All works owned by E.L James... as we all know!

Read, and enjoy!

A/N: I am having issues with line breaks. So I had to use keyboard characters to signify POV change. The POV is in Christian's for all intensive purposes. p.s. Enjoy the blueberry line breaks!

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Saturday, June 4, 2011 Early dawn.

… Walk in silence,

Don't walk away,

in silence.

… See the danger,

Always danger,

Endless talking,

Life rebuilding,

Don't walk away.

"I don't want you to go," I murmur, unable to keep my voice from breaking. I look at Ana and see the steely determination in her eyes. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The room was now a void; a frozen wasteland where sound and light have left no trace.

… Walk in silence,

Don't turn away, in silence.

Your confusion,

My illusion,

"I can't stay. I know what I want and you can't give it to me, and I can't give you what you need." Ana states with false bravado. I step toward her, Ana recoils and raises her hands. "Don't, please. I can't do this." Anastasia grabs her suitcase and backpack and heads to the foyer. Pausing, she takes a long, hard look around my apartment; one that I hoped to share with her someday. She glances at the long, white couch where she signed the NDA. She gazes at the beautiful piano where only a short time ago, I played such beautiful, mournful music. She sees the life that she has to abandon.

I follow behind, keeping a careful distance. I reluctantly press the elevator button and the doors open. I have never wanted this elevator to be so slow before. Climbing in, Ana murmurs, "Goodbye, Christian." Her voice is despondent. Her glassy eyes are holding back unshed tears. The doors slide shut and the elevator descends, taking away my heart with it.

… Worn like a mask of self-hate,

Confronts and then dies.

Don't wa—

I numbly turn back; my feet concrete blocks as I reenter the apartment. I run both hands through my hair and pull. I feel my world crashing around me. There is a deep ache in my heart that I have never allowed myself to ever feel. My chest is constricting; my lungs are not getting the much-needed release from breathing. I grab the iPod from its dock and hurl it against the wall. The music that once played so softly, is now a mockery. I feel like a failure. I never fail and this loss is a demon sneering back at me. I smash the art-deco vase, sending glass and fragrant white and pink peonies flying. I fall to my knees and curl up into a foetal position; not caring that I am laying on tepid water and shards of broken glass.

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(Gail POV)

Awakened by the loud crash, Gail cautiously heads to the entrance of the great room. She is hesitant to approach Christian's pathetic form laying crumpled on the floor. After four years of working for him she is wary to test that staunch and professional relationship. She is empathetic, but is not sure how to help him—or if Christian would even want her help. Deciding that dithering was no longer an option, Gail silently walks to the sofa, grabs a throw blanket and with great gentleness, covers the now-sleeping Christian. Silent tears roll gently down her cheeks as she tip-toes back to her apartment.

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(Christian POV)

I wake, groggy and nauseous. My head feels heavy like a lead ball tethered by a cotton string. I notice that there is a blanket on me. I close my eyes and wince, realizing that there was a witness to my earlier outburst. I like control and I have lost it. Ana has a way of making my control... evaporate. I feel the sting of small cuts where glass has embedded my skin. This pain is manageable.

I stand and head to my bathroom to clean the cuts. I take a long, hot shower to soothe my aches from laying on that cold floor. Pain lashes through me and I sink to the shower floor. I cannot stop the sobs that escape. Hot tears mix with the running water, concealing all trace. I attempt to suss out how the night of Ana's return ended in such a bitter farewell. I go back to the start: images of Ana, returning from her trip, dressed in a skirt too short for Seattle's climate. I remember the instant she entered the room, I near ravaged her with kisses and she reciprocated just as fiercely. Taking her hot and hard against the bathroom wall before taking an exquisite shower. I remember the Thomas Tallis piece playing alongside the pleasure we received in the Red room. What happened to us? Then it hits me—my damn insistence of the Playroom Rules. I was foolish to dismiss the original outlined contract, but I still insisted on the rules. Damn, I even made her reread them. The chase. This is when I should have known better. I should have listened to Ana when she said 'she felt about punishment the way I felt about being touched'. I should not have let her see my pain. She wanted the bare truth of how intense punishment with my belt can be. I was foolish to entertain her request. She could not take the bite of the belt, causing her to think we were incompatible. She told me she loved me and I told her that it was... wrong. This is why she left.

Entering my bedroom, I grab sweats and a tee. On my pillow there is a small box with a note attached. I lean in and pull them up. Inside the box is a model kit for a Blahnik L23 glider. My glider. The note, written in her hand reads:

This reminded me of a happy time.

Thank You.

Ana

Sobs escape as I scoop up the kit and head to the breakfast bar.

I sat at the table assembling the kit for what seemed like hours. The air was crackling static; both Gail and Taylor would beat a hasty retreat when not needed. Gail—on her part—stayed long enough to prepare a simple pot pie and steamed greens. Taylor stayed in the control room, only waiting for any given request. Nothing was ever mentioned regarding this morning. Hell, I'm a Dom; nothing—if ever—surprises them. It sickens me, the fact that they have witnessed the comings and goings of various subs—that I garner no shame; but to have Gail witness my emotional outburst—that makes me feel inhuman and vulnerable. No one needs to see that. Especially from me.

My Blackberry vibrates. I peek at the text caller id and grimace. I so don't want to talk to anyone today.

Scrolling through the missed calls, emails and texts, I see that Elena has left several texts and a voice mail. I hit her speed dial number and call.

"Christian, so good of you to call me back. I was getting so lonely!" she purred into the phone.

"What is it, Elena, I'm kind of busy." I am trying my best not to sound brusque, but I am not in a mood to be toyed with.

"Lover, the gala is tonight and you are not here," she pouts. Once upon a time that was sexy, now it is just annoying and inappropriate.

Oh crap, that's right... the gala. I had intended to bring Ana along, but that is an impossibility now. "Sorry, other plans came up."

"Christian, my dearest, you're so cold today. Want me to skip this thing and come by to... cheer you up?" She is purring, but I can't tell if she is seriously flirting with me or if simply trying to get a rise out of me. "Wait, where is the lovely Anastasia?"

Anger grips me and I cannot hide it in my words. "That is not any of your concern," I spit through gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath, I try again, using another approach. "Things have changed, Elena, and I will not be showing up there tonight." My patience is at its limit. "Have a nice time tonight, and I will speak with you soon. Goodbye." I cut off before she can respond.

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(Elena POV)

Elena snaps the phone shut. She is smiling to herself. Well, well, it seems like there is trouble in paradise. It was well worth the wait for Christian to see that his 'Sweet Ana' is a gold-digging whore and is not worthy of such a fine specimen. I played my cards right, convincing Christian to follow Ana to Georgia. That probably chased her away. She smiles a smug grin and leans into the bar, "Bartender, another glass of Bollinger, please."

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(Christian POV)

I complete the glider. It was such a thoughtful and sentimental thing for Ana to do for me. This thought has that deep wound in my chest opening up deeper. I think back to my visit to Georgia, chasing the dawn with her. Like flying in Charlie Tango, Ana was the only woman I allowed in my glider. I set the glider on the dresser and insert Ana's folded note into my wallet. See, I can be sentimental too.

The day is over and I dread going to bed. I focused my mind on finishing the model to keep me busy but it was only a temporary solution. I fought hard to keep memories from filling my head. I only know too well what will happen when I go to sleep. I am averse to total sleep deprivation, but I struggle to keep awake. I change into my pyjama bottoms and head off to the piano.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

I wake early after a few hours sleep. There are normally things that I want to accomplish at the start of my day: logging into my work PC and respond to e-mails, review spreadsheets, etc. Now I can't think of a single thing that I need to do. I want to get up, but that rip in my chest is pulling at my throat. Inside is a burning feeling like you need to cry, but you swallow the feeling because you want to imprison it. I decide that I can't stay in bed either, as it leaves my mind open to think of Anastasia.

I drag myself from the bed, deciding that I am a pitiful sight. I give myself the 'talk'. I attempt to shake myself out of this mood and be the successful entrepreneur that I am. I head to my dresser and there it is—the little red box. All the strength that I had gathered to leave the bed instantly vaporizes. Clutching the box I sink to my knees. I close my eyes and slowly open the box. I know what is inside, but my heart and eyes disagree if it should be opened. I cautiously open my eyes and glance into the box—it

is painful like slowly pulling off a band-aid. Inside is a pair of Cartier diamond earrings, brilliantly cut within a simple inlay. Each has four stunning diamonds dropping in a line. This is a style that I know that Ana would approve of. The design is simple, but classic; not showy or ostentatious. These compliment her elegant and genuine nature.

After a hot shower and a light lunch of tuna sandwiches and minestrone soup, I instruct Taylor to get the car. "Miss Steel's, please." Taylor seems caught off-guard and slightly surprised. He nods his head and starts the car. We arrive at Ana's apartment awhile later. I instruct Taylor to stay at the far end of the parking lot, but still within view of her door. We sit for a few hours staring. Neither one of us are engaging in conversation; Taylor because he has his iPod earbuds in his ears, and myself because I was distracted by my phone and lost in my thoughts of Ana. I spend this time scrolling through my Blackberry to catch up on emails and voice mails. No word from Ana. I know that Taylor must be wondering why we are here, but he will never question my instructions. After several minutes more, I unwillingly relent, "Let's go home, Taylor, we are done here." I was unable to gather the courage to go to her door. There was also no movement near her window. Maybe she is out?

We step into the apartment. I toss my jacket on the breakfast bar and notice Ana's Mac book Pro, her car keys, and her Blackberry. Just things still here to remind me of her... Unable to control myself, I pick up her phone and see that a voice mail is waiting. I call the voice mail and it is a message from Jose:

… Ana, um, hi, it's me. I don't know if you are still with that Grey guy, but um, I still need to talk to you. You have not responded to my invite for my art show in Portland this Thursday. I guess I will hold two tickets for you. Maybe you and I can go have a nice dinner afterward. I want to make things up to you. I look forward to seeing you. Please call me back. I really miss you...

Ire courses throughout my body. How dare he try to take what is mine! I set the phone down carefully before I can break it. I reach a new level of anger that I have never been. I am past seeing red—I am well past seeing white. I unclench my fists, seeing the nail marks embedded in my palms. Vulgar thoughts of what Ana can be doing in my absence fill my thoughts. Is she fucking someone? Who is she with? We did not see her today... Does she even fucking miss me? I bet she is with a man, getting over me by laying beneath another! That fucking bitch! Without thinking, I grab my phone and punch a number in speed dial."This is Master Grey, send me Ingrid. One hour," I hiss. I shut off the phone and storm toward my office.

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(Ingrid POV)

Ingrid could not contain her happiness. She had heard rumours that Master Grey was not actively seeking subs, but she was elated that her services were demanded from him. It has been a long time since she had the pleasure of his company, and that visit had been way too brief and she had not been offered a second meeting. She read his dossier and knows what he likes. She knew his other subs. She knew that one left by her own volition because she met someone else, and the other three submissive 'relationships' he ended because they wanted 'more'. Ingrid thought hopefully to herself, maybe I can be his 'more'. She quickly braids her straight, chestnut brown hair, and sets off to see her Master.

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(Christian POV)

I pace my office, angry with myself for what I have just done, but for also what I think I am about to do. Maybe I am not good enough for Ana. I should let her go. She let me go. Then getting a sub is fair game. Taylor announces that Ingrid has arrived. There is a questioning look in his eyes, but it slips so quickly that I almost miss it. He will not dare to pass judgement on me. I exit the office and greet her. "Be ready in the playroom. Five minutes. Go. Now." Ingrid looks startled, but like a good little sub, she nods and heads to the playroom.

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Oooooh, cliffhanger! Stay tuned for the next chapter! I want to give credit for the song, 'Atmosphere' from Joy Division. If you've never listened to it before, I strongly recommend it! You Tube it! I feel that it was the perfect song to set the stage!