Dear friends, yes the story is back. I promise that the absence was not fickle and I am extremely grateful to those of you who have messaged me since I last posted. Without you I don't know if I would have had the courage to get back into something as deeply personal as writing a story.

I have had to re-read the story and while the events are the same, the writing needed some updating, a few inconsistencies needed cleaning up... I did also write a few more chapters. So I am now going to repost a chapter every other day.

For those of you new to this little shindig: Obviously I am a fan of FSOG and have read quite a few fanfics, many of them marvellous. One day I happened upon what I think was supposed to be a one shot, Never Look Back, by DCOliver. Ana had left Christian and built a new life. And it got me thinking.

All Grey and GEH characters belong to EL James. I claim the rest.

Have you ever experienced a true summer storm? Imagine a glorious summer day, the sun shining in the deep blue sky, the air shimmering with the heat, every colour around you vibrant and full. A whisp of wind caresses your skin, the coolness welcome despite the raised bumps on your naked arm. It's just a fleeting moment before warmth once again cocoons you and soothes the chill. Later in the day, when rain pours in a thick veil and strips of lightning are followed by roaring thunder, do you spare a thought for that soft breeze and its whispered warning of the change to come?

Ch 1 The wind of change

In the early evening of the last Monday of April, Anabelle Parson –Belle for her friends and family – left the local Bi-Lo with two full bags of groceries. Both her boys had been home over the weekend and some restocking was needed.

Nick was an IT consultant in Charleston and Dan's son from his first marriage. His mother had been a police officer, just as Dan. When she died, killed by a stray bullet while responding to a domestic incident, Dan had retired from the police and taken a job in a local car repair shop.

Eddy was her son, currently a student at the University of South Carolina.

She and Dan had met a year after she had arrived in Rock Hill, SC, the small town, she now called home. He had brought Nick at the library for an evening of Christmas stories. The event had been her initiative, an attempt to bring more readers to the county library where she worked. Her first Christmas in Rock Hill had been spent with just her father and her son and now Dan and Nick were facing their first Christmas without Jane, Nick's mother. To her father's dismay, she had invited the two to share a home cooked meal on Christmas Day.

Nick and Eddy were only two years apart and soon became friends as she and Dan also got to know each other better. Both still reeling from devastating ends to previous relationships, romance was not their intention. Familiarity and mutual acceptance of their respective boundaries, more than the usual kind of attraction was what led them to spend increasing amounts of time in each other's company. The Fourth of July weekend found them sharing a picnic blanket, one too many bottles of wine, and a fumbling dance to the sound of the band playing in the park. Their relationship changed into some else.

A few months later, her pregnancy with Emma was a surprise, but one they both took as a sign that they needed to move on from their pasts and focus on the future.

Beyond the usual milestones of children growing up and minor work place drama, few clouds marred their peaceful existence. A storm had ripped through the town damaging their house, but the house was eventually repaired. Emma had been hit by a car and for a while they feared she might lose her leg, but treatment had been found and they remained hopeful that, other than the scars, she would make a full recovery. Then Ray, her father, passed away. His quiet, unwavering support had carried her through losing her mother to another man's attention and again when her first marriage had fallen apart. He had left his own life behind to be by her side and steadfastly encouraged her to build a new life. For that loss there was no remedy.

While Dan had freely shared the story of his previous marriage and to this day still took the family for a yearly visit to the cemetery where Jane rested, all Belle had ever shared was that Eddy's father had remarried and was no longer a part of their lives. It was entirely possible, even probable, that Ray had provided more of an explanation. Just grateful that Dan didn't probe any further, she never asked either of them. Her past would remain locked deep inside her heart and in the recesses of her mind. Once a year, at Jane's grave, she allowed herself a private moment to grieve for all that had been lost. Occasionally, memories of soulful grey eyes would haunt her dreams. Sometimes, as Eddy reached and passed some milestone or other, the absence of his father would pick at the scar left by her failed first marriage. The key to her sanity was to just let the moment pass. Like goose bumps raised by a cool breeze on a warm summer day, the pain and sadness would soon fade.

The news Eddy had brought home this weekend were however bound to change at least some of that. He was going to Harvard, to study law. Pride and joy for his success were instantly drowned by raising panic. Harvard was his biological father's alma mater. He was one of the most famous students of the prestigious institution. Given Eddy's resemblance with his father at that age, there was a possibility that someone would make the connection, or that he would stumble upon a photograph. With a smile plastered over her worries, she had busied herself keeping every one well fed, keeping the conversation going, ensuring Nick and Emma also got some air time…There was however no escaping the inevitable. She would have to open the closed book of her past and share at least some of it with her family. At some point, in the quiet and dark of the night, to tense or too afraid to fall asleep, she had reached a conclusion: all of that could wait until after Eddy's graduation.

Her progress across the parking lot slowed by the burden of the grocery bags, Belle finally reached her car and awkwardly leaned against the trunk, one hand rummaging in her handbag for the keys. A car door opening and closing and the sound of footsteps on the pavement were just background noise. Until the footsteps came to a halt and a pair of black leather shoes peaked at the edge of her visual field. More curious than worried, she vaguely noted the impeccable shine was odd in the dusty town. They had not had any rain in a month.

Her gaze travelled upwards over an equally impeccable black suit, snow white shirt and navy tie, until she reached the face of the man patiently standing not three feet away.

"Mrs. Parson."

Her name felt eerie. Afraid that she was losing her mind, terrified that she didn't, she shook her head. "You can't be here."

His lips moved. Blood rushing through her ears drowned the words. The bag started slipping from under her arm. First one and then the other of her arms were freed of their burden, then an arm at her lower back gently stirred her away. Her body automatically allowed his guidance. It knew it could trust him. Used to trust him. He used to be in charge of keeping her safe.

Sat in the passenger seat of her car, the man crouching next to her, her eyes darted from his face to his body, then to the parking lot surrounding them, and back again.

"Luke?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry. I realize this must be a shock. I could not think of any other way to approach you yet keep this meeting private."

Blue eyes a few shades clearer than hers carefully monitored her reaction. "I have a letter for you, and some documents."

"A letter?"

"Mr Grey thought_" The hint of colour that had returned to her cheeks making a hasty retreat stopped him mid-sentence. Toning down his business demeanour he rephrased "I was asked to deliver them and remain available should you have any questions or an immediate comment."

"Now? After eighteen years, now I can ask questions?" Laboured breaths worked their way in and out of her lungs. She closed her eyes to shut him out, to calm her thoughts and the maelstrom of emotions. When she opened them, she met his gaze with quiet determination. "Why are you here, Luke?"

"As I said, Mr_ he wanted them hand delivered."

"Something wrong with the postal service?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no more than usual anyway."

His feeble attempt at humour missing the mark by a landslide, Luke Sawyer held her gaze to gently remind her: "As you returned the previous letters, he wanted me to ask that you please read this one."

His words not making much more sense than his presence, she once more shook her head: "I didn't return any letters."

Luke hesitated. "If you give me a second, I have the letter in the car." Rising from his crouching position he reached into his car to retrieve a leather manila folder and a white envelope.

"What letters?" she asked, ignoring the offerings.

Sawyer took a deep breath and slowly released it. "It was a long time ago. Will you take this one? Take some time to read it. When you do, if you have questions, or an answer, I will be at the TownePlace for the rest of the week."

She knew this tactic. She had been there before, when one of them would be dodging her questions. She looked at the objects in his hand. Knowing where they came from, she couldn't bring herself to touch them. With a slight movement of her head, she indicated the glove compartment.

"Would you please allow me to drive you home? Or would you like to call somebody to take you?" Luke asked once the objects were stored in the small storage space.

Driving was, indeed, the last thing on her mind, and Dan was still at work. The fingers wrapped around the car keys he had placed in her hand relaxed until the shiny metal was resting against her open palm.

They were already merging in the light traffic when she realised: he hadn't asked for directions.

"You know where I live," she murmured. "Does… he know?"

"He does."

"How long?"

"A few years."

Sharp and fiery, pain lanced through her chest. "What's in the folder?"

She felt it more than she saw it, the tightening of his hands on the wheel, the tension in his shoulders.

"He has not shared that information with me."

"But you have an idea."

"He just wanted me to ask that you please read it."

"You already said that," she pointed out. Her jumbled thoughts falling into some semblance of coherence, she half turned to have a better view of her former body guard. "The other letters, how long ago were they?"

Sawyer darted a quick glance her way, then fixed his stare back on the road. "He sent them before you left."

Disappointment washed over her. "If he wrote to me, he never sent them."

For weeks, month perhaps, she had hoped he would contact her. If not for the two of them, at least for the sake of their son. He hadn't. Other than legal papers via the lawyers, the only somewhat personal message she had received was with the final divorce papers and the paperwork for their new identities. Eddy's birth certificate stated 'father unknown'. Her father had to inform her that his lawyers had informed hers who had informed him that "the relationship would be easy enough to prove should it become necessary."

Maybe she should have fought back. But once he had cut her out, blocked her number, ignored her messages and took over the running of her business, his family had followed suit. None of them ever contacted her again, nor did they respond to her attempts to contact them.

"Does the rest of the family know? About us, where we are," she broke the silence.

"No, they don't."

"They never asked about us?"

Luke Sawyer checked his mirrors, then signalled and pulled over, bringing the car to a stop. Freed from driving duties, he turned his attention to his passenger. "Carrick asked, in the beginning. As of now I don't have any interaction with the rest of the family, so I don't know what questions they may have asked."

Her eyes stung. She blinked it away. "I didn't know if he knew…anything anymore. Has he…He knows where I shop," she pointed out.

"I don't know if he knows about the shopping. I've been in town since lunchtime. He knows where you work."

"How long has he known?"

"At least fifteen years."

"At least?"

"I was in charge of looking for you. I failed and left Seattle for several years. By the time I returned he had already found you. We never discussed how and when, or who."

Thoughts racing a mile a minute, her eyes darted over his face. "You lost your job? But…you couldn't find us? Dad thought he didn't know where we were, but I…" Deep breaths. In and out. Start again. "I'm sorry you lost your job. But if you never discussed it…you've been back fifteen years?"

"No." Sawyer hesitated. "I saw some pictures in his office. Teddy looked about five."

"Pictures? He has…" Sadness and bewilderment faded replaced by anger. "He has someone taking pictures of Eddy?"

"No!"

"How. Did he. Get. Pictures. Of. Eddy?" she fired at him.

"He takes them when he visits."

"Visits? Visits where?" She blanched as her eyes widened. "Here? He has…been…here?"

Shaking hands blindly floundered for something to touch, for anything they could hold. One landed on the door handle. A struggle against the seatbelt was short lived. In an instant, she was free and stumbled out of the car and in the open air. A couple of steps backward and she had enough distance to get some perspective. "What kind of pictures?"

Hastily getting out of his seat, Sawyer followed her. "Usual ones: birthdays, school and sports events. Some New Year's and Fourth of July."

"Usual? He cut us off!" she shouted. Her widespread arms took the universe to witness. "He signed off on us! He never tried to see his son or talk to him or be near him! But he has pictures? Why the hell does he have pictures?"

"The first time I entered his office, I couldn't hide my surprise at seeing them. He informed me that unless I became aware of a security threat 'This subject is off the table.'"

Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground. Knees bent close to her body, arms protectively circling her legs, her heart pounded in her chest. Fighting to get her body if not her mind back into some semblance of working order, she just sat there at the side of the road. Vaguely aware of Sawyer still watching her, she ignored him. He was always watching. That was his job. Ridiculously, it was the only thing that still made sense.

'This subject is off the table.' On second thought that too made sense. Pictures or not, nothing had changed. He had cut her and Eddy out of his life.

"I need to get home," she eventually conceded.

Back in the car, her eyes darted to the man next to her. "I take it you're still security?"

"Corporate side, but yes, I am."

"So, you are not her CPO?"

"A man my age lurking all day around a school might have given the wrong impression."

"A school? Why a…" she didn't finish the sentence. She knew he had remarried. The bride had been pregnant. With her house now in sight, she found the strength to finish the sentence: "I meant his wife, but you don't have to answer."

Sawyer shook his head just as he stopped in front of her home. "He isn't married."

For a tiny fraction of a unit of time, her face relaxed. It didn't last. They were on her driveway. She didn't need to fumble this time, just opened the door and got out of the car.

"Is that why he sent you? His marriage failed and we're plan B? Don't answer that!" she snapped, then marched herself to the rear of the vehicle.

Sawyer reached her before she could pop the trunk. "The divorce was many years ago. That marriage only lasted a few months!"

"Was she…who I found at Escala?"

"Yes."

"Did you know she…could be there?"

"No."

There. Two questions: same woman and Sawyer didn't know. She popped the trunk.

"Would you like help with those?" he offered.

"No," she muttered.

Sawyer retrieved a business card from his wallet, the fluttering of white pulling her attention back to him. "In case you have any questions."

With barely a glance at the card, she placed it in one of the bags. The open trunk hid the rest of the car from her view. But the cover was temporary. The letter and the leather folder could not be ignored. She turned to Sawyer, and his silent presence finally communicated its true meaning: she could speak with his security, but not with him. Making sure she had the house key ready, she picked up one bag.

"How will you get to the hotel?"

"I'll make a call. Someone will pick me up."

"In this case…I'll let you know," she said, and breaking eye contact turned towards the white porch with the bed of roses, the closest she could get in this climate to her favourite flowers. Peonies didn't do well in the heat of South Carolina.