yes, he did abuse her…though Mom describes it as slapping her around a little. Apparently, he is an alcoholic, and a mean drunk. I knew there was something off about him. Thank God she had the sense to get away from him."

"Thank all the Gods that you did. Can I hurt him, yet?"

Managing a small laugh, Ana looks up and rests a hand on the side of his face as she says, "Not on my account." Her grin confirming that she's joking, she adds, "Though Mom might take you up on that offer." Then serious, she reaffirms, "I love you, Christian."

Because it's worked in the past, and she obviously needs cheering up, Christian grins and says, "You kind of want to fuck me right now, don't you?"

Where credit's due: "Mommie Dearest" is a 1981 film, adapted from a book of the same name, supposedly detailing the life of Joan Crawford. If you've seen it, you'll know that assigning Carla that nickname is a little harsh, but Christian didn't say it out loud, and he was pretty angry at the time.