By the time we board the GEH jet at 9:30PM, I am beyond relieved. I've spent the entire afternoon with my eyes darting towards Ana every few minutes, terrified that the adrenaline rush she experienced at the police station would fade and she would come to her senses about putting as much distance between us as she can. She hasn't run yet and I'll do everything to keep that from happening. For the first time in far too long, I felt as though she and I were a unit again as we left the station. That feeling only strengthened in the car when we talked.

I keep coming back to the last thing she said to me: that her biggest fear is that loving me will leave her broken and alone the way it did Leila and Lucy. I did that. I turned a wonderful, smart, innocent girl into a shell of herself. I've never been more ashamed of myself or my actions. If I had any sense, I'd get her back to Seattle, make sure she was settled, and leave her to live her life. Unfortunately for all of us, when it comes to Anastasia, all my sense goes out the window. I'll do anything she wants me to do at this point. If she asks me to leave, I'll do it. If she tells me she wants a divorce, I'll give it to her as well as everything I have to ensure her happiness. It would absolutely kill me to end our marriage, but I'll do it if that's what she wants.

Of course, I'm getting way ahead of myself at the moment. We've just gotten Teddy settled in the bedroom at the back of the jet and take our own seats across from one another as we prepare for takeoff. I want to say something to her, anything, really, but I'm not sure there's anything either of us can add to everything we've shared today. Looking at her expression, she feels the same.

"When we land," I say quietly, drawing her attention, "it'll still be early enough in Seattle that we can have dinner with my parents if you want. Or we can just go back to the house, deal with everyone later."

She sighs as she thinks over the possibilities. "Do they know we're coming home?"

I shake my head. "No. I didn't want to draw any more attention than there already is. I have no doubt in my mind that once the press gets wind that you've returned, they'll be all over us; no reason to lay them any bait."

That, and after the conversations I've had with my family over the last week or so, I've started avoiding them. To say they're disgusted with me and my actions is an understatement. I can't handle facing them right now, but if Ana wants to see them...

"I think I just want to go home," she says in a small voice, curled up in her chair like a little girl. My heart wrenches and I want to tear off my seatbelt and pull her into my arms.

I settle for nodding. "That's fine," I tell her. She nods back and settles more into her seat, closing her eyes. The moment I'm certain she's asleep, I unbuckle myself and stand, reaching overhead for a pillow and blanket. I gently lift her head without waking her, then tuck the blanket around her, remembering the very first time I saw her sleep. Despite having passed out from drinking, I couldn't help but think how incredibly sweet and beautiful she looked. She had been the most angelic thing I had ever seen in my life. When she sleeps, all her worries and concerns go away leaving the most peaceful expression on her face. I will give anything to see that face every morning for the rest of my life. I lean over her, pressing my lips to her forehead, taking the moment to inhale her sweet scent before pulling away and whispering in her ear, "I love you, Anastasia. That will never change."

I hear her sigh softly in her sleep and her face relaxes even further. Leaving her to rest, I head towards the front of the jet where Taylor is sitting. He nods at me as I sit across from him. "So are you going to tell me what the hell was going on in that room with Ana?" I ask quietly, noticing his wince as he adjusts how he's sitting.

He snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes. "Let's just say all the training I had in the military did nothing to prepare me for a pissed off woman who actually knows how to disarm a man," he mutters. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking for more information. "She was doing fine up until Miss Hastings started talking about the two of you being..." his eyes scan the area looking for a suitable word, "intimate. She caught me off guard and I'm almost certain she was going for my sidearm. Of course I didn't have it; the police wouldn't allow it, but if I had..."

The thought of Ana getting hold of Taylor's gun and busting into the room where Lucy and I were is a horrifying one that will give me reason to insist my security team stop carrying weapons altogether.

"Speaking of injuries, sir, how's your hand?"

I glance down at my bandaged hand, the one I used to punch the wall when Lucy started in on Ana. "Nothing broken," I say, still unable to flex my fingers. "I'll recover."

Taylor nods and we fall into silence. Every so often I glance behind me to check that Ana is still asleep. When I turn away from her, I find my head of security watching me with an unfamiliar expression on his face. I raise an eyebrow in question. He hesitates only a moment. "The first time I met Ana," he begins quietly, "I wanted to pull her aside and tell her to run as far from you as possible."

Normally I might be annoyed by this line of discussion, but I find myself smiling wryly. "I tried that," I inform him. "It didn't work."

"I was terrified that this sweet girl was going to become another number for you," Taylor goes on. "Of course, it wasn't my place to say it, and it probably isn't now, but I hope you'll let me continue."

My brow furrows. It isn't often Taylor tries to make personal conversation, but if this is going where I think it is, I could use all the help I can get. "Go on," I urge.

Surprise passes through his eyes very briefly before he's looking over my shoulder to where my wife is sleeping. "I didn't think she was going to last. She might have looked your type, but she sure as hell never acted it and I admit I enjoyed watching her turn your perfectly controlled world upside down."

I smile at the memories of those early days with Ana. She frustrated me like no other woman as ever done, made me think and feel things I never thought I would.

"Then I started seeing the change in you," Taylor says, turning his gaze back onto me. "In all the time I've known you, you never pursued a woman; you never needed to. Watching you pull all the stops just to see her was... Well, it made me realize you really are human. You both made some mistakes early on. Maybe you moved into things a little too quickly. But Ana grew on me almost immediately and I enjoyed seeing both of you so happy."

"Where's this going?" I ask quietly.

Taylor's jaw tenses, unmistakable anger in his eyes. "That first night with the Hastings girl," he says, keeping his voice low. "I wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and beat the shit out of you for even considering throwing away your marriage. Obviously I'm not privy to every single interaction between you and your wife, nor would I want to be, but regardless of whatever problems you had, that was the best thing you had going. It wasn't my place to say anything to you or to Ana—though god knows I wanted to—so I kept silent, hoping you'd come to your senses. When it kept happening, I had to remind myself over and over that I'm not your fucking friend, and it's not in my fucking job description to lecture you about being an asshole. You can fire me for this if you want, but the day you went home and you found your family had left you, I was relieved. To me, it showed she hadn't been completely broken and maybe she could recover from this." He reaches for his water bottle to take a sip and it occurs to me this is the most I've heard him talk at once during the entire time I've known him. "Yeah, it pissed you off and it hurt, but if I was her, I'd have done a hell of a lot worse than just leaving.

"After everything, though, she's still willing to give you a chance. I don't know why she would even want to or whether it'll even work out, but you're getting what has to be your fifth second chance since you've known her. All I can do is stand on the sidelines and hope when this is over and the dust clears, she can still figure out who she is without you. You've got a great thing sitting in that seat back there, Grey, and you'd better do everything possible to get her back, or you really will be the most miserable son of a bitch on the face of this fucking planet."

I'm not sure if that's a threat or statement of fact; either way, I nod my agreement. "Anything else?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Just one," Taylor sits forward in his chair so his elbows are resting on his knees. "If my daughter were in the same situation as Ana right now, I wouldn't hesitate to beat the living shit out of the sorry bastard who hurt her. I've met Ray Steele; I know he feels the same. I'm not saying I think of Ana as my daughter, but I can promise you, if you hurt her again, I'm going to make a call to Ray and whoever else, and you will regret it."

Definitely a threat this time. I would certainly never take this sort of conversation from the vast majority of the people in my life and normally I'd be sending Taylor to the unemployment line, but all things considered, I understand where he's coming from on this. Over the years, he's witnessed any number of things that would send others running and he's always remained loyal to me. I've known all along he had a soft spot for Ana, and I know over the last year I've asked more of him than I ever have. Looking back, it might have been too much to ask of him—after all, he is a married man and I don't believe he would ever be the type to cheat on Gail or even keep things from her that he wasn't bound to keep secret due to his NDA. He spent much of my five-month affair with Lucy lying to Ana for me. Just the fact that he hasn't walked away from me for good proves he's more than worth his weight in gold.

"Understood, Jason," I say quietly. "And if I haven't said before, thank you. When we get back to Seattle, I'd like for you and Gail to take a few nights off. Take her wherever the two of you would like to go, and of course it's on me."

For the first time since I met him, Jason Taylor actually looks surprised at something I've said or done. It's a brief moment before he composes himself again, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Mr. Grey," he mutters, looking anywhere but at me. "That's very generous of you."

I subdue my laugh and leave him to his reading before going back to check on my sleeping son, then my wife. As I settle back in my chair, watching how peaceful she is right now, I feel my own eyelids getting heavy and within moments, I'm asleep as well.

After one of the best sleeps I've had in a year, I feel myself being shaken awake. My first instinct is to swat away the hand pressing against my shoulder, but the moment I do, I hear a deep, soft chuckle and remember where I am. Opening my eyes reluctantly, I'm more than pleased to see the gorgeous face of my husband smiling back at me from where he's kneeling in front of my seat.

"Where're we?" I mumble, stretching my arms overhead and arching my back to loosen my muscles a bit. When I meet his gaze again, the sweet, amused expression in his eyes has darkened, which is apparently the signal to set my body, tingling.

Christian clears his throat and pushes himself to his feet. "Seattle," he says, his voice a little stiffer than before. "We just landed."

My brow furrows in surprise. I know the GEH jet is top of the line, but surely it needed to refuel at some point during a flight that long...

"When we landed in D.C. to refuel," Christian answers my unasked question, "you were still sound asleep and I know you weren't sleeping well, so I didn't have the heart to wake you."

My eyes widen at his thoughtfulness, though I'm not sure why I'm surprised; Christian can be sweet and caring when he wants to be. "Thank you," I say, smiling shyly for some reason.

He returns to the shyness. "You're welcome. Are you ready to go home now?"

I don't respond out loud, instead pushing myself from my seat and trying not to acknowledge the sudden nerves that have made themselves apparent on my husband's face. Obviously he still thinks I'm going to change my mind. He doesn't have to worry about that. I need the comfort of my own home, or at least the home in which I spent years being happy. The house on the sound is the only real home Teddy has ever known. He knows every inch of that place—the best places to hide when we play hide and seek; the little shortcuts to use when we're chasing each other through the house—and I can see him bouncing beside Christian in his eagerness to get back there.

It's still early afternoon in Seattle, which I know will throw off my body's internal clock, but it's overcast and gray and threatening rain. I smile at the welcome sight. Christian, Teddy, and I pile into the back of yet another black SUV. We wait only a minute or two for our luggage to be removed from the jet then Taylor takes the driver's seat while Sawyer sits beside him.

I'm going home.

The second we walk in the door, we're greeted by what smells like cookies from the kitchen and when the door shuts, Gail comes out to say hello, pulling me into a hug and welcoming me home. Her expression tells me that while she might not know the entire story of what happened in London, Taylor's brought her up to speed enough that she's looking at me sympathetically. We're told dinner will be served early, since we're probably still on London time and exhausted. I smile gratefully as everyone but Christian leaves the hallway.

"I hate to do this so soon after you come home," he begins reluctantly, "but I have some business to take care of in my study. I've got to start moving everything back here from London, but I will be having dinner with you."

My brow furrows at his words. "So you were really going to move everything there because Teddy and I were there?" I ask quietly. I know he had every intention of working from London, but I assumed that would be the extent of it.

"Yes," he tells me as though it should have been obvious. "Ros was scheduled to move out next week; I'm sure she'll be relieved not to have to do that now. We were going to setup offices in downtown London."

I'm staring at him in awe. It's one thing for a man to uproot himself from his entire life and business, but another thing entirely to move that business with what was probably not even a second thought. I'm not naïve enough to believe I was the motivating factor in his decision—the safety of his son was probably at the forefront of his mind—but it means a lot to me that he would go to such great lengths to be with us.

Christian shuffles uneasily on his feet and I realize I haven't responded to his words yet. "I don't know if you thought about where you want to sleep—our bedroom is made up, but..."

I tear my eyes from him, trying not to see the hope on his face. "I think I would prefer one of the guest rooms for the time being," I hear myself saying.

He lets out a shuddering breath, nodding heavily. "Of course," he agrees. "I'll take your things up on my way to the study."

Without another word, he turns from me, grabbing my suitcases and pulling them along with him. I find myself wandering through the house, not really looking for anything in particular, just trying to reacquaint myself. The brief period I was here only a few weeks ago didn't allow me to settle in as much as I had wanted; I was more concerned about how Christian and I were interacting to really give myself the chance to relax.

I'm feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden as I think of the reasons that brought me back here. Elena Lincoln—the woman continually goes to unthinkable lengths to destroy my marriage. I still don't understand her motivation to buy into Canton Publishing. What did she think would happen? That I might suck it up and put myself through the hell of having her as a boss? Not fucking likely. This wasn't the first time I've seen Christian stand up to her in my presence—the memorable events of his birthday several years ago after he announced our engagement will forever live in infamy in my mind—and he said much the same thing this time as he had then: that he was done with her. Only a handful of months went by before I found out he saw her again, the night I told him I was pregnant with our son. Part of me wants to trust that he's done with her for good this time, that she's finally done something that might make him realize how very toxic she is to him, but past experience tells me not to get my hopes up too much until I see something tangible.

Her words to Christian come flying back at me, twisting the knife even deeper into me: "I'm only sorry things didn't work out with you and Lucy; she was perfect for you." Granted I now realize the reason Lucy seemed so perfect for Christian is down to Elena coaching her on how to look and act. Her words were meant to hurt me—well, they sure as hell hit their target—but having finally seen Lucy in person, I can almost see why Christian seemed to fall so hard for her. She was me. At least when it came to physical appearances. It wouldn't surprise me to find out her personality is very close to mine as well.

On one level, the self-loathing part of my mind that reminds me over and over I've never believed myself good enough for Christian, is relieved he chose somebody so like me—the me I had been in the beginning of our relationship. I hadn't been the only person wanting to find that time again. If he'd chosen someone who was the opposite of me in every way, wouldn't that just show he didn't want me at all anymore?

The rest of me is utterly disgusted by these thoughts that seem to justify my husband having an affair. We both fucked up. The fact that neither of us could come to the other and actually communicate our problems was the cause of our marriage breakdown. Lately communication has improved slightly, though I have to admit the most communication is being done after some sort of drama passes.

That is the first thing that needs to change, followed closely by my regaining my trust for him, if that's even possible after this.

I'm standing in the middle of the backyard without any real memory of being here. I remember clearly the first time Christian brought me to this house, shortly after he proposed and was hoping to convince me to say yes. He wanted to knock the house down and build from scratch; I convinced him to just make a few updates to the existing house. But what I really fell in love with was this view. I can step out onto the back deck and look out at the Puget Sound. One of the first things I did when we moved into this house was make my way out into the meadow where I just laid in the grass for what could have been hours. Christian joined me eventually and we remained there until it was too dark while we talked about our future, taking turns to place our hands on my very pregnant belly to feel Teddy kick. Everything seemed so bright back then. We should have had nothing but happiness in front of us. I don't want to think that was an illusion, but reality kicked in too quickly, reminding me that nothing and nobody was perfect. I thought I'd known this; I'd been wrong.

I jump and yelp as a pair of arms encircle my waist, but relax when I hear Christian's chuckle. "Sorry," he says, his mouth against my temple. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"And yet..." I try to sound annoyed, but we both know I'm not.

"Well, I did try yelling for you, but you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear me."

"Oh," I respond. "Sorry."

He squeezes my middle a little. "No worries. I just came to tell you dinner's ready."

I nod, though neither of us actually makes any real move to head towards the house. We've both relaxed more than we've done in months and we're not eager to break whatever this moment is.

"I'm glad you're home," Christian whispers into my ear. "I'm sorry it happened like this, but what matters is you're here. This is our new beginning, Anastasia, and I'll do whatever I can to make it count."

I sigh. "I'm glad to be home as well," I reply cautiously, still looking out at the water. "I want to believe your words, but..."

"I know," he says when I trail off. "Actions speak louder. I'm working on that."

Nodding, I relax into his hold and we stay there until I begin to shiver. He leads me back to the house with his arm protectively around my shoulders. Gail kept dinner warm for us and gives us a bright smile when she sees us walking in together. Christian tells her to take the rest of the night off and pack for her vacation with Taylor. Dinner is wonderful. The food is amazing as always when Gail cooks, Christian and I are both relaxed, and our moods are making our son happier by the second. Despite how I felt about leaving London, I think this was the right decision, if not for me, then for Teddy.

After dinner, much to my surprise, Christian pours me a glass of wine and sends me into the family room with our son to watch television while he does the dishes. I give him a skeptical glance when he tells me what he's going to do, but he rolls his eyes and shoos me away. I keep expecting to hear breaking dishes, but he manages to finish his chore in under an hour and joins me on the couch with his own wine. We're watching some cartoon that Teddy is hypnotized by, though Christian and I spend more time stealing glances at one another than actually paying attention. For the first time in far too long, I actually feel like we're a family again and I don't want the evening to end. I don't know how long this will last if I don't draw it out as long as possible.

It does end, though; Teddy is fast asleep on the floor. Christian picks him up expertly and gently takes him upstairs while I gather our wine glasses to take them to the kitchen. I chuckle when I find the dishes Christian was supposed to wash stacked neatly in the sink. Still dirty. I'll deal with them in the morning. After rinsing out the wine glasses, I place them on the stack and turn around, jumping in surprise again to find Christian leaning against the fridge, watching me with glazed eyes.

"Been there long?" I ask, smiling.

He smiles slowly before pushing himself off the fridge again. "Long enough," he answers evasively. "Teddy is still fast asleep. How are you feeling? Tired?"

I nod. "Exhausted, actually." My tone is surprisingly apologetic. I realize it's because I want to keep spending time with this Christian, the fun, carefree Christian that I fell in love with so long ago.

His smile turns understanding. "Sleep, then," he says gently. "I've still got some work to do and I'll probably be gone before you wake in the morning, but I'll be home at a reasonable hour."

I try to remember the last time he gave me such a detailed summary of his plans, though most wives wouldn't consider that detailed, and I'm coming up with nothing. Perhaps this is part of his new beginning for us and I hope he keeps it up for the foreseeable.

Christian walks me to the guest bedroom and I feel a sense of déjà vu from the last time I was here, though this time I'm feeling much more comfortable being under his gaze. He brushes my hair back on his face, his fingers grazing my skin, making me shiver. Hesitantly, not taking his eyes off mine, he bends down enough to place his lips over mine briefly. My eyes flutter closed at the touch, but before I can even touch him, he's pulling away from me. I want to protest and judging by the look on his face, so does he; we don't, though.

"Good night, Anastasia," he whispers hoarsely.

I smile in response as he turns away to head down the hallway to his study. Sighing with frustration I didn't know I was feeling I enter the bedroom and change into my pajamas before falling into bed. As I fall asleep, I wonder how long it'll be before Christian tries pushing things farther between us. We've always been a sexually charged couple, at least before the last year or so, and for us to spend so much time together without being all over each other is unusual. I certainly won't push things too far too soon; I fear if we give into our desires so soon, I'll only be able to picture the video I saw of him and Lucy together, forever ruining that aspect of our lives.

At this point, I think I'll just follow Christian's lead. Knowing him, he's got everything planned and outlined as far as our reconciliation goes. I'm willing to go along with it for now, because I want to see how he plans on fixing things between us.

This is his last chance. There will be no warnings this time around. If he fucks up again, I'm done for good and there will be no going back. I really hope he understands this otherwise we're not going to get anywhere.