A/N: Happy New Year!

The drive back to the house is tense and silent, and no matter how much we've tried to avoid it in the past, I know our mood has rubbed off on our son, as he doesn't say more than a few words the entire time. Taylor pulls the SUV up to the front of the house and I look up at my home, a feeling of dread setting in. The last time I was here, I was still sweeping the pieces of my broken heart off the floor and believed my marriage was over. Now I'm here to find out whether it's salvageable and I have less than no idea what to expect.

Christian takes Teddy from the car, our son fast asleep against his shoulder. Before I can grab my suitcase, Taylor has already pulled it from the back, ignoring my insistences that I can take it inside myself. Once inside, I briefly regret my decision to return here rather than staying with Christian's parents; he seems to pick up on this as he tells me he's taking Teddy upstairs to his bedroom then awkwardly tells me to make myself at home.

I roll my eyes a little as he disappears up the stairs and slowly make my way through the house. It hasn't changed a bit since the day Teddy and I left, and I realize rather suddenly how much I've missed being here. Despite the problems Christian and I were going through before the affair, I can recollect almost effortlessly all the good times we had here together. When we first moved in, Christian insisted on "christening" almost every available surface and over the years there hasn't been a spot where he haven't either made love or fucked, or both. Before Teddy's birth we spent a lot of time curled up on the floor in front of the family room fireplace talking about our future family and Christian seemed eager to have more children.

Those were the good days and I want so much to go back to that. Even knowing what I now know, I would do most of it all over again and the only changes I would make are the obvious ones—keep us from fighting so much, keep Christian from deciding I wasn't giving him what he wanted so that he had to go out and find somebody else. But the feelings of betrayal are too much for me to handle and while I don't know what's going to happen between Christian and me before Teddy and I return to London, I think I've already decided there won't be any immediate forgiveness or passionate please-take-me-back lovemaking.

A throat clears itself and I spin around to find Christian standing at the kitchen entrance much the way he had been in Bellevue, only this time he's holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Did Teddy go down all right?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

He nods. "Yes. He's pretty exhausted after this weekend..." He hesitates. "Shall we get on with this, then?"

Normally I would be annoyed at the question, thinking he was considering this below him and wanted to get past it before he did something else he deemed more important. Now, however, I know the formality is only his way of showing me how nervous he is about the conversation we both know is coming. I nod my response and follow him back through the house to the family room. Clearly he's been planning this; I take in the blazing fire before taking a seat on the floor in front of it. Christian has moved the coffee table to rest against the couch and he sits on the floor across from me with enough distance between us that I don't feel uncomfortable. As he pours each of us a glass of wine, I wonder whether this was a carefully thought out action on his part; knowing him and his need for control, everything he's done today has been planned out to the last minute detail.

Each of us cupping our wine glass, I'm looking at the fireplace, and Christian's looking at me. "Where should we start?" he asks quietly.

I finally drag my eyes from the flames to meet his dark gray ones that are fill with such sadness that my first reaction is to crawl over to him and pull him into my arms and make him forget his troubles. It only takes a second to remember why we're sitting like this in the first place and that's enough to harden my heart enough to get us through this conversation. "Honestly, Christian," I say quietly, "I have no idea."

His lips twitch up slightly in the beginnings of a smile that doesn't quite appear. "Well, I guess I can start my telling you that I miss you," he whispers. "And that the last six months have been absolute hell for me."

"They haven't exactly been easy for me either, Christian," I reply.

"I know," Christian says. "And I know this is my fault. Ana, you can never know how much I regret what happened. And I know that even if I live another thousand years, I will never be able to make this up to you."

This is enough to get my thoughts in order. "When you say you regret what happened, are you referring to the actual affair or the fact that you got caught?" Christian opens his mouth immediately to respond, but I shake my head to stop him. "Keep in mind we need to be completely honest with each other right now, Christian. No matter how badly you think it might hurt me, I don't think I can possibly hurt anymore than I already am. So I want the truth."

Christian's eyes clench shut for a few seconds as though he's absorbing my pain—I could only be so lucky... When he opens them again, I don't think I've ever seen such raw emotion in his eyes. To his credit, he remained silent for a few minutes, actually thinking about my question, though the fact that it's taking him this long to answer doesn't exactly fill me with warm fuzzies...

"Both," he bites out reluctantly.

I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out whether I really heard what I think I heard. "Both?" I repeat dumbly.

Christian sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Yes, Ana, both. I'm beyond sorry that I had the affair at all, but if you'd never found out about it, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

It's taking every ounce of self-restraint I have in my body not to throw my wine glass, liquid and all, in his face, get up, grab my son, and leave. I remind myself that I came to Seattle knowing this conversation was going to be tough and that he was going to say some very stupid things, but this... "And if I hadn't found out, would it still be going on?" I hear myself ask.

"I honestly don't know," he tells me, shaking his head slowly. "Possibly..."

Well, you wanted honesty, my subconscious tells me, looking as shocked at Christian's words as I am. "Have you seen her since I left?" I ask, feeling numb.

"Once," he croaks. I remain silent, waiting for him to go on. Apparently he hadn't intended to explain any further, because he sighs in resignation before continuing. "It was a couple months after you and Teddy left. I only went to tell her it was over and I wouldn't be seeing her again after that night. She was upset. I think she thought that since you left, I'd be able to be with her openly and when I told her that wouldn't be happening, she got a little angry. It took Taylor and Sawyer to hold her back so I could get out of there..." He pauses for a moment thoughtfully. "Actually for the first time since they've been in my employ, they both hesitated. Though hesitated might not be the right word—more like stood back and watched as she screamed and hit me and scratched me... I think they enjoyed it."

I smirk a little into my wine, making a mental note to give both Sawyer and Taylor a hug next time I see them. "I want to know everything, Christian," I tell him. "I want to know how you met, what you did, when you did it, and why you did it."

Christian looks at me warily. "Don't do this, Ana," he begged. "Can't we just put it behind us?"

"No," I say bluntly. "Christian, you did more than have an affair. Everything leading up to the affair played a part in why I left and I need to know. Besides, you lost your right to keep things from me."

Still looking as though he'd prefer to break every bone in his body one by one rather than tell me what I need to hear, Christian eventually nods. "What do you want to know first?" he asked quietly.

"Her name," I say promptly. I have my own names for her, but it would be nice to know how other people refer to her...

"Lucy," Christian tells me dryly.

"And how did you meet Lucy?" I ask, the name putting a bad taste in my mouth.

Christian sighs and takes a sip of his wine. "I told you we met at the gym. She's one of Claude's other clients."

"Yes, you told me that," I replied quietly, "but I also know your sessions with Claude are usually private, so how did you come to meet one of his other clients?"

For a moment, he looks annoyed at the line of questioning, but the glare I give him reminds him why we're having this conversation in the first place and he neutralizes his expression. "She was receiving private sessions as well, and hers tended to precede mine. At first, I didn't think anything of her—we never spoke or anything. One evening after a particularly frustrating day—work was stressing me out, you and I were fighting about something—I called Claude and asked him for an emergency session. He agreed, but told me he'd already scheduled somebody for the time slot that I wanted. I tried to convince him to reschedule the other session, but he wouldn't budge, so I agreed to share the session with this other person." He swallows hard and takes another drink from his wine glass. "When I got to the gym, Claude wasn't there yet, but Lucy was. While we waited, we got to talking. Not about anything particularly important; just general polite chitchat."

I vaguely wonder when Christian started having general polite chitchat with anybody, but let the thought drift away.

"It was half an hour before Claude showed up. We did our session and I came home."

Now that he's talking openly, I'm reluctant to hesitate, knowing that if he stays quiet for too long his sharing mood will switch in the blink of an eye. "When did you first sleep with her?" I ask, running through the vast list of questions I need answered.

Christian drains his wine glass and quickly refilling it, offering to refill mine as well. I decline. "It was during that business trip to Los Angeles," he eventually responds. I scan my memory to remember what he's referring to and it comes to me rather quickly. He had scheduled the trip rather last minute, informed me about it through an email as we were fighting once again, and essentially left without saying goodbye to me or Teddy. I was positively livid when I realized what he'd done. "On the third night, I was in the hotel bar, having a drink before bed, and Lucy wanders in. Apparently she was in town on business as well. She joined me at the bar and we spent a couple hours just talking. At the end of the night, I invited her up to my room."

I don't know whether to cry or scream, or both as I imagine my husband leading this woman through the hotel, up the elevator, and into his room where they probably did any number of things they shouldn't have been doing. "Why?" I ask, unable to form any other words. "And please, don't give me the I lost control bullshit again."

With a sigh, Christian looks at me and I know he's been spending the last six months trying to work out the answer to this question on his own. "I don't know. When we talked, the conversation just flowed. She was entertaining to talk with and we seemed to have quite a bit in common. I didn't mean for it to happen, Ana. I could sit here and blame the alcohol I'd been drinking that night or the fact that you and I were at odds constantly, or how increasingly lonely I was becoming, but none of it comes close to justifying what I put you through. Before I took her to my room, I thought I'd just made a friend and that was comforting in and of itself. As time went on, it started to feel like it was with you and me in the beginning. I was completely beguiled by her. We started seeing each other more and more often. She would meet me wherever I was going on business. Obviously we couldn't go out in public together without risking being caught by paparazzi."

"Were you in love with her?" I ask, my eyes already burning from the tears I refuse to shed right now.

"I thought so," Christian responds hoarsely. "At the time, I was so wrapped up in what I was doing and keeping it secret from you that I convinced myself I was in love with her, and she me. For her, it might have been true. I spent so much time wondering what I should do, whether I should leave you to be with her, whether I should end things with her to be with you... Both options terrified and saddened me, because if I ended things with her, it would mean going right back to us fighting constantly, and I am never more miserable than when you and I are fighting. But at the same time, I didn't want to lose you and what we had. Despite my actions to the contrary, I never stopped loving you or wanting to be with you. I never wanted to hurt you, Ana."

I look away from him, tears streaming down my face. "And yet..." I say, shaking my head.

"I know," he says, trying to blink away his own tears. "I fucked up. Badly. I deserved you leaving me and more. But I want a chance to make this up to you if I can. I want you back, Ana. I want my family back. And I will do whatever it takes to bring you home. Please tell me what I can do."

"Christian, I don't know that there is anything you can do," I say hollowly. "This is about so much more than the affair. The last few years have been terrible. You've demolished my self-confidence, you took away any semblance of independence that I may have had, and you made me feel like I was here solely for your sexual pleasure, and outside the bedroom, you had no interest in my or our marriage."

He looks at me horrified. "That's really how I made you feel?" he asks weakly. I nod jerkily. "Oh god, Ana, I didn't even realize... Why didn't you say anything?"

"I tried!" I cry indignantly. "Anytime I brought it up, we fought, you stormed out, and I was left here to take care of Teddy on my own." A thought passes through my mind. "All those times you left after one of our fights, did you go to her?" I don't need an audible response to know the answer to my question. The look in his eyes is more than enough. "Nothing ever changes. If you and I fight, you run to someone else. If it's not her, it's Elena."

Finally a reaction aside from lost little boy as I watch Christian's eyes flash in anger and annoyance. "Not this again," he grumbles.

"Yes, Christian, this again. Tell me, when was the last time you saw Elena?"

"Ana, I fucking told you I haven't seen her since before Teddy was born!" he shouts.

I don't flinch like I once might have done, but I shake my head, letting the subject drop for the moment. That fight was monumental and led to me leaving him for nearly a week. The only reason we got back together was because I'd gone into labor and Christian showed up at the hospital to be with me. Once Teddy was born and the doctors deemed it safe for the two of us to go home, Christian wasted no time in loading us into the car, refusing to listen to my protests. He did his groveling bit and eventually I decided our son was most important. Eventually, the subject of Elena fell to the wayside, though I've never forgotten about it. But that's a story for another time...

"All I'm saying, Christian, is that instead of running to the one person you need to be running to when things go wrong, you head in the opposite direction," I say calmly. "And after this, how am I supposed to trust anything you say or do from here on out?"

"If you come home where you belong, I can regain your trust. Baby, I will do whatever it takes. If you want to continue living apart from me until you sort this out, fine. I'll leave here or I can get you an apartment if you prefer, but how do you expect us to work on any of this when you're in London?" He's begging again, reverting to the little lost boy he knows breaks my heart.

Not this time, Grey. "Christian, for the first time in my post-college life, I'm on my own, doing things for myself. I have a great apartment, I'm living in London, and I love my job. I don't want to give that up yet. Not until I've been able to work through my feelings about you."

He looks so miserable. "Do you at least miss me?" he whispers. "Do you even still love me?"

I close my eyes for several minutes to avoid looking at his face, knowing that if I do, I'll just give in to every desire I've had over the last seven months. "Yes," I finally reply. "To both questions. But that doesn't change a thing, Christian."

When I open my eyes, I find him holding his head in his hands. "I know it doesn't."

With a sigh, I go into the one subject I hadn't wanted to discuss. "In the interest of complete honesty," I say hesitantly. Christian snaps his gaze up to meet mine. "Christian, I've met somebody."

All I can do is watch the color drain from his face as my words sink into his mind. "What?" he breathes.

I nod. "As of right this moment, it's nothing more than friendship, but I can see it turning into something more if I decide I want it. I'm not saying I'm going to act on anything right now—actually, I think it's best if I just focus on myself and Teddy for the time being—but I don't want you to be surprised if to learn somewhere down the line that I've started dating."

Devastation turns to anger in the blink of an eye. "Dating?" he growls, giving me the full Christian Grey glare. "Who the fuck is he?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not telling you his name, Christian," I say dully.

"Why the fuck not!" he roars.

Rather than being intimidated or frightened, I stare at him steadily. "First of all, lower your voice," I hiss at him. "Teddy is asleep. Second of all, I'm not telling you because I know how you operate: the moment I turn my back after giving you his name, you'll be on the phone with Taylor and Welch and who the fuck knows who else to get more information. Then if you're really in a mood, you'll send someone to 'warn' him about keeping his hands off 'your property.' Am I wrong?"

The anger dissipates slowly and I swear the bastard is smirking at me. "Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey," he mutters to himself. "Ana, look, I know I fucked up but that doesn't mean you need to go to another country and fuck the first bastard that smiles sweetly at you."

"That's rich, coming from the man who fucked a whore he met at a gym," I shoot back, uncertain where the hostile words are coming from. They hit the mark though; Christian flinches as though I've struck him. "I haven't fucked anybody but you, Christian. Ever. I don't want that to change, but I'm also not going to come back here and let things go right back to the way they were before I left. In fact..." I stand suddenly and Christian's eyes widen. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He nods dumbly, watching my every move as I head back to the front door where Taylor left my luggage. I locate my backpack and retrieve the folder before carrying it back to Christian, knowing this will not end well. "Here." I shove the folder in front of him and wait for him to take it before sitting down again.

"What is this?" he asks with trepidation, looking between it and me uncertainly.

"Just read it," I reply, refilling my wine finally.

He follows my request with a heavy sigh, leaving me to concentrate on my wine. I can't look at him right now, not knowing exactly what he's reading and what's going on in his mind. It killed me when I made the decision to have these papers drawn up, but I needed Christian to know this situation can't be fixed by one conversation and makeup sex.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks in a carefully measured tone, finally looking away from the paperwork to meet my gaze. "Ana, what the fuck?"

"It's a legal separation agreement," I hear myself say. "I'd like you to sign it."

"No," Christian replies firmly. "Abso-fucking-lutely not."

I sigh. I knew this was going to happen... "Christian, I'm not filing anything right away," I tell him wearily. "I just want the paperwork if and when I decide to make something official."

"I'm not fucking signing this shit, Anastasia," he tells me firmly, tossing the folder on the floor between us. "I'll sit here in Seattle and let you indulge in your little independence games in London for a little while longer, but you will be coming home to me and we will be working on this."

"What did you just say?" I say in a deathly quiet voice. I cannot have possibly heard him correctly. "My little independence games? Fuck you, Christian! You did this to us! You decided it was worth risking our marriage and our family just so you could go off and get your jollies with that bitch. And let me tell you something else, the days where you get to tell me where I'm going to go and what I'm going to do when I get there are long gone. I came here hoping to get answers from you and to see my family. I am going back to London and I am taking our son with me. There are a million things we need to work on before I will even consider coming back to you. I want you to keep seeing Teddy as often as you can. You can come visit us in London or I can fly him out here during school holidays—I can stay with Kate and Elliot. Maybe with time we can work through this, but honestly, Christian, I don't see that happening any time soon."

He gasps a sob and I know all his anger has been a mask for his pain. "Ana, please," he begs, forcing himself onto his knees to shuffle closer than me. I try not to flinch when he's close enough to cradle my face in his hands. "Baby, please don't give up on me. I can't lose you again."

I lean into his touch for a moment, relishing in the feel of his skin. "Then you shouldn't have cheated on me, Christian," I whisper, letting my lips kiss the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He sucks in a sharp breath in response. "Look, I had a late night last night and I'm exhausted. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow."

He falls back onto his heels looking so dejected and miserable. "Okay," he whispers.

A few minutes later, the lights are off in the house, the doors are locked, and the wine glasses are in the kitchen sink. When I go for the separation agreement papers, they're not where Christian tossed them which makes me think he might have taken them. I'm far too tired to start another argument, but I have this horrible feeling they might be running through the shredder some time soon. But I'll deal with it later.

Christian is carrying my duffel bag and backpack up the stairs, looking at me uncertainly. "I don't know if you want to sleep in our bedroom," he begins quietly. "I haven't slept there since the night you left... If you don't want to, the second guest room is made up."

I don't think I can stomach sleeping in our bed, especially not without him. And there is no way I'm letting him sleep beside me. Not right now at least. "I'll take the guest room," I manage to reply, unable to meet his eyes.

I see him nod out of the corner of my eye and I follow him into the room across from Teddy's. Christian drops my bags at the foot of the bed then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well," he says in a falsely casual tone, "I'll let you get settled. Sleep well, Ana."

"You, too, Christian," I whisper back, trying not to cry.

He gives me a tight smile that tells me he won't be sleeping at all tonight. Neither will I. After another awkward few moments, he turns and leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him and leaving me feeling more alone than I have in the last seven months collectively.