Disclaimer: Charatcers belong to E.L. James. Spoilers for Fifty Shades trilogy. Rated M due to sexual content and language.

So, I had an idea to write out some scenes based on Christian's sessions with Flynn, from before he meets Ana straight through the books, if I can manage it. I really hope you enjoy and if you do, please, please review.


"Good to see you again, Christian."

"John," Christian shook Flynn's hand and settled in one of the leather wing back chairs.

He trusted John Flynn, far more than he had the other idiots that his parents had set him up with, but that didn't mean he enjoyed all the talk-it-out crap. No, he didn't enjoy it, not at all, but he needed it. Christian didn't like needing it, but had convinced himself it was a means to an end, another way to maintain control.

Flynn also understood that Christian would not sit on the preferable 'shrink's couch' during their sessions. He still needed to feel somewhat in control, so he always chose the chair.

John settled on one of the twin sofas that faced the chairs and smiled. He never took notes during their sessions, he found it distracting for his clients, but Christian knew the sessions were being recorded to refer back to later. It meant a lot to him that Christian even allowed this, that he trusted him not to be exploitive.

"You've shadows under your eyes again, still having trouble sleeping?"

Christian nodded and unzipped his windbreaker, which he had pulled on for the jog here from his apartment. "They've been worse lately," he admitted quietly.

"Is it the same one or a variation?"

"Variation, but same theme as always." Fucking crack whore, fucking pimp, dead crack whore...

John nodded. "Did you want to talk about them?" he asked already knowing the answer.


John knew which battles to choose and let it slide. They both knew that the nightmares of Christian as a child were chilling and terrifying and talking about them only made Christian more uneasy. John had the description of them, the gist, and that was enough. No point in rehashing it. "Would you be willing to accept a prescription..."

"No." Christian's hated any kind of drugs, and would concede to only take Tylenol or an antibiotic when necessary. He much preferred herbal remedies if he had something he couldn't deal with by mentally blocking out the discomfort. Anything else, anything more, felt like giving into impulse and reminded him of the crack whore that had been his mother. Drugs were drugs, and he would have no part in them.

"What about that tea I recommended last time?"

Christian shrugged. He'd tried all the possible natural remedies and nothing worked. He either slept, had nightmares and woke, unable to sleep again, or he was too stressed over the idea that he might have the nightmares and simply didn't sleep at all.

John switched gears to get Christian to settle. "How are your family?"

"Fine. They're fine." Christian flexed his fingers and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a Rubix Cube. "Mom wants me to come to dinner."

"Why don't you?"

"I saw her last week," Christian retorted petulantly. "I'm the CEO of my own company, I can't just drop everything every time she calls..."

"Is that what you'd be doing?"

"It's what she expects!"

"Is it?"

Christian sighed as he completed one side of the cube. "No."

In fact, Grace usually only called him on Sunday to ask how he was, or let him know if there was any social obligations where the Greys were expected to attend. Actually, most of those she left with his administrative assistant to add to his schedule.

"She is a mother."

"I know. I know she feels a duty..." Christian stared intently at his Rubix cube.

"Is that all you think she feels for you, Christian?"

"She saved my life."

"Yes. "

"And I made hers...difficult for it."

"You think she sees you as a burden?"


Grace Trevelyn Grey had too much class to think of her children as burdens, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that she actually loved him. She cared about his welfare, his safety because that was the kind of person she was, but love? No. How could any woman love a child that she couldn't touch? A child that was so fucked up, so angry and difficult? He'd grown into a man, a man with a semblance of control and propriety, but they didn't know. None of them knew what kind of monster he really was, and so, of course Grace could never, would never love him the way a mother loves a son. His own mother hadn't wanted him, how could someone else's mother?

"Would you like to try the touch therapy today?"

"No." Christian wasn't in the mood to be pawed by John, he just wasn't. He had so much on his plate already, a new takeover, tense negotiations with a plant in Hong Kong and he had to give Lisa a toss because she was becoming too clingy.

"It's been several weeks, Christian."

"Next week. I'll do it next week, okay?" Christian completed one side of the Rubix cube.

"Well, what would you like to do today then?"

"Get laid."

John smirked. "Sorry, that isn't covered in my retainer."

Christian smirked. "Thank God for small favours."

"What happened to Leila?"


"Yes, Lisa. What happened to Lisa?"

"What makes you think anything happened to her?"

"If you are wanting to get laid it means you aren't, therefore I have to assume that the young woman you've been seeing..."

"Fucking," Christian corrected as he finished a full square of green.

"Having a relationship with," John amended and waved off Christian's vulgarity. "Is no longer available to tend to your needs."

"My needs." Christian snorted and rose to pace the room. "Yeah, that's what she was for, right?"

"Was it?"

"Fuck off."

"Why did you end it this time?" John asked, curious.

Christian shrugged and ran his hands through his hair as he set his toy down, moved to the window and looked out at the beautiful view Flynn's office offered of the skyline. Lisa was a decent sub, but like all the others she had started to expect more. Also, there was no challenge, no fun in fucking her. Not that there should be, when he was her Dom, it was her place not to challenge him, but her responses almost seemed premeditated.

"It wasn't working out."

"Why not?"

"She..." He didn't want to say she bored him, that would be cruel and ill- mannered, even when said in confidence, so he used his usual excuse. "She wanted more."


Christian hated it when John did that. "I don't do more, you know that."

"How much more did she want?"

"Just more." Another shrug and then Christian returned to his seat and started biting his thumb nail. "The usual."

"I forget what the usual is," John replied patiently. "Refresh my memory."

Christian sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. John Flynn didn't ever forget a God damn thing and they both knew it. "Just...the usual. Hearts and flowers and...shit."

"She asked you for hearts and flowers, and shit? Seems an odd combination to me."

Christian glared at him. Fucking smartass. "The usual as in, let's go to a club so everyone can see us, or let's meet up with my friends, or let's both sleep in your bed." He examined his cuticles and began to pick at one, destroying the manicure on his thumb. "Or they want to move in with me or..." He paused and swallowed, hard. "Touch me."

Christian couldn't deal with any of that, especially the last two. He always explained the limits, the conditions and an NDA was signed along with a consensual contract, yet after awhile the girls either got tired of not being able to touch him, or they wanted to hug and snuggle and be a fucking couple. Like that could ever happen!

"I see. Are you looking for someone else then?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I've been busy with work, very busy. I don't have time to fucking shop around for a new sub."

John nodded and let the subject drop. He understood Christian's need for a BDSM relationship, it was one that he could control and the basis of his need to inflict pain and receive sexual gratification stemmed from his brief history with his birth mother. At the moment, it was a way for Christian to cope and the only way for him to experience any kind of intimacy. It would have to suffice until he was willing to open himself to alternatives.

"Have you given any more thought to that therapy I've suggested?"



"And it sounds stupid."

John resisted the urge to sigh. "Well, you've done everything else. right?"

Having studied Christian's file and seen his previous exposure to a revolving door of therapists, John didn't see the point of rehashing the same things over and over, it obvious wasn't working. Still, it was a challenge to get this brilliant, yet complex and tortured young man to accept that anything, any form of therapy would actually help.

"Pretty much."

"So, let's give it a try and see what rolls out?"

"Fine." Christian picked up the Rubix cube again.

"Where do you see yourself in, let's say, a year from now?"

"The CEO of my own company."

John stared at him. "Let's shoot for something a little higher, shall we?"

"Higher?" Christian smirked. "I think that's pretty damn impressive."


"How about rich, powerful and fucking some brown-haired girl?"

"Again, we're trying to reach into the future and find a place you'd like to be where you currently aren't."

"Therapy free?"

John smiled. Even in sweatpants, a t-shirt and jogging jacket Christian Grey exuded control and power, but John knew that there was a very insecure little boy behind that demeanour and so it was easier for him not to be intimidated. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure to see that happen, Christian."

Christian solved the Rubix, set it on the small end table beside him and sat back, crossing one leg over the other again. "Then pronounce me cured and I'll be on my way."

"It isn't about being cured, it's about helping yourself accept, properly accept, who and what you are."

"I accept that I am the son of a dead crack whore, multi-billionaire CEO, environmentalist and Dom, with an appetite for young brown-haired girls. That is who and what I am."

"You are the King of Bullshit, an over indulgent pretty-boy and an adolescent."

Christian smirked. "That too."

"Work with me here, Mr. CEO Billionaire."

"Where do I want to be in a year..." Again Christian sighed and leaned his head back, exposing his throat and closing his eyes as he searched for an answer. "Barbados?"

"Let me ask you this. Are you where you want to be in business?"

"Mostly, there's always room for improvement and growth."

"The same goes for your personal life." John ignored Christian's groan. "Whether you like it or not, it's the truth." John sat forward. "Let's start with this, let's say a year from now you want to be able to be touched."

Christian's expression closed over. "No." He couldn't handle that, didn't want that and nothing John did, not the talking, not the moronic exercises and certainly not the touch therapy was going to change the fact that he did not like to be touched.

"Christian, everyone wants to be touched." Some, John thought sympathetically, needed it even more than others and Christian was one of those people. He understood the fear the panic that overtook his patient, his friend when someone touched him in certain areas and that was something Christian couldn't control at this moment in time. That didn't mean he didn't want it.

Christian lowered his eyes as the pulse jumped against his jaw, gritting his teeth at the very idea of admitting to something he could never have.


"I can't handle it."

"Right now, no, but in time..."

Christian bolted from his seat. "Right now, a year from now, ten years from now, it doesn't fucking matter!" he growled, angrily and found himself rubbing his chest. "I can't do it! I've tried!"

"You have to keep trying, Christian."

"I don't need it!"

"Of course you do! Every person needs to be touched, Christian. Every person needs that level of intimacy."

"Not me."

"Why not?"

Christian turned back, leaned against John's desk and pulled at the front of his shirt, his heart felt like it was going to come through his ribcage. "It hurts," he croaked and hated himself for it.

"Being touched doesn't hurt you, Christian, the fear, the mistrust is what hurts you."

"She touches them all the time," Christian whispered appalled at the agony in his own voice. "They let her, they can let her do that and I...I ..." Can't. Christian could not even allow his mother to touch him beyond a very simple touch on his arm or brief kiss on the cheek.

"You let your sister touch you."

"It's different."


"I...I don't know." And he didn't. Christian didn't have a clue why Mia could touch him or hug him or throw herself at him and it didn't affect him. Perhaps because he had watched her grow up? Perhaps because he had been there all her life and knew who she was and what she would do.

"You want your family to touch you? Your mother?"

"No." Yes! His heart screamed and he knew John Flynn fucking heard it because the man had fucking dog ears! "I can't."

"I didn't say you could, I said you want to."

Christian bit his lip so hard he tasted blood then slowly returned to his chair and slumped upon it. "Yes," he whispered and dropped his face into his hands. He did want his mother to touch him. He wanted to know what it felt like to be held by her, to be kissed and stroked the way she held and kissed and stroked Elliot and Mia and Carrick.

"We'll get there. You know that don't you?"

Christian raised bleak eyes to his therapist. "It doesn't matter. If she knew what I was, what I really was, she wouldn't want to touch me any way."

"And what are you really?"

"A monster."

"How so?"

"I'm a...a..." Christian squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed. "You know what I am."

"Yes, I do, but you seem a little confused."

"I'm a fucking sadist!"

John sighed and gritted his teeth in irritation. "Christian, we've been over this. You are not a sadist..."

"I beat up women and fuck them because they remind me of my mother. What the fucking hell is that if not sadistic?"

"It's a coping mechanism, and a lifestyle choice, but you are not some criminal psychopath bent on hurting others. There are any number of people who do what you do, live with that type of sexual need that were not left on the floor of an apartment building for three days next to their dead mother's body!"

Christian winced and grew quiet. "Are we done?"

"No. I want to try the touch therapy."



"I said no!" Christian pulled it in, struggled for and found his control and became the impassive, stoic CEO once more. "I have things to do." He returned his Rubix Cube into his jacket pocket and rose. "I'll talk to you next week."

John rose and shook Christian's hand. "You are a handful, Christian."

Christian shrugged and grinned. "I know."