I DO NOT OWN the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy! All rights belong to the incredible E.L. James.

A/N: Few warnings before we begin; firstly, I am not E.L. James, nor do I strive to be. She is incredible and i have no desire to be her. Second, this story is NOT bet'd so please forgive any errors I have overlooked. Third, there are some changes made in timelines here and there but please just go with it. I have changed them for a reason and charecters with slight personality changes are also, yes hard to handle, but worth it, I believe.

I have recently, like most of the world, become quite in love with with the Fifty Shades Trilogy and the charecters so when I saw there was an opening on for the trilogy for writing fan fics, I lept on the oppritunity. I hope you all enjoy my own, twisted version of the wonderful story.

Thanks!


Chapter 1.
Christian Grey

I fidgeted in my seat, unable to sit still any longer. The room was empty besides the older looking guy reading some gun magazine besides my mother so I didn't have to get up and sit outside the office like I usually had to when it was filled with kids. It was ridiculous, my mother bringing me to see Dr. Canter after I was expelled from school today.

I scoffed at the thought and rolled my eyes but tried to cover it up with a couple of coughs when I saw my mother's pointed glare shot my way.

I could sense and see the physical doing her exasperation with me had caused over the past couple of years. Dad couldn't be here today, something with work, so Mom had to leave a couple hours early from the hospital to come and pick me up. That didn't make her any happier to see me when she picked my sorry ass up from Principle Turner's office.

"I'm so sorry," Mom had pleaded the overweight, balding man that was my principle. "Christian is still working though some…issues right now but we're working with a new therapist and -"

"Dr. Trevelyan," Principle Turner raised his hand to stop her. "You and you're husband are generous, kind hearted people. Elliot and Mia are excellent students here. Christian, though a handful, is also a very gifted and intelligent student here but when a child, no matter how troubled, becomes violent with other students-"

"He started it!" I banged my fists down on the arm of my chair.

I could feel the anger I had been suppressing all day start to bubble over just enough to get my rage just above manageable. My mother's sharp glance and Principle Turner's uninterested stares made me puff out a harsh breath of air and flopping back in my seat.

"Public schools have a zero tolerance policy for violence and on Christian's first offence he would have been kicked out of school immediately. I would like to think we have been very lenient with your son-"

"And for that I am so grateful," Mom said with false sincerity.

"-but we can no longer allow this to go on. May I suggest a reform school, maybe? There are many Military Academy's around this area if you wouldn't like to ship him away. My own son attended Riverside a few years back. He is now attending Yale." he said with a proud grin.

I swallowed audibly, watching my mother nod emotionlessly at his suggestion.

Military school? I thought in shock. She wouldn't!

My heart went into overtime when she accepted the pamphlets Principle Turner handed her for these boarding schools and boot camps for boys.

"So this isn't just a suspesion?" My mother's nails dug into the leather of her arm chair.

"I'm afraid not, Grace."

Mom nodded her head in acceptance once more.

"Thank you, Mr. Turner." Mom stood up with me in tow. "I will be picking Mia and Elliot up when school is out. Could you please give Elliot both of their transcripts. It will be their last day here as well."

Principle Turner's face twisted into confusion.

"Dr. Trevelyan, I can assure you that Mia and Elliot are more then welcome to stay here. They have posed no-"

"Mr. Turner," my mother started, her chin held high and hand holding mine in hers. "My children will never be separated. If one is out, then all will be out."

I swear, I though I heard Principle Turner's jaw hit the floor. Mom gave him a sickly sweet smile and pulled me by my sleeve.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Turner. It's been…interesting."

She pulled me roughly through the halls of the school and practically flung me into her Cadillac SUV.

"Put your seatbelt on," she snapped before launching the car out of the parking lot of the school and into traffic.

I did as she asked in silence, watching her as she mumbled to herself about my horrible behavior and what she could have done to prevent this. I felt my heart clench in my chest, guilt wrapping around it like a lethal Boa trying to constrict it's prey of all life. I slid down in my seat, eyes on my black trousers I wore as apart of my uniform. I smiled for a split second, loving that I would no longer need to wear the horrible things.

I groaned when I remembered what Mr. Turner had suggested for my mother and I knew that the black trousers and navy blue sweater would be a high preference instead of the navy suit I would be forced to wear at some boot camp boarding school.

As if reading my mind, my mother grumbled something to herself once more, reaching in her purse and rolling down her window. When her hand came to the surface after digging in her endless pit of a hand bag, it showed to be holding the pamphlets Mr. turner had given her. Without hesitation she flung them out her now open window, making my anxiety quickly drain out of my system.

"I'm not shipping off my son!" she chuckled darkly to herself. "The nerve of that man!"

I grinned slightly, feeling kind of stupid for ever thinking that my mother would ship me off.

"Mom?" I asked hesitantly. "Where are we going?"

I had noticed only a few miles back that we were heading into the city and not home, which sort of surprised me. Usually Mom took me home and made me wait until Dad got home so they could discuss my punishment but she wasn't headed that route. She hadn't even called Dad.

"Dr. Canter's office."

"What?" I yelled. "W-why? She'll just ask what happened and I don't want-"

"Christian," she closed her eyes at a red light, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please. Just cooperate with me? I'd prefer if you come in without fighting me but if you don't then I'll just drag your butt in kicking and screaming."

"You don't have to do that, Mom." I swallowed. "I'll come in."

And I did. I came in without giving my mother any grief and did as she asked. Even now, as we continued to wait outside Dr. Canter's office for what seemed like forever, I said nothing, despite my anxiety. I tried to shake off the nervous feeling, knowing the moment I stepped into Dr. Canter's office, she would see it on me. She probably smelled it, too, she's been doing this for so long.

I was taking deep breaths while my mother read some Women's Health magazine beside me when the door opened. My eyes were instantly on the door, thinking Dr. Canter would be there when I saw her. She was a tiny little thing, probably five or six years younger than I was. No older than eight or nine. Her pale skin and short stature made her look even younger but by the way she spoke over her shoulder with wary eyes to Dr. Canter, I knew she was older.

She wore jean cut offs and sneakers that matched her dark blue tee shirt she wore. Her thick, long brown hair made me gulp and shrink back into my seat.

My mind reeled, images of my own tiny hands tangling themselves into locks not much different from the little girls and twisting it into a braid while a pale figure lay motionless on the floor of an empty apartment.

Mom gave me a worried glance, touching my cheek softly and pulling me out of my own horrifying thoughts.

"Christian?" Mom asked.

The little girl's eyes flicked to me, large and blue put alert and filled with worry. For a moment, I became even more anxious. Those eyes were the same I saw in the mirror every single day. The expression, at least. Even the dark, purple rings around her pale blue irises matched my own. She was so little and yet she was exactly what I was.

The girl came to a halt in front of the man with the magazine. He didn't notice her at first due to her petite stature but when she crawled into his lap, he smiled warmly and embraced her eagerly.

"Ready to go, Annie?" he asked, kissing her forehead.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded after squeezing his neck tightly. He placed her on the floor, still keeping her hand in his, and began towards the door. As they passed us, I could feel m mother's voice vibrations in my ear but I didn't listen. I watched the girl, her eyes down cast towards the floor, hand clutching what seemed to be her father's.

Right as they walked past, her eyes flicked to mine, widening as she took in a small gasp of air and clung to her father's side. They were gone too soon, out of sight but not mind.

I don't even remember how I had gotten into Dr. Canter's office, but I had. She was already scribbling something, sitting at her normal spot a few feet away from me in her leather single seat. She must have noticed me staring at the door, and asked some useless question about what I was looking at.

I said nothing.

She let out a tiny sigh probably not meant for me to hear and continued to scribble.

"So, Christian," she began. "Your mother tells me you got into some trouble at school again today."

"Yeah. So?" I glared her way.

I had nothing against the good doctor. She was a nice lady and pretty smart too, but I wasn't one for opening up and boy was she for that team.

"Was it another fight?" she asked cooly.

Again, I was silent.

She placed down her pen, staring at me with her dark eyes that matched her hair. She looked just as exasperated as my mother did when it came to me and I understood that but some things were just not meant to be brought up with me. Almost a year and a half with the Doc and she still didn't understand that.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I'm sure you already know, Dr. Canter." I snorted, looking at some picture she had on her wall.

"I do, Christian. But I'd like to hear your side of the story."

I gave her a confused glance.

I was sure the manila folder she had in her hand was faxed over from Mr. Turner's office. They had my therapist's number just incase things like this happened. They sent over a report of each incident I had to her with full detail every time.

"The guy deserved it."

She chuckled just a bit.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"Pretty much."

"Can I ask why he deserved it?"

"Why do you care about some jungle gym brawl, Doc?" I finally snapped. "I didn't hurt the kid too bad. Just a black eye and a bloodied lip."

"You're right," she swayed back and for the a bit. "It wasn't as bad as last time. But just because it was someone's lip and not their arm doesn't mean I condone the violence anymore. Christian, did you like hitting that boy?"

I stilled in my seat, my eyes sharply shifting towards her relaxed form. Her eyes showed nothing but genuine concern and wonder.

The kid that I had slugged a couple of times before some teacher had pulled me off of him had deserved the beating I had laid on him and more. Sure, my anger had gotten to me in the worst way possible and maybe hitting the guy had felt good but not in the sense that I would just randomly hit someone. It felt good in the sense that I felt I did something right, not wrong. Not something I should have been punished for.

"Christian?" she said a bit louder. "Did you like hitting that boy?"

"No," I lied. "But he deserved it."

"Why did he deserve it, Christian?" she asked again.

"Because he pushed my sister, okay?" I finally yelled, slumping down in my seat.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment. She nodded, as if understanding and motioned me to go on.

"He pushed your little sister?"

"Yeah," I huffed, my breath coming out in pants. "She was playing tag or something with her little friend and she ran into some guy a year above me. He cussed at her and pushed her on the ground! She's only seven and that jerk pushed her. What was I supposed to do? Just let him get away with it?"

We were both quiet for a few minutes after that but it felt like forever. She didn't scribble in her notepad or stare at me with pity filled eyes like so many other shrinks had.

"You love your sister very much, Christian." it was a statement, not a question.

I stayed quiet, feeling my heart rate finally starting to come down.

"She's my baby sister," I whispered, looking down.

"You stood up for your sister, Christian. And I understand that. But there are many other ways to confront the situation instead of using your fists."

"Doc," I sighed. "If I had gone up to the guy and told him something, there still would have been punches thrown. The first probably wouldn't have been from me but the last certainly would have."

She looked surprised at that, obviously she didn't understand the way teenage guys worked. Hormones, testosterone. They could think whatever they wanted about us but the truth was, we didn't give a shit about all that crap. I hated the attention I got from girls and tried to distance myself from them as often as I could, which most of the guys at my school appreciated since that meant more for them so I never had trouble with that department. Girls were too touchy and I couldn't take it.

After another half hour of going round and round in circles when it came to her questions, Dr. Canter finally released me only to call in my mother. I sat outside in the waiting room until they called me back in. Mom was sitting in one of the three chairs in front of Dr. Canter's desk where the doctor sat.

Mom had a small smile on her face but I could see the fear in her eyes. It wasn't extreme fear or anything but more of a worry. She motioned for me to sit by her and kissed my head lovingly.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

I looked up at her with wide eyes. I didn't understand what was going on.

"You stood up for Mia," she touched my cheek, gazing at me with tear filled eyes. "That's why you hit that boy."

"Look Mom, I didn't-"

"My wonderful boy," she whispered and wrapped her arms around me ever so gently in a hug. "I love you so much."

I could handle her feather light hugs. I had been receiving them for so long that nowadays they were easy.

"Mom," I laughed lightly, patting her shoulder. "I love you, too."

A knock came at the door, a familiar face poking in. Dad's blonde hair hung in his face as he shot me a wink and sauntered in to sit beside me. I gave him a questioning look but he just shrugged and looked forward as Mom let me go. Dr. Canter began to speak, welcoming my parents and myself back in.

"As you both know, I have called you here for a reason," she began.

She had called Dad here? Why?

"Yes," Dad chuckled. "But you haven't told us that reason yet. I left a very important meeting at your insistence, Doctor."

"Christian has had his ups and downs, Mr. and Mrs. Grey. We all know this."

My parents nodded, making me roll my eyes.

"I would like to try something new with, Christian. A new exercise of sorts." she smiled my way gently.

"Okay?" my mother motioned for her to go on.

"Christian's PTSD has always been one of the more," she paused. "Pronounced and apparent form of PTSD I have ever seen."

I sunk down into my seat slightly, remembering what she had told me about PTSD when I had been diagnosed. Everything she had flung at me was exactly what I felt. Every single syndrome. It felt good to know what I was feeling but I was also a bit terrifying.

"Until today," she finished.

My eyes shot up, wider then both my parent's.

What?

"I have an idea, Mr. and Mrs. Grey. A technique of sorts. It has been tried before and has worked very well for children with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I think it will really help Christian in the long run." she sounded excited and enthusiastic.

The complete opposite of how I felt.

"What is this method, Dr. Canter?"

"It really doesn't have a name but I tend to call it the Bonding Method." sensing my parent's confusion she furthered her explanation. "We are basically introducing a new patient of mine and Christian to each other. If they happen to become friends, then so be it. If not, they will never have to speak again."

"A friendship?" Dad asked.

"With a child that also has PTSD?" my mother spoke.

"Exactly," Dr. Canter's smile grew wider. "None of us can feel what Christian or Anastasia feel. We don't understand it but maybe if they speak to one another, begin to understand one another we can begin to understand them and their feelings."

"Anastasia?" my mother smiled gently. "A girl?"

"Yes. Anastasia is fairly new to my practice. She's been with me three months now and I haven't been able to get her to open up to me." she looked straight at me. "Christian is a tough nut to crack as well."

"And your hoping together they may open up to each other?" Mom clarified.

"That is what I'm hoping. Would you be open to something like that, Christian?"

Everyone stared at me as I stopped to contemplate her question. Was I open to her experiment? - because let's face it, it's an experiment - Maybe. Was I open to new people? Not so much.

I swallowed audibly and nodded my head to appease everyone. I know I wanted help but I didn't know if this was the way I wanted to get it.

"Excellent! I have already spoken to Ana's father and he has agreed as well as Ana."

They spoke a little bit more about the situation before shaking hands, signing papers and leading me out. Before I knew it we were in the car, Mom and I, while Dad went to go pick up Mia and Elliot.

As I sat in my mother's car, I stared out the window thinking of the little girl with blue, wary eyes.


So what do we think of young Christian?:)

Reviews are very welcomed and appreciated!

-fighter