SORRY THIS UPDATE TOOK LONG, BUT I HAVE BEEN REALLY BUSY AT WORK AND STILL RECOVERING FROM ALL THE HOLYDAY DRAMAS. I AM CURRENTLY WORKING ON OTHER CHAPTERS FOR MY OTHER STORIES WHICH I HOPE TO UPDATE IN A FEW DAYS.

DISCLAIMER: I ONLY WISHED I OWNED FSOG, BUT THAT HONOR BELONGS TO E.L. JAMES, AND I AM JUST HAVING FUN WITH HER WONDERFUL CHARACTERS.

Clarification:

I made a few mistakes (booboos) regarding Elliot's son Carl, I mistakenly called him Ricky, and not just in this story but another one I am currently updating as well. I corrected my errors, and I am truly sorry for the confusion. A few of my readers caught the mistake and I thank them for pointing that out to me. To clarify who is who in this story and others:

Christian and Anastasia's children are: Theodore, Phoebe and Phillip, or Phil.

Elliot and Kate's children are: Ava and Carl Grey

Mia and Ethan's children are: To be announced soon! (Waaahaaa!)

...

COMING CLEAN

...

Theodore had waited years to have that special conversation with his father, one that was long overdue, at least according to him. For Christian, this was a conversation that he wished he did not have to have with his son. Christian could no longer put if off. Theodore was no longer a child; he was a grown man, a grown man that was entitled to know about his family history. A man who had asked his father about his childhood, he simply wanted to get to know him better as a man.

...

"Theodore, how much do you know regarding my adoption?" Christian asks his son as he takes a seat next to him on the sofa.

"Not much, I think. Just that you were adopted by grandma and gramps along with Aunt Mia and Uncle Elliot when you guys were just kids or babies. That's about as much mom and grandma told me."

Christian lets out a deep breath as he reclines back on the sofa while leaning his head back. "Well, it's obvious you know very little about my childhood. " He closes his eyes as he begins to tell his story.

"I was adopted when I was only four years old. I was the second to be adopted; your Uncle Elliot was the first to be adopted. A few years later, your Aunt Mia arrived in my mom's arms. She was this pink, little chubby angel with dark hair." Christian smiles fondly as he remembers that special day.

"Dad, how much do you remember? I mean, you were so young." Theodore asks as he shifts sideways to get closer to his father.

Christian does not answer right away.

"Dad?"

"I remember a lot. I remember a lot before, during and after my adoption Ted." He turns to face his son with a sad smile.

"You do?" A surprised Theodore asks.

"Yes."

"Oh, okay." Theodore nods as if to permit his father to continue.

"I remember many things that, if it were possible, I would gladly erase from my mind." He points to his head. "But some memories just stay with you, they never go away."

"Are you talking about good or bad ones?"

"The bad ones mostly, those are the ones I would give my fortune away to erase. The good ones…" He smiles while staring at his son. "You never want to lose those, never; those memories are the ones that keep you alive, the ones that keep your heart beating."

Theodore smiles back at Christian and asks. "Tell me about those memories dad, both the good and bad."

"Okay, I guess it's best to start with the bad ones first."

"Are you referring to memories before your adoption?"

"Yes."

"You said you remembered a lot. Do you remember your birth parents at all?"

"Only my birth mother, but not my father, the sperm donor. I never knew him."

"So, he was never around? Did your mother tell you anything about him?"

"Well, no, he was never around, and I doubt my mother even saw him again after they conceived me."

"So your birth mother raised you alone, until you were adopted by grandma and pops?"

Christian sighs as he rubs his forehead. "Yes and no son. Yes, she tried to raise me, best way she could, considering the circumstances at the time. And no, I pretty much looked after myself, most of the time anyways."

Theodore's eyes widen in response to his father's answer.

"What?"

Christian's sad smile confuses him even more.

"Dad, what the hell!"

...

"What do you mean you looked after yourself? Weren't you just a baby? What were you, about two or three years old?"

"Yes, I was just a toddler pretty much Ted, and I was on my own at such a young age. You see, my mother was unable and too unstable to take care of me. Most times she just slept, and when she was awake, she was too out of it to even take care of herself, much less me. So, at a young age, I was left alone, to fend for myself."

"Dad, what the fuck?"

"Ted..."

"Jesus dad, what the hell do you mean she just slept, or was just too out of it? What kind of mother just neglects her son? Was she some kind of drunk or what?"

"Ted..." Christian tenderly caresses his son's hand. "My birth mother was a shitty mother. Yes, she neglected me, she did not abuse me physically, but neglected me, and she failed to protect me."

Theodore rose from the sofa as he brushed his hand through his copper hair.

"Dad, you were just a fucking baby, what kind of mother would neglect her kid that way?"

He turns to look at his father, seeing nothing but sadness in his eyes.

"Dad, what was wrong with her. Was she that sick, I mean, mentally ill or something like that?"

"Yes, in a way, she was very sick Ted." He motions for his son to sit back down next to him "You see, my birth mother was a crack addict." Christian sighs as he looks down. "At the time I did not know this, because I was so young, I did not understand. It was years later, when I was older, that your grandmother Grace told me the whole story. My mother became a drug addict, most likely after giving birth to me, because medically, no drugs or any of its residues were ever found in my system. Anyways, the addiction took over her entire life, all she cared about was when and how to get her next fix, and she apparently did anything to get it. Neglecting me was simply a result of her addiction."

Theodore shakes his head in shock.

"Dad that is just plain sick. You were just a child. It must have been awful for you. Was there anyone else to look after you? I mean, did you really just fend for yourself? Who fed you or how did you eat?"

"No, there was no one else Ted. There were a few times when my mother was lucid enough to actually comfort me. I remembered those times when she would actually feed me, clean me or just simply put a blanket over me. She would sometimes sing to me. But as I mentioned it, they were just a few times, mostly it was just me crawling on the floor or trying to get on top of a chair to look for some crumbs of food or a drink of water. I would eat maybe a few pieces of bread a day, that is if I got lucky enough to find some. I don't even remember if I ever bathed, I remember being dirty all the time. To this day I still remember the stench in that bug infested placed we lived in. It reeked of spoiled food and urine. I think the urine smell was me, because I remember urination everywhere, most times I was too weak to make it to the toilet..."

"Dad...I..." Tears begin to stream down Theodore's face.

"No, don't cry Ted. Please son, look at me."

Theodore does as his father tells him as he wipes his tears.

"I shed too many tears as a boy Ted, but all those awful times are behind me now. It's my past and I thank God every day now that I can remember it without breaking down or losing control like I used to. I can relieve my past this way because of what I have now. I have the unconditional love and support of my family, and that is all that matters now."

"Sorry dad, it's just that..." Theodore gives his father an embarrassed smile.

"I don't want you to cry Ted; the last thing I want is to make you feel unhappy or sad. Just look at me now, I'm a very happy man son. I'm one happy son of a bitch, and you can take that to the bank."

Theodore snorts as Christian pats his shoulder. "Yeah, one happy son of a bitch alright. But you don't fool me dad, I know you still hurt because of what happened to you. I can tell, all I have to do is look you straight in the eye. I can tell dad."

Christian rubs the back of his neck as Theodore continues to stare at him.

"I hate this you know." Christian smiles.

"What?"

"This, you being able to read me like your mother does. Phoebe can too. I hate that both of you inherited that from her. Well, at least Phil can't."

"Says you, that pain in the ass can read you just as well. He's been asking me about you for a while now. You know, regarding your adoption."

Christian sighs and moans as he brings his hands to his face.

"Don't worry dad, I don't think you have to worry about this talk with him for a while. He's too busy thinking about girls right now."

"Good God, is he really? How come he hasn't come to me about it?"

"Um, well, he's been asking me questions about it. You know, the big brother thing."

"Man, I've been spending so much time with your sister at Grey Enterprises that I didn't realize your brother is at that age. I think I might have to have a talk with him sometime soon."

"Hey dad?"

"Yep?"

"You're straying off course here. I don't mean to push, but, I know there is more to your story than what you have told me so far. I would like to hear it, that is if you are able to do so."

Christian leans back on the sofa again. "Yes, I can continue Ted. For you, I will."

...

"As I told you before, my birth mother was too sick to care for me. Her addiction was just too strong; she was weak and was not able to fight her demons. In the process, I was left all alone. She was physically there with me, but mentally, well, I was pretty much alone."

"So no one else was there to look after you." Theodore states, not questions.

"No, and yes." Christian looks at his son who raises his eyebrow in confusion.

"There was someone else who live with us. He was my mother's..." He briefly closes his eyes.

"Your mother's...who dad?"

"My mother's pimp." Christian all but whispers.

Theodore stares at his father in shock, and unconsciously takes his hand in his.

"Your mom...she was...I, I mean..." He stutters out.

"Yes, my birth mother was a prostitute. She was a prostitute, and this monster, who called himself her daddy, used to call her his 'bitch'."

Christian presses his son's hand tighter, as if to pull more strength and courage from him.

"He, he abused her. He abused her in more ways you could ever imagine. He beat her up constantly, he demeaned her, and he brought all the vile, slime from the streets in order for them to have their way with her, while he watched, while I watched too. He would charge them and kept the money for himself."

For a minute of two, there was nothing but silence between the two men. Father and son remained silent, holding on to one another. Theodore was trying so hard to keep the tears away, that he did not notice right away that his father had already shed a few tears, because he had remained so quite.

Theodore turned to look at Christian as soon as he heard him sniffle while trying to wipe the tears with his other hand.

"Dad, I'm so sorry, dad. I had no idea." His words come out more like a whisper.

"Ted, you have nothing to be sorry about, so don't apologize for anything."

"Yes, yes I need to apologize. I had no right to demand anything from you. I had no right is asking you to tell me anything about your childhood. I had no..." Theodore is interrupted by his father.

"Son, stop that. Of course you have every right to ask me about my life. Because my past, present and future is with all of you. Your mother, your sister and your brother. I owe you all my past. You see, all of you are the ones that will continue mine and your mother's legacy. You carry and will carry the Grey name with pride. So I do owe you my past, my history, it's yours to inherit."

"Dad, I get it, but I..."

"No son, no buts, no regrets about you asking me for anything. I told you this before; you need to know who your father is. Where I came from, why I am the man I am now. Someday, and I fear it will be sooner than later, It will be Phoebe and Phil's turn to know their father."

Theodore offers his father a sad smile as he reaches over to wipe one last tear from Christian's face. "Okay then, Mr. Grey, you may continue."

"Ted, I honestly believe that my birth mother fell into that life due to unfortunate circumstances. I guess I will never know. With all my money and resources, I was only able to find out that she did come from a middle class family, and that both her parents are now deceased. She had no siblings, and only a couple of living cousins. I know that she went to college for a couple of years, but that she dropped out and nothing much after that."

"Dad, what was her name? Do you remember her name?"

"Yes, her name was Ella."

"Ella, why does that name ring a bell?"

"Maybe you heard me talking to your mother about her before."

"Yeah, maybe, I think so."

"What about your birth father. Did you ever find out who he was, or did you even try to find out about him?" Theodore regrets his question as soon as he notices the change in his father's demeanor.

"No, I never did find out who he was, nor do I care to find out. For all I know he was just another John she hooked up with. As far as I know or care, Carrick is my only father."

After a few seconds of silence, Theodore dares to ask his father.

"That asshole you mentioned before, your mother's pimp. You said that he abused your mother in many ways."

"Yes, he did." Christian lets go of his sons hand as he drops his face between his hands.

"Dad, did he abuse you too?"

Christian remains silent.

"Dad?"

He still remains silent.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay dad. I understand now."

Since Christian remains silent, Theodore begins to get up from the sofa, but as soon as he does, he feels his father's hand take hold of his.

"Yes." Christian's answer comes out sounding like a mere breath.

Theodore stares at his father as he sits right back down.

"Yes." Christian answers him again, this time looking right straight at him.

Before Christian says another word, Anastasia makes her presence known by entering his office.

"Alright you two, dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, and Christian, Phoebe called and she..."

She stops in mid-sentence...

TBC.

...

I had a hard time writing this chapter because I kept wiping the tears away. I know, it's a sad one, and the next chapters to come will be tear jerkers, but I promise, the ending will be worth it.

I had planned to finish this story in three chapters, but it looks like I still have a few more to write, maybe five or six.

Please don't forget to review, and all reviews are welcomed, even the negative ones, as long as they are not nasty. I do read all of them and try to respond to as many as I can.

XOXOX To all!