I wake from a restless sleep in the middle of the night and turn on my side, my eyes locating the alarm clock immediately. 2:53AM. The clock seems to be mocking me and I desperately want to throw it across the room to listen to it shatter into a million tiny pieces. I only resist only because I know the noise will wake Anastasia, if she's asleep at all. I've spent the last three hours lying her trying not to get up and creep into her room just to be near her. I can't stop thinking about our disaster of a conversation when we got home and put our son to bed.

Telling her about Lucy had been one of the most difficult things I've had to do in the last seven months. Of course I've thought about her more often than I should, wondering about the what ifs. What if I hadn't met Ana when Lucy came breezing into my life? Would we have ended up together? What if I hadn't ended things? Would she be living here with me now? How would my family respond? I can only imagine the hostility towards the both of us.

Things between Ana and I were declining for years before I met Lucy. It's not only my fault; she practically gave up on us, too. We still had the odd good day here and there—our anniversary vacation was nothing short of amazing—and there were times when I really believed we were working towards improving our marriage. But almost the moment we returned home, the tension returned, I went off to my study, Ana went to tend to our son, and everything went back to the way they had been. I never stopped loving my wife and the devastation I suffered when she left was unfounded. I want her back more than anything. I want to be able to prove to her that I can be the husband she wants and deserves. I don't want to sit here in Seattle wondering whether some other man is trying to take my place as both a lover for my wife and father to my son. When it comes down to it, the only one I want is Anastasia. In hindsight, I know Lucy was little more than a distraction for my marriage troubles.

I still have no idea how Ana came across that security video. She said she found it on my computer, but I know goddamn well I wasn't sitting behind my desk watching it myself. At one point, I asked Welch look into how it had gotten there. He said it had been an attachment in an email, but the email address was untraceable. I have my suspicions on who sent it, but I haven't been able to confirm those suspicions.

My silent musings are interrupted by what sounds like a muffled sob. Immediately I'm out of bed and in the hallway before I can even register whether I'm hearing my son or my wife. I quickly realize I'm hearing Ana and my heart breaks a little more knowing I'm the one causing her pain. For a few minutes, I linger outside the guest room wondering what I should do—my first inclination is to burst into the room to comfort her, but I have no idea how she might react to that. It would kill me if she pushed me away, though it's the least of what I deserve. But I can't just leave her like this. I am the epitome of selfishness as I quietly open the guest room door and slip inside.

Through the dark, I can see my wife curled into a ball on one side of the bed and I can hear her crying into her pillow. I cross the room in a few long strides and slide into the bed beside her, immediately reaching out to pull her into my arms. She tenses as she realizes I'm in bed with her and she tries pushing me away.

"No," she sobs, putting her hands against my chest for leverage.

"Shh," I murmur into her hair, increasing the grip I have around her. Eventually she gives up, resting her head against my chest as she continues to cry. I have no idea how long we lie there, but slowly her sobs and sniffles fade, and her breathing slows. Just as I think she's about to fall asleep, and start debating whether I should risk jostling her to return to my own bed or just stay here, I hear her take in a shaky breath.

"I can't do this anymore, Christian," she says weakly. "I'm so sick of hurting." She lifts her head up to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed and tears streaking down her cheeks. "I've spent the last two and a half years crying myself to sleep, because I knew I was losing you. I didn't know to what degree and I never seriously believed you would cheat on me. Of course it crossed my mind a few times, especially after that mess with Elena—"

"Ana—" I try to cut her off before she can say anymore; Elena is not a subject that will get us back on the right track to reconciliation.

But she shakes her head at me. "Christian, you can tell me all you want that there was nothing between you and Elena, but you're lying to both of us. I believed you when you said you never slept with her, but you will never convince me you weren't seeing her at all. I saw the two of you together." It's my turn to stiffen as my heart skips a beat. What does she mean she saw us together? When? Where? "Teddy and I were going to surprise you for lunch one afternoon. He was still only a few months old and Sawyer had to pull over so I could take him into a bathroom to clean him from an exploding diaper." Exploding diapers. I remember those. Teddy was a master at it. "He stopped us outside this little bistro and I got out with Teddy and the diaper bag. I got inside and there you were sitting in a corner with Elena. I don't remember how long I stood there. I debated on whether I should take Teddy into the bathroom, change him, then walk over and drop the diaper in the middle of your table, but in the end I just left. You came home that night acting as normal as ever. Every time I started to confront you about Elena, I just couldn't find the words. You didn't care about having lunch with the woman who abused you as a child, so why should I? We were fighting enough as it was; there wasn't much point adding more fuel to the fire..."

All I can do is hold her and stare at the ceiling, searching for anything to say in response to this revelation. I had no idea Ana's suspicions about my rekindling my friendship with Elena was actually based on something aside from paranoia. During one of our many fights, she brought Elena into it. I immediately went on the defensive, thinking there was no possible way she could have known about the lunch meetings I'd been having. Nothing ever evolved from it—the thought of Elena's touch still repulses me after all these years. I just needed someone to talk to, an outsider's opinion on things. At first, Elena just listened. After a while, she subtlety began telling me she'd known all along Ana and I would never last, that Ana couldn't possibly be what I needed her to be. There were days when I left those lunches almost believing she was right. One thing I can say about Ana is that despite our fighting, she was always there when I needed to let loose sexually. The sex never suffered; actually, it only got better. There was angry sex, makeup sex, wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-I'm-sorry sex. We still had the amazing kinky fuckery that brought us together in the first place. It's surprising that of all the things I miss about Anastasia, the sex is low on the list. I mean, of course I miss it. I miss watching her face contort in ecstasy knowing I'm the one making her come. The way she cried out my name over and over. She was never not ready for me. We were a perfect match that way: where I was constantly hard, she was constantly wet.

I miss holding her as we sleep and waking up beside her every morning. I miss her sitting with me while we eat. I miss the way she can distract me from my work when I'm stressing far too much. I miss her smile. I miss her laugh. I miss her smart mouth. Fuck, I just miss her.

"I could give you a million excuses for why I've done what I've done," I say hoarsely. "But I know they won't even come close to making you feel better. I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world for reducing you to this. Ana, you should be living the fucking dream right now. You should be here with me and our son and we should be on cloud fucking nine. I can't take back what I did to you. All I can do is promise you it will never happen again and beg you once more to consider taking me back."

She sighs so heavily her entire body heaves. "Christian, I can't," she whispers weakly. "Don't think I don't want to. Don't think I don't want to go back in time and erase the last two and a half years of our life. But I can't. Not right now at least. I need the chance to live my life and find out what else is out there for me. Baby, I need to find out if it's even possible to live a life without you in it. And until I find the answer to that, I can't be with you."

I'm fighting not to cry. This has to be a nightmare. She can't really be saying these things to me. The pain in my chest proves it's happening and only reminds me I've ruined everything I've worked for, everything I've ever wanted. I want her happy again. If that means letting her go back to London, back to that fucker she met, it's what I have to do. "Just tell me this," I whisper. "Do you think there's a chance you could be happy with somebody else?" I hold my breath waiting for her answer.

"I don't know," she responds. "I just don't know. Could you be happy with somebody else? Clearly you were for a few months..."

"It wasn't real, Ana," I tell her. "It was a fucking illusion, all of it. I could get away from everything for a few hours. I could pretend I was happy. I could pretend I was in love with her and that we could have a life together. But I came home to you and Teddy, and I realized the two of you were my reality. Every time I left her I wanted to end things with Lucy and work on us, but you were drifting farther away from me and I was drifting farther away from you, and we just didn't know each other anymore. I know that's no excuse. I know I should have sat down with you and talked through this. But I was afraid of losing you." I roll my eyes at the irony. "I've lost you anyway."

"Has there been anyone else since you and I have been together?" she asks quietly.

"No," I tell her honestly. "Lucy was the first and the last. You are the only person I ever want to be with for the rest of my life. And I am so sorry it's taken this for me to realize that."

"So am I," she whispers.

At some point, the both of us fall asleep and for the first time in far too long, I actually get a full night's sleep. And when I wake up in the morning, I'm going to have to hold onto that memory of having my wife in my arms, because I don't know when or if I'll have that again.

The rest of the weekend practically flies by. The morning after my conversation with Christian I woke up feeling confused and disoriented. I'd been having the most wonderful dream that Christian was holding me. Just holding me. For that moment I was able to pretend he was mine again and it was bliss. It took me a while to remember that I had actually fallen asleep in my husband's arms. He was gone in the morning and I spent my entire shower crying again.

My schedule for the remaining time in Seattle was busy. I had lunch with Mom and Ray—Bob hadn't been able to get time off work. I had dinner with Kate, during which I told her everything, we had several drinks, and plotted our revenge on Christian's mistress. I let out seven months' worth of anger and hurt and frustrations during that dinner, and when I went back to the house, I didn't even let Christian's disapproval over my blatant drunkenness break my mood. He didn't say anything about it aloud—he finally seems to have realized he's lost his right to disapprove of anything I do.

I'm heading up to my room for a shower before bed as Christian calls my name. I turn around a little too suddenly and he's immediately in front of me to keep me steady in my dizzy state. "Are you okay?" he asks concernedly, his hands on my shoulder.

I nod. "Fine," I say tightly, pulling out of his grasp. I watch as his arms drop lamely to his sides. "Thank you for watching Teddy while Kate and I went out."

"You don't have to thank me, Anastasia," he says warily, running his hands through his hair. "I'm his father, it's my job."

I carefully bite my tongue. Apparently the liquor I took in at dinner has the ability to let things slip through my mind's filter and the last thing I want is to start a fight with him right now. "Was there something you wanted?" I'm trying desperately not to slur my words, but I know my attempts are futile.

Christian sighs and backs away a little. "I just wanted to tell you I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Before you and Teddy."

I blink at him in surprise. "What? Why?" I ask, surprised at my surprise. Apparently surprise is my drunken word of the day.

"I've got some meetings to tend to before I go to Germany," he explains apologetically. "I tried to move things around so I could spend some more time with you, but since I've basically taken the last month off, I couldn't get out of them."

"It's fine," I tell him. "We have an early flight anyway."

Christian nods. "Listen, Ana, I realize we haven't really fixed anything yet, but I don't want to wait another seven months to see you. After my meeting in Germany, do you think it would be all right if I came to see you and Teddy in London?" The look on his face is so hopeful that I can't possibly say no to him. At least not to this request.

"I think that will be fine," I tell him.

For the first time in I don't remember how long, he graces me with a real Christian Grey genuine smile. "Thank you," he says in relief.

I return his smile. "Is Teddy in bed yet?" I ask, continuing up the stairs again.

"No," Christian replies, following my footsteps. "He's playing right now. I was going to get him in the bath soon, then read him a bedtime story..."

"Would you mind holding story time for when I get out of the shower?" I ask.

Christian is smiling again. "Of course not," he says softly. "You know where to find us."

As I gather my clothes for my shower, I feel eyes on me and I leave my room to find Christian standing in the threshold of Teddy's bedroom, watching me with a slightly glazed expression. He blinks himself back to the present, shooting me his shy smile as I make my way towards the bathroom. I have to admit it makes me feel pretty fucking good to know even after all this I still appear to have some effect on Christian.

I take my shower, feeling myself sobering up enough that I can face my son without embarrassing myself, then dress in my pajamas and a sweatshirt before going to find my husband and son. They're both already in Teddy's bed. Christian is talking quietly and at first, I think he's started story time without me, but as I get a little nearer to the door, I realize what's going on and I feel my heart sinking.

"But I don't want to go, Daddy," Teddy says shakily, and I know he's crying.

Christian sighs. "I know, baby boy," he replies. "I don't want you to either, but you have to for now."

"Why, though?" Teddy's voice is muffled and I know he's got his little face pressed against his father's chest.

"Because your mommy needs you," Christian explains gently. "She needs you to take care of her and protect her and love her. She needs you to be strong right now. Do you understand?"

Teddy doesn't respond audibly, but he's probably nodding, even though he probably has no idea why he's nodding. All he knows is that when Daddy asks a question, he has to answer. It's heartbreaking. "Why can't we live here with you?"

I'm holding my breath now, my eyes wide as I wonder how Christian is going to answer this one. I almost want to put him out of his misery and go in there and pretend for a few minutes that everything is just dandy while we tuck our son into bed. I don't, of course; I'm curious about his answer and feeling a little vindictive.

"Well," Christian says heavily, "that's hard to explain, Teddy. Daddy did something very bad, something that upset Mommy enough that she can't live with me."

"What did you do?" Teddy asks almost accusingly.

I can practically hear the cogs turning in Christian's mind as they scrape around for a suitable answer.

"I hurt your mommy's heart," Christian eventually says, his voice cracking. "I made her very sad and upset and angry with me."

"Did you say sorry?" Oh the innocence of children. Everything is in black and white; if you do something to hurt someone or make them sad, you say you're sorry and all is forgiven.

A soft huff of laughter tells me Christian is thinking the same thing. "Yes, I said I'm sorry. But I still have to work very hard to make Mommy forgive me. It's going to take a lot of time, and in that time, you and Mommy are going to live in London. I promise, though, Teddy, that if there is any way I can get Mommy to forgive me, I will do it, because I love you both very, very much and I want you to come home to me."

I feel the tears trailing down my face as I fight to hold back a sob. This is probably the first time since I've been back in Seattle that I've heard Christian sound as though he really understands what he's done, not just to me, but to his son as well. He's finally realizing his actions have consequences and those consequences affect everyone. I wait until I've got my emotions under control and wipe away my tears, knowing there's no way I can hide my red eyes, and head into my son's bedroom. Teddy is over at his bookshelf selecting a book for story time, while Christian watches him with such devastation that I can't decide if I want to hold him, shake him, or run from him.

He looks up when I step into the room, and immediately his expression changes to something wearier, and I know he knows I heard his conversation with Teddy. "How was your shower?" he asks hoarsely.

"It was good," I respond, smiling for Teddy's benefit. Teddy has selected his book and puts it on the bed before rushing over to hug me around the knees.

"Love you, Mommy," he says quietly, looking up at me with his big blue eyes.

I feel the tears again, but manage to fight them back as I reach down to take my son in my arms for a hug. "I love you, too, baby boy," I whisper into his copper curls. I glance at Christian and find his face full of longing as he watches our embrace. After a couple moments, I carry Teddy over to the bed and sit him down between Christian and myself. "Ready for your story?"

Teddy nods eagerly, handing the book over to Christian. It's a known fact in the Grey household that Christian is the better storyteller of the two of us. Apparently the voices he uses for the characters are more accurate and believable to our son's ears. Personally, I think it's just because Teddy is a Daddy's Boy and nobody else could ever match up.

Christian is smirking as he settles back against the pillows. I pull Teddy into my arms, letting him snuggle into my chest while we listen to Christian reading. I have no idea what book he's narrating; I'm concentrating on the gentle, comforting rumble of his voice and before I know it, I'm being gently shaken awake.

My eyes blink open to find Christian standing over me, smiling slightly. Glancing over, Teddy is curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I get out of bed and follow Christian out of the room.

"Too sleepy for a nightcap?" he asks at the top of the stairs. "I've still got a bit of work to do before my trip tomorrow, so if you're tired..."

I shake my head, needing to make the most of the time Christian and I have together. "No, I'm okay," I say quickly.

He looks at me as though he's looking through to my very soul. Or what's left of it after he stomped on it along with my heart. I follow him down through the house and into the kitchen where he gestures for me to take a seat at the bar and busies himself with pouring us some wine and digging out some cheese and crackers. His intentions are clear: he knows I've been drinking and he's not going to let me get away with drinking more on an empty stomach. I'm slightly tempted to refuse the food on principle, but it actually looks appetizing and I don't feel like spending my last evening in Seattle hugging the toilet.

"Did you have a good time with Kate?" he ventures cautiously.

I nod as I chew and swallow. "I did," I confirm. "Incidentally, I would avoid her for a while if I were you. She worked out what happened between us and she's on the hunt for blood."

"Of course she did," he grumbles wryly. "Grace knows, too. She dropped by while you were out today and told me in no uncertain terms how disappointed she is in me and how if I ever do manage to get you back it'll be nothing short of a miracle. Surprisingly, I agree with her."

I'm not entirely sure how to respond to this so I don't. I'm curious as to how Grace worked out the details—I know Kate wouldn't be blabbing it around, not even to the family—but I realize it doesn't really matter when it comes down to it.

"She also told me she owes you one hell of an apology for thinking you abandoned me and took our son to a different country," he continues. "Don't be surprised if you get a call from her before you leave tomorrow."

I nod again, though this time I'm not eating. I've known all along the Greys believed I packed up and left because Christian and I were having so many arguments. It's actually a relief that Grace knows the truth; at least now she doesn't think I'm the one who destroyed our marriage...

My evening with Kate reminded me of several more questions I had for Christian that I want answered before I leave. "Can I ask you something?" I begin softly, tracing a finger along the rim of my wine glass. I look up and find Christian's gaze locked on my finger, his eyes dark. There is no doubt in my mind what is going through his, and I have to admit, it's tempting until the image of me lying naked beneath Christian's amazingly fit body changes to me standing beside the bed, watching Christian lying atop Lucy. Suddenly, my appetite is gone and I feel nauseas.

"Of course," Christian responds huskily, swallowing visibly. A moment later, his face is reverted to the expressionless mask he wears when he's angry or nervous. I know in this instance it's the latter.

"Why did you wait two months to break things off with Lucy?"

Christian blinks at me several times in surprise. Clearly this is not what he expected me to ask. "Um, I don't know," he replies, his brow furrowing in thought. "I think it just took that long for me to realize what I'd done and that you weren't coming back. I couldn't face her knowing how much you were hurting."

"She never tried to contact you?" I ask steadily.

He shrugs. "She did. She called, texted, emailed... Even tried to drop by GEH a few times. Security managed to head her off every time to avoid making a scene. At one point she actually tried to blackmail me into seeing her by telling me she would go to the press about the affair. I called her bluff, told her to do it. Honestly, Ana, at that point I think I might have welcomed that. I just didn't fucking care about anything anymore. It's taken me far too long to realize that without you, none of the rest of it matters—not my reputation, not my business..."

"What changed?" I ask softly.

"I don't know," he says again, this time thoughtfully as though he's trying to figure it out for himself. "I woke up one morning and realized life has to go on. I felt empty and I knew I'd never be the same again, but I had to do whatever I could to get my life back on track. Especially if I ever hoped to get you back. So I went back to work, settled things there and with my family, then went to tell Lucy I was done. Like I told you before, she was less than pleased, but eventually the pleading calls, texts, and emails all stopped, and I haven't heard a peep from her in months."

I can't help but feel slightly uneasy about Lucy just giving up on Christian. I can't imagine anyone giving up on him. Hell, I can't even give up on him. Lucy had a five month affair with him and if I'm right about the nature of the relationship, she was the only person aside from me who's seen the other side of Christian Grey, the loving, sweet, funny, shy side. The moment I saw that side of him, I became his completely and I know if Christian had given some other woman before me what he had given me, I never would have had a chance of being his—that woman would have known exactly what she had and would have fought tooth and nail to keep him.

For the first time since all this began, I start to see Lucy as real competition. She wanted—or possibly still wants—what I had with Christian. And from what I've learned so far about the affair, Christian was almost willing to give it to her. He told me flat out he'd briefly considered leaving me for her. The affair was bad enough, but the thought that if I hadn't found out about it, Christian might have come home one evening, handed me divorce papers, and left me to be with her is absolutely devastating.

God, I hate feeling like this.

"Ana?"

I look up suddenly for the floor, wondering when I started crying, and hastily wipe my eyes to find Christian standing just in front of me looking torn. "Yes?" I ask weakly.

He opens his mouth, poised to speak, but can't quite find his words. Eventually he shakes his head and shuts his mouth, and we spend several minutes just staring at each other. I know what I want to happen: I want him to take me in his arms, kiss me like his life depends on it, then carry me to our bed and make love to me until we both forget our troubles. I know Christian wants the same thing, but he won't make the first move, I realize suddenly. He's afraid. He's abiding by my wishes for a change. He doesn't want to be rejected anymore. Despite knowing how much we both want the same thing, I make no move to do anything about it. It's too soon, for both of us, and there is no doubt in my mind that if we did end up falling into bed together, I would wake up in the morning feeling worse than ever.

"You should get some sleep," Christian whispers, tentatively reaching out a hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. When he finishes, his knuckles graze my cheek before he withdraws his touch completely, leaving me feeling sad and miserable again. "You've got an early flight and you're going to want to sleep off some of that alcohol."

For once, I agree wholeheartedly with him. I nod, finishing off my wine before sliding off the stool. Christian backs away enough to give me some room, though still close enough to grab me in case my legs don't feel steady enough to keep me upright. Another few awkward moments pass by as I struggle to find something to say. "Well, have a good flight," I finally manage. "And a good trip. Thank you for this weekend and for keeping Teddy this month. I know it's meant the world to him."

"It's been my pleasure," he replies softly, sincerely. "I'll contact you when I know when I'll be finished in Berlin and we can work out the details about the visit."

I nod dumbly. "Sounds good," I reply.

Shutting of the house lights, Christian walks me up to my room, but we both hesitate before I go inside. I am aching to have his arms around me, but I don't know if I can control myself enough to just leave it at that, nor do I know whether he'll let me go before things go too far.

Fuck it...

I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing myself against him. After a few shocked seconds, I feel his arms close around me, securing me in the one place I once felt safest. Everything rushes back to me—the solid feel of chest, the comforting scent of body wash and Christian, the steady beat of his heart. I feel him rest his cheek on top of my head and a wave of calm washes over me as I commit every sensation to memory, not knowing when I'll have this again, or if I ever will.

Eventually, both of us reluctantly pull away. I can see the aching and the pain in his eyes as he leans forward to rest his lips against my forehead.

"I love you, Anastasia," he breathes against my skin. "And I will prove it to you."

I think I nod, but he whispers a goodnight, then turns and makes his way down the hall to the guest bedroom where he disappears through the door. With a heavy sigh, I enter my own room, fall into bed, and somehow manage to fall asleep within minutes.