Author's warning: In the extremely unlikely event that you're British and intimately familiar with the names "Mark Tissiman" and "Sarah James", together, you might want to give this one a miss, and I apologize for the reminder.

Chapter Forty-four

Christian orchestrates a moment alone with Bree before he heads to the car. "Did you know that Carla has a drinking problem?"

Her eyebrows shooting up in surprise, Bree says, "No, sir. She was hung-over that first morning, but it didn't seem out of place, given that several of her in-laws were in the same state. And I haven't noticed anything suspicious…not that I was looking. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Okay, thanks."

Frowning, Bree asks, "Why did you mention this, sir? Of course, I won't say anything, but you're usually pretty tight-lipped about…well, everything."

Smiling a little at that, Christian says, "True enough. I just wondered…I don't think she's actually physically addicted, which means the prognosis is good, if we can get her a decent shrink. And…fuck, you know why I thought you might have spotted signs of addiction." Unable to remain impassive, he can feel his ears redden as he hints at how much he knows of Bree's past.

Apparently unconcerned, Bree nods and says, "Your researchers are thorough. Thank you, for recognizing that I could still be of benefit to Mrs. Grey."

Glad that he hasn't offended this caring, compassionate and extremely capable woman, Christian grins and reveals, "Our wedding cake had the words, 'Every saint has a past—"

"Every sinner has a future," laughs Bree, then revealing a silver bracelet on one wrist with the very quote inscribed around it. "I think that everyone gets to royally fuck up once in their life, if you'll pardon my French, sir."

Smiling, Christian is suddenly moved to plead, "I'll pardon it if you move to Seattle." Again expressing shock, Bree still hasn't replied when he more seriously continues, "I'm not a fool. Ana will have to endure chemotherapy and maybe radiotherapy after our son is born. And, even with that, she'll…"

When he doesn't continue, Bree doesn't quite touch his arm in sympathy as she confirms, "There's a good chance that you'll both have to go through this again in about five years."

A solid block of restrained tension, Christian clips, "Yes."

He knows, from her rueful expression, that she'll refuse him. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sure you'd make it worth my while, financially. And I genuinely enjoy working for both of you. But my home, my family, and his ashes are here."

Not very surprised, Christian is able to summon a genuine smile and say, "Some of us only love once, don't we?"

"Yes, sir. In my experience, once is enough, if you do it right."

Meanwhile, Ana has likewise ambushed Pru and, after a typically exuberant greeting, asks, "Uh, Mom and I are…would you mind sitting beside Christian in the car? I feel the need to be close to my Mommy, today."

Her eyes sparkling with humor, Pru somehow manages to keep a straight face when she grasps Ana's forearms for a second and "solemnly" vows, "Babe, for you, I'd even sit in his lap."

Ana laughs and says, "No, you fucking won't. Thanks. Now I just have to convince Christian."

Still with a hint of a grin, Pru vows, "I'll behave myself, I promise. You and Carla okay?"

Still a little in shock from her mother's revelation, Ana says, "Yeah, I think so. She…just you, okay?" When Pru finally appears serious and crosses her heart, Ana continues, "She might…she has a drinking problem."

"Fuck. For how long?"

"Forever, near as I can tell; only found out this morning when she 'fessed up and promised to get professional help. It explains so much that was confusing as hell when I was a kid. I…" With a stilted attempt at laughter, Ana reveals, for the first time, to anyone, "I actually wondered…sometimes, I thought she didn't want me around, because I reminded her of my father."

"Fuck." Obviously about to add something, Pru instead shuts her mouth, is silent for a several seconds, then manages a wry grin and adds, "Just 'fuck'!"

Incredibly relieved that Pru is so supportive…in her own, coarse way, Ana spontaneously hugs her cousin/friend and says, "I'm so glad you're here. Please come to the States, real soon. I'll even send the jet for you."

Pru retreats from the embrace and affectionately punches Ana's arm, saying, "Send a fucking jet for me. Who the hell are you people?"

Ana giggles, feeling somehow…lighter, just having told someone her biggest fear, and says, "We're your colonial cousins, so you'd better get used to it."

"Fair enough." Grabbing her purse and gesturing that they should head out, Pru continues, "In that case, you can pay for lunch. Which I suppose will be a very dry affair, because I don't like to drink alone."

"You think Mom will stop drinking right away?"

Pru shrugs and says, "That's what happened whenever my dad tried to quit."

"Your dad had a drinking problem?"

"Has, babe. Though I'm guessing he can't get hold of anything stronger than light Limeade since diabetes, cirrhosis and other consequences put him into hospice care."

Mortified that this permanently cheerful and affectionate woman has suffered any hardship, Ana can only think to say, "Fuck, I'm sorry, Pru."

Another shrug and Pru reveals, "It's okay. I got out of there when I was thirteen. Nan took me in and I've lived here ever since. She's been a better parent to me than either Mum or Dad."

"Fuck."

Pru laughs, that wonderful and—given what she's endured—surprisingly carefree sound, then says, "Nan doesn't like that word, but sometimes nothing else will do, right?"

Finally leading them through the house, Ana agrees, "Exactly. Though I use it a lot more since meeting Christian."

Pru practically cackles and teases, "Do it more, too, I'm guessing."

With a half-hearted glare and an immediate flush to her cheeks and neck, Ana mutters "Shut up," not quite able to meet Pru's gaze.

Suddenly grabbing her cousin's arm and peering at her face, Pru hisses, in a loud whisper, "Fuck; he's your first."

Apparently still unable to discuss this subject without feeling embarrassed, Ana's blush only deepens. Since it's pretty much an admission, anyway, she confesses, "My only."

Glancing around for a second, Pru drags Ana through a door—apparently, into a large linen closet; the light automatically switching on as they enter—and nervously whispers, "I've never…you know."

Genuinely shocked, given the teenager's constant flirting and innuendo, Ana is stunned into silence for a while, then says, "Uh, okay. And we needed to urgently have this conversation in a cupboard because?"

Actually blushing—Ana wasn't even sure if the younger woman was capable of doing so—Pru meekly confesses, "I like Nigel."

"Oh, my God; is that why you were trying to get him to dance last night? He got very annoyed, as I recall. I told you he's not allowed to do stuff like that when he's on duty."

"I know. I'm sorry. But I'd had a few cocktails and…fuck, he's gorgeous, isn't he?"

Ana laughs and says, "Sure, if you like that tall, dark, incredibly muscular look. I still don't get why we're having this conversation in a cupboard, and we're going to be late."

"He likes me. I know he does. I've never fucked, but I've been around guys enough to know when one is attracted to me. And we nearly did it the other night. But, when I told him that I've never…he said that I'm too young for him."

Wondering if the word "virgin" freaks out all good men, Ana asks, "How old is he; can't be more than thirty?"

"He's twenty-nine. That's only ten years. You and Christian are about the same, right?"

"Bit less. Pru, can you please get to the point? They're probably all waiting for us."

"Well, how did you get your man? Does the age difference matter much day-to-day? And was the sex good the first time? I've heard it hurts."

Oh, fuck. "Uh, Pru, I'm hardly the expert on men. Isn't there an older woman who can help you out with this stuff?"

"I'm only really close with Nan, and there's no fucking way I'm asking a woman in her seventies about sex; especially one who never married. Besides, I don't know what would be worse; me finding the courage to ask and her not knowing anything useful, or darling old Nan having all the answers."

Laughing at Pru's comical expression of disgust, Ana relents. "Okay. But can we do this later? I don't want to spend hours in the car with a grumpy Christian."

Pushing the door open, Pru says, "Technically, I'll be with a grumpy Christian, but—"

"Why would I be grumpy?"

Having bounced off his chest as she exited, Pru almost falls and is easily righted by Christian as she exclaims, "Fuck! You scared the shit out of me. Why are you lurking out here like a perv, and how much did you hear?"

Giving no clue as to what he's feeling, Christian says, "I was making my way to the car and heard Ana's laughter coming from a closet, so thought I'd investigate. Why would I be grumpy?"

Wondering just how much trouble she's in, Ana moves into the corridor, explaining, "Uh, I was hoping that you wouldn't mind sitting next to Pru, so that I can spend some time with Mom? Pru knows why."

Clearly disappointed with the plan, Christian studies Ana for a few seconds then says, "Sure, baby. If that's what you want." Then eyeing them both, he asks, "And the reason you needed to have this conversation in a linen closest?"

Unwilling to betray Pru's confidence, Ana settles for, "Uh, we also had secret women's business to discuss."

His guarded, frowning expression making her certain that he'll want more information later, Christian nevertheless says, "All right." Then offering Pru his elbow, he suggests, "Shall we?"

Grinning, Pru slips her arm through his and glances back at Ana to say, "I could get used to this."

Not genuinely concerned, Ana says, "I wouldn't, if I were you."

Apparently now at ease, Christian stage-whispers to Pru, "Better behave yourself; my wife can be just a teensy bit jealous." Confident that he can take it, when he's in such a good mood, Ana thwacks him on the butt; the sound of it loud in the empty corridor. Worried that she's overstepped the mark, when he suddenly stops and his body tenses, she only remembers to again breathe when, without looking around, he leads Pru on, saying, "Like I said."

Carla is already in the car, and is clearly surprised when Ana takes the seat next to her, saying, "Okay if I sit with you today?"

With a glance at Christian, who only smiles, Carla nervously says, "Sure, honey."

With all his passengers secured and ready, Nigel starts the engine. Seated behind his wife and mother-in-law, Christian watches as Ana silently rests her open hand on the armrest as an invitation to her mom, who hesitates only a moment before accepting the selfless gesture. He can't see Carla's face, but he'd bet good money that there are grateful tears in her eyes. On noticing that Pru has also seen and is watching his reaction, he smiles and murmurs, "That's my wife."

Pru grins and says, just as quietly, "Yes, you're a lucky bastard." Relaxing in his seat, to pursue one of his favorite past-times—watching Ana—Christian smiles again when Pru adds, "She's lucky, too."

The alternative route off the estate proves effective at dodging the reporters, though slow-going, with mud and snow on the track. Ana wonders about the unfamiliar face guarding this secondary exit, until the uniformed stranger opens the gate and waves them through. After a stop at West Stow, for a fascinating and fun tour of the replica Anglo-Saxon village, they soon arrive at the enchanting market town of Bury St Edmunds. When Nigel parks near the Old Cannon Brewery, Ana asks Pru, "This is where you work?"

"You bet. I know you're not drinking, but you can actually watch the beer being made, so I thought you might like a tour?"

After glancing at Christian and Carla, to see that there are no objections, Ana says, "Sounds like fun. But can we eat, first?"

"Sure thing, babe. Oh, unless you're very hungry, ask for a light main; the food is really good and locally sourced, but the meals are humungous."

Beaming, Ana promises, "I'm starving."

Mirroring the smile, Pru says, "In that case, I suggest the Suffolk ham, chestnut and wild mushroom pasta, followed by steamed lemon pudding with custard. You won't need to eat until you get back to America."

Laughing, Ana says, "Sounds perfect, thank you."

As promised, the food—identified on the menu as "Cannon Fodder"—is delicious and satisfying. Ana watches, fascinated, as Pru interacts with her colleagues, who obviously respect her a great deal—including the owner, Mitch. She catches Nigel studying Pru a couple of times. He notices her gaze on one of these occasions and Ana is shocked when he blushes a little before resuming a more professional vigilance, making her wonder if perhaps he does have feelings for Pru.

She's certain of it when, as they're leaving after their tour of the brewery, her effusive cousin receives an affectionate kiss or embrace from each of the predominantly male staff, and the normally impassive (at least while on duty) security officer's mien becomes increasingly dark; practically livid with jealous resentment when Mitch farewells Pru with a hug, a kiss on the cheek and a few words in her ear that make her blush and lightly smack his arm in gentle rebuke. Nigel quickly brings himself under control and is once again businesslike as he leads them outside, though he avoids looking at Pru, further confirming Ana's theory.

There's no chance to privately discuss the matter with Pru, so Ana pushes it to the back of her mind as they all enjoy the highlights of the town, including enough shopping to please Carla, and concluding with a performance at the last working Regency playhouse in Britain; the Theatre Royal. Ana is amused on seeing that it's to be a rendition of The Taming of the Shrew and, remembering his improvised punishment of her playing Katherina throughout their first actual date, shares a meaningful smile with Christian as they head to their seats. Wondering how she's going to manage to sit next to everyone, she's grateful when he selflessly suggests that she sit between Pru and Carla. Momentarily resting a hand on his chest, she murmurs, "Thank you, my lord."

She recognizes the signs of arousal on his face and he kisses her cheek before promising, for her ears alone, "Tonight, you're mine."

Suddenly realizing that anyone seeing them interact will guess that they're lovers, Ana doesn't bother to whisper, "Forever yours."

It's a small cast, on a small stage, but Ana finds that she's thoroughly enjoying the performance. Despite having read the story many times, she's never seen a live rendition. In fact, she'd never seen any professional play before meeting Christian…never done a lot of things. As the familiar tale unfolds, she finds herself, not for the first time, feeling a feminine outrage at the oft-debated sexism, misogyny and downright cruelty featured in the plot. As the saga unfolds, she feels increasingly uncomfortable—even claustrophobic—seemingly unable to stop herself from making comparisons between the main characters and her marriage. Reluctant to appear ungrateful of Pru's efforts to make the day special, she reins in her thoughts and forces herself to focus on the acting, so that she's able to genuinely offer her appreciation as the curtain closes for intermission.

Still, she can feel an undercurrent of disquiet, that she can't quite identify, as the women make their way to the bathroom. She's both mortified and grateful when Pru clutches her arm and bypasses the line, loudly proclaiming, "Make a hole, people; pregnant woman, coming through."

Anyone objecting to this imposition isn't game to voice their disapproval. So Ana's soon in the lobby with Christian; who's braved the busy concession stand to buy her a bottle of water and a snack, apologizing, "Nothing healthy, I'm afraid." Again, she's forced to rein in her overactive imagination when she looks at her husband and instead sees Petruchio, in those deliberately ridiculous wedding clothes. This time she has to actually shake her head a little to restore focus. Of course, her super-attentive husband notices something is amiss and asks, "Okay, baby?"

It's not a lie when she says, "I'm a little tired."

"Want to head back?"

Pru and Carla are approaching, so Ana merely shakes her head and says, "I'm fine."

But she's not; the second half of the play only increases the trapped feeling, until she finally identifies the emotion building within: anger. Trying to think what Christian has done recently that might have caused it, she comes up blank; he's pretty much been perfect. Still, her unruly brain keeps comparing scenes on the stage to scenes from her life, until she's ready to scream. Instead, she whispers "Pregnant woman, coming through," to Pru, who smiles at the instruction as she makes room for Ana to pass by.

The only other person between Ana and freedom is Christian, but he proves too much of a barrier, standing and escorting her to the bathroom. Of course, Lea follows and insists on checking the empty cubicles; for what…squatting ninjas? Finally, and surprisingly, alone in the sanctuary of the ladies', Ana silently orders herself to snap out of this mood, even as she pees; staying longer than is necessary because of the lengthy, wordless pep talk. But simmering resentment still lingers while she washes and dries her hands. She's staring at her reflection—she really does look tired—muttering "Just get through this. You can do it," and other such useless instructions, when the door opens to reveal her husband; his expression guarded...it so often is. "Christian; you can't be in here!"

Waving away her concerns, he says, "Lea's running defense; she'll let us know if anyone's coming in. Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?"

"In case you've forgotten, I've got a baby resting against my bladder."

"That's not what I fucking mean, and you know it. Why are you so upset with me that you're hiding in a restroom?"

She's thus far managed to avoid lying to him, so closes her mouth on a dismissal of his concerns and takes a deep breath before explaining, "The play; it's getting to me. I keep comparing…remember we pretended to be those characters?"

"Of course I fucking remember. It was only months ago. And I'll never forget our first date…my first ever. I also recall that you enjoyed that evening, very much." Then offering his upturned palms, in the universal gesture of supplication, Christian gently asks, "Just tell me what I'm doing wrong, baby, because you must know by now that I'll fix it; whatever you need."

Of course, he's right; he has proven time and again that he truly is willing to do anything for her. If she asked him for all the planets on a string, he'd find a way to make it happen. Shaking her head in pained confusion, Ana covers her face as a few, frustrated tears force their way between her lids. "I don't know. I don't know."

She's in his arms, immediately calmed by his presence, so knows that he speaks the truth when Christian suggests, "Maybe you're not angry with me at all?"

Even so, it takes a few seconds before Ana works it out and lifts her head to look at him, her hands resting on his chest as she asks, "Mom?"

Concern evident in his gaze, Christian says, "Maybe. Grace went through something similar when she found out I'd been drinking."

"Oh, when you were drunk at fourteen?"

She knows it's something he's not proud of when that one-shouldered shrug betrays his guilt before he says, "Actually, I was often drunk from the age of ten, until Elena cured me of the habit."

"What? But…how? I mean, how could you get away with drinking at that age?"

"I was smart and had a generous allowance. Despite, at that time, maintaining excellent grades, I'd already 'fallen in with a bad crowd' as they say. So I persuaded one of the older boys, who had a decent fake ID, to buy me booze. I'd stash it in the woodshed, slip out of my room after everyone was asleep and stare at the water while I drank. It didn't stop the nightmares, but it gave me the courage to fall asleep. Anyway, after Mom caught me that time, she stepped up her attempts to find a shrink who could really help me, and discovered Flynn; he insisted on both my parents attending the first session." With a deep sigh and a hand through his hair, Christian continues, "Mom was already on the edge…probably almost out of her head with worry about me, but she…fuck, she was only supportive; never once making me think that the drinking was evil, or even bad, just something that needed to be fixed. She took it out on herself and Dad, instead; angrily asking what they should have done differently. Though they were always careful to argue in private, they couldn't keep it secret from me. So I knew…fuck, this is hard."

Sorry to have caused him more anxiety, when he hasn't done anything wrong, Ana runs her fingers through the hair at his temples and says, "We don't have to do this right now, baby. I'm feeling better. And I sort of get what you're trying to say. How about I hijack your session, tonight? We could both talk to him." This far from his therapist, and a long way from cured, Christian has been continuing his biweekly sessions with Flynn via video calls.

With a grateful smile, Christian says, "Good idea. You'd already been in here ages before I came looking for you, so we'd better get back."

Suddenly flooded with guilt, Ana can't quite meet his eyes when she says, "I'm so sorry, darling. I don't know why—"

Lifting her gaze with a firm hand on her chin, Christian interrupts, "Hey, I understand, okay? For now, just have fun. Oh, speaking of which, you spanked me."

Amazed at the sudden mood shift, as his gaze darkens with carnal hunger, Ana giggles and says, "Well, more sort of gently thwacked you with the back of my hand, really. But, yes. You're not angry about that?"

With a fierce grin, Christian tightens the embrace, his arousal evident through several layers of clothing, and declares, "Fucking furious."

Idly wondering what he sees in her face, in that moment, when his desire apparently increases, Ana grins and says, "Perhaps some furious fucking might help?"

Controlling his response with a deep, shuddering breath, Christian passionately kisses her—his lips, tongue and teeth exacting a temporary punishment/reward from her—then promises, "Later. Want me to sit next to Carla?"

Considering for a moment, Ana says, "No. I really am okay, for now. I think some part of my brain just realized that her alcoholism means I missed out on a lot; not just because she was often indisposed, but the economic cost of a secret drinking habit, too. But she would have done it differently, if she possibly could, right? And I want to check with Flynn before I broach the subject with her."

Christian kisses her again, tenderly this time, and says, "She's lucky to have you." When there's a knock at the door, he silently ushers Ana out as a woman enters, her face transforming with shock on seeing a man. Christian gestures to Ana's rounded belly, then mimes wiping his ass and says, "Poor thing can't quite reach anymore."

Ana nearly chokes in her effort to not laugh at the stranger's horrified, then sympathetic expression, and hurries through the door muttering an apology. In the lobby, she smacks Christian's arm and protests, "I can reach!"

With a very smug grin, Christian asks, "You'd rather she thought we were doing something else in there? She'd never believe we were just talking."

"Oh. Right. Then, thank you."

They're now in the auditorium, so he more softly says, "You're welcome, Mrs. Grey."

Of course, as Ana sits down, Carla whispers, "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

Thanks to Christian's intervention, she's able to honestly answer, "Yes, I'm fine."

The play finishes to appreciative applause. Ana finally manages a comparatively private moment alone with Pru and quietly reveals, "I think you're right: I think Nigel likes you. He looked ready to rip out your boss' throat when you said goodbye."

Her face expressing delight, then confusion, Pru says, "Mitch? But he's a doll, and happily married."

"He's also good-looking, and whispered something which embarrassed you as he hugged you."

Pru blushes, for the third time today, and reveals, "He was, uh, saying that you're hot."

Ana bursts out laughing, immediately quelling it when the sound is loud even in this crowded lobby, and says, "Oh. So, he's not interested in you?"

Pru laughs and says, "No, babe; just his wife and hot Americans, apparently. So, you really think Nigel likes me?"

"I do. Wanna brainstorm about it, tonight? We've only got a couple of days before I leave, and we need a strategy…something to get his attention and make him realize he can't live without you."

Her smiling face confirming that she's incredibly grateful, Pru quietly jokes, "Steady on, babe, we don't even know if he's a good shag, yet."

They're still giggling when Christian approaches to tell them it's time to go, then raising an eyebrow as he asks Ana, "Feeling better?"

"Much. I'm going to hang with Pru for a bit this evening."

"Do you remember we have that video call?"

She'd managed to forget all about suggesting a session with Flynn, but shrugs and says, "I can do both. Pru and I just have more of that secret women's business to discuss."

She knows that he won't like it; that he's fighting the urge to interrogate both of them. But he manages a smile and says, "All right."

Ana smiles at Pru, who takes the hint and moves over to where Carla and Lea wait nearby. Moving into his arms, Ana offers a kiss that is readily accepted, then says, "Are you aware that you say exactly those words when you're struggling to trust me, because you don't have all the information?"

Smiling a little, Christian comments, "I take it, from your reaction, that's a good thing?"

"It's a good thing that I've heard it enough to detect the pattern."

"I guess so. I'm not sure I had a phrase for this feeling before I met you, because you're the only person for whom I've ever conceded this much."

"That's what I'm trying to say. I understand what you do for me, and I'm grateful."

He's suddenly at least a decade younger when he asks, "How grateful?"

Leading him towards her family, Ana promises, "Later."

After a lot of walking, and a huge meal, most of the occupants of the luxury vehicle are dozing on the way back to Elspeth Hall. Christian is, of course, staring at Ana; diagonally in front of him. The seat is reclined a little, her eyes closed and her face tilted slightly to one side, thankfully towards him. Just watching her is enough to make his chest literally ache, as if mere flesh and bones are insufficient to contain the depths of his feelings for her.

With all his attention consumed by Ana, he hasn't seen the danger when Lea practically screams "One o'clock," even as Nigel throws the Range Rover into an evasive maneuver, jostling everyone within, as he yells, "Fuck!"

Another Range Rover, heading towards them at freeway speeds, is towing a medium-sized yacht. Christian watches in impotent horror as the currently horizontal mast, somehow unsecured, is swinging free and coming at them like a jousting pole, only much more deadly. It shatters the rear passenger window and an explosion of glass and sound is all he knows for a few seconds. Nigel somehow brings the car to a screeching halt on the side of the road without hitting anything, or even causing the airbags to deploy. Immediately, the interior of the car erupts with desperate cries, Christian releasing his seatbelt with trembling hands and diving forward, frantically calling Ana's name.

Visibly shaken, and covered in tiny, irregular beads of safety glass, Ana exclaims, "I'm okay. I'm fine. What happened? Did we hit something?"

Not satisfied with her reassurances, Christian anxiously checks her for injuries, even as Nigel does the same for Carla, while Lea brusquely says, "I'll secure the scene."

It's Ana who asks, "Why is Pru quiet?"

Where credit's due: infamouschelsea, for improving my English. If you've not already checked out this self-confessed "amateur" writer's contribution to FSoG fanfic, you won't be able to join me when I smugly claim, "I knew her before she sold her first book."

Cynthia74, for asking if Christian would confess to Ana that he had an ongoing drinking problem as a child.

Thank you, both. And to anyone who bothers to review; you not only keep me writing, but occasionally spark my imagination, too.