Fifty Shades Reunion

Chapter 1 - Nerves

The plane was probably traveling 500 miles an hour but for him, it felt like it was crawling through the air, almost at a standstill. He couldn't get home fast enough.

It was finally here: The moment he'd been waiting for, praying for, day and night, for six weeks. He was going to see his Ana that night.

Christian had made sure to leave from his business trip to Russia early to ensure plenty of time to make it to her concert in case there was any flight delay. There usually wasn't — he wouldn't abide by sloppy lateness from his crew — but the weather was one thing he couldn't control. Or time for that matter.

The trip, like the plane ride, seemed to drag on as if in slow motion. During endless meetings, all he heard was burly, obnoxious Russian oligarchs drone on and on about Putin, kickbacks and the arrogance of American businessmen. He either shut them down or tuned them out altogether. All he thought about was that last conversation with Ana, replaying it over and over again in his head.

Last Friday when she had finally called him, he hadn't budged an inch from that exercise mat for an hour straight, his back stiffening but his body feeling more alive than ever. Christian had eagerly listened to every tidbit she deigned to share with him, every detail about how nervous she was to be performing on stage. Hearing the insecurity in her voice just broke him and made him double down on his mission to rebuild her confidence — a confidence that, he was loathe to admit, he had helped to shatter. But he shoved that guilt aside for the moment and focused on the task at hand.

"Ana, you're going to be phenomenal. I know it. I've had the privilege of hearing your beautiful voice. It will astound everyone else as well. I know it."

He could practically hear her blush. Ana was speechless, unsure of how to respond to his sincere flattery. So she pressed on, revealing how she'd spent most of her time practicing and working on three new numbers. She was exposing herself to this man again, but she wanted to share this important part of her life, her heart, with him again. Enough analyzing, she thought — it was time to act on instinct.

"Um, so what have you been up to lately," she said hesitantly, trying in vain to make it sound like they were simply two old friends reconnecting. Part of her didn't want to know — she tried to shove the image of other women out of her mind — but she was eager to shift the attention back on him and, if she was honest with herself, insanely curious about what he'd been doing for the last six weeks.

Christian didn't think "I've been going through absolute purgatory and upending everything I know about life in order to win you back" was quite the answer she was looking for, so he went with something a bit lighter.

"Mostly working at the office and working out with Bastille. A lot." It was the truth. But then he couldn't help himself. "And seeing Dr. Flynn."

There was an awkward silence, and it was Christian who filled the void first. He promised her total honesty and that's what he would give her from now on. "Not every day but almost."

Another pregnant pause. "I haven't forgotten what you told me about getting myself straightened out Ana. I take everything you say to heart," he confessed.

It was a lot to blurt out, but Christian needed her to know how seriously he took her words from that God-awful day when she'd left him. He was determined to be a better man for her, the unfucked-up version that she deserved.

More silence. He was sweating profusely, and not from his workout. Was it too much too soon?

"I've been seeing my therapist too Christian," she said quietly.

He was perversely elated. Surely that was a sign she was trying to work out her shit to be with him too, right? At the very least it kept preoccupied her so she didn't have time to date other men, he rationalized.

She wasn't ready to delve any further, though. "I have to go Christian — I've got a few other things I have to take care of tonight," she said suddenly. Shit, is there another man in her life? It is Friday night after all. Fuck!

"Oh," he stuttered out, desperate not to hang up. "Anything exciting or are you staying in?" It was a lamely transparent attempt to uncover her plans but he couldn't stop himself.

"No just work actually. I really want to be ready for the concert next week. I've been dreaming about this moment for years — I figure sacrificing a few Friday nights is a small price to pay," she said, with a slight giggle at the end.

He exhaled the breath he'd been holding for far too long and he almost choked on the supposedly nonexistent heart that had lodged in his throat. Her giggle — it was like sound had just re-entered his world after a six-week hiatus.

"It's nice to hear you laugh Anastasia," he sighed. "In fact, it's been wonderful just hearing your voice again. I, I can't tell you how much I missed it." Crap, more silence, but he didn't care. Christian wasn't going to lose this precious opportunity.

"It was nice speaking with you again too Christian." Hmmm, nice — he detested that word. As if she picked up on his wayward thoughts, she added, "More than nice." He grinned from ear to ear.

But just as quickly, she wanted to end the conversation. "I should go."

Skittish, Christian thought. Come on Grey, take it slow and stop scaring her off.

"OK. Thank you for calling Anastasia. I'm truly looking forward to next week."

"Me too. Goodnight Christian."

"Goodnight Ana. Sleep well."

He bit his tongue to hold off on calling her baby and instead sat on the mat for another hour just grinning like a loon. The grin matched the one Ana wore for the rest of the night as well.

He smiled again sitting on the plane remembering their talk. They had texted throughout the week — conversational, lighthearted texts. She didn't seem eager to speak on the phone again, which disappointed him, but at least he was able to ramp up the amount of texts to a dozen a day. It was something, he reasoned. Slow and steady, he kept reminding himself.

His mind began to drift as he debated what to wear tonight. Christian had pictured suit after suit, flitting through all of his grey suits and mentally discarding one after the other in a vain attempt to impress her.

"For fuck's sake, what am I teenage girl?" he thought to himself. Fuck it, he'd be whatever Ana wanted him to be if it meant getting her back in his life again.

Meanwhile, Ana had tried on every dress in her closet, physically exhausting herself. She knew it wasn't the concert-goers she was trying to impress. There was only person in the audience she cared about.

"Oh screw it," she thought. "This is about the damn show. Focus, focus, focus."

So she opted for a simple,clean white dress with frilly lace shoulders. Demure yet pretty. Good enough.She picked up her guitar and belted out her songs for the umpteenth time.