A/N for 2018-11-23: Thank you to the guest reviewer who commented on what I'd been struggling to put words to - yes, more melodrama than angst, and definitely repetitive on several fronts. I came to the same conclusion when I reread the whole story from the beginning the other week.

As for Mark, sometimes good intentions come wrapped as assholes. He's attempting to be overly protective, guiltily trying to make up for his complete screw up earlier in the story. Obviously, he isn't doing so well.

If you find this chapter melodramatic, please let me know - because I've aimed for it not be. Want to hear if I made the mark on that front.

~ Erin

Bella was restless, sitting on the normally comfortable chair. She'd pressed forward with questions, not wanting to give Charlotte space to ask her own.

"Can you talk to me about anger?" she asked her counsellor, twisting and distorting the hem of her shirt in one hand..

"What do you want to know about it?"

Bella huffed out frustrated air. Did she need to be specific?

"Sorry," Charlotte said, "I'm used to clarifying things for people, not so much being asked questions myself." She drummed her fingers on her cup. "It's protective, really. Keeps you from feeling the things that hurt."

Nodding, Bella considered what this meant. She'd been angry to the point of having her ears ring, when Edward had heard her thoughts.

"Been feeling angry lately?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask with who, or about what?"

She let loose another lungful of air.

"Besides the local law enforcement and social service representatives?" Charlotte added gently.

Bella let herself laugh a little. She'd come in fuming, explaining what had happened, leaving little room for talk on Charlotte's end.

The laugh seemed to pick up the edge of other feelings, layered just under the very thin calm that had settled in the beginning of their session. She became silent, feeling those other things stir.

"Hard to think about?"

Bella nodded.

Another wave of anger surged upwards. She let it come, and then recede, searching for what was under it.

She'd felt so close—so close, to having some control in her life. Even though she'd panicked the night before, she'd at least known she could go to her own home, and make her own choices about what happened the next day.

Now she didn't get that choice. Again.

"What's going on for you, Bella?"

"There are a lot of things I can't control, but that other people can."

Charlotte nodded, encouraging her.

"It's a lot like what happened to me before."

"Yes."

Her mind darted towards some very specific memories, and she struggled to veer away, landing instead at the recollection of Edward's refusal.

Her face felt hot, and there was a slight 'pop' as she ripped a stitch in her shirt. She let go of the fabric.

"What were you thinking about right then, Bella?" Charlotte's voice was soft, and the question, Bella knew, was a suggestion. She'd told her early on that she didn't need to answer questions unless she wanted to.

"I asked Edward to sleep with me, and he said no." She flicked her gaze up to Charlotte, and then down, making sure the counsellor's neutral expression remained. She trusted her, in theory, but it was a thing that craved frequent reassurance. "He said it would be taking advantage of me."

Now she looked at Charlotte, waiting on her verdict.

"And how did that make you feel?"

Bella rolled her eyes.

Charlotte persisted. "How, Bella?"

"Angry, obviously."

"And what else?"

Bella swallowed. "Hurt."

"And?"

It was much quieter. "Out of control."

Charlotte made a quick scribble on the notepad beside her. "I think that you need to have, and feel as much control in your life as you can. But, there are some things that just aren't going to be within that, certainly not until you're eighteen, and perhaps some things, not ever."

"Like what?"

"Like controlling who sleeps with you."

Bella's eyes widened in horror.

"No, no," Charlotte hurried out. "I mean deciding who will sleep with you, and when, Bella. It's a mutual choice."

Bella breathed out in relief.

"But your wanting that, Bella, and pursuing it, is a completely understandable reaction."

"Sex?"

"Control over sex, and control over your body." Charlotte paused, smiling apologetically. "It's also a course of action that many victims of assault regret later on."

"Great," Bella moaned, rubbing her face in her hands. Just great.

"Can I ask, what kind of experience you've had before, in terms of physical intimacy?"

Now the blush was one of embarrassment. "There wasn't," Bella said quietly. "Edward's the first person I've ever really…" She struggled for a word, "Dated." That wasn't it, but she wasn't sure what was.

"And you've been seeing each other for a few weeks?"

"Yes."

"And now you'll be living together."

"Yup."

"But that's preferable to living further away?"

"Absolutely."

"You're OK living with him?"

"Yes."

"And if things don't work out?"

"Living there?"

"With Edward?"

Bella's chest spasmed, and her breathing picked up. It hurt, just contemplating that. "I don't know." She couldn't imagine where she'd be living would be anything close to a concern, more trying to reassemble her heart.

Charlotte's eyes felt heavy on her, and Bella pointedly looked away.

The question shook her, and the rest of the session limped on from there, so that when she left, she was glad to find Edward waiting outside by her truck.

After she pulled away from his hug, she asked, "So, what did you do, while I was there?"

"Worked on not listening."

"Good," she sighed.

There was a small smile on face. "I may be freakishly overprotective, but I want you to have your privacy."

"Thank you, that's going to be. . . well, interesting, now that we're apparently living together."

"I wanted to talk to you about that."

They were in the truck now, Edward having playfully plucked the keys from her pocket. He sat in the driver's seat.

"Overprotective," she mouthed.

He chuckled. "I don't have to live there, if you need your space."

"No, I want you there. And I think it would be. . . awkward, without you."

"If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

"OK," he said, his hand having caught hers, fingers toying with the top of her hand. "Next question then. Alice has been busy rearranging things at home. She wanted to know if you'd like your own furniture from your room."

"No, it's fine. It'd just be a nuisance to move it—"

"Bella, do you want your things? Because it's nothing really, beyond a few minutes of work. I want you to be as at home as you can be. If—"

"No, really, I'm OK, Edward. I have you. I'll be at home."

He looked down at her hand, absorbing these words, and squeezed her fingers.

Bella wondered if it was too much to say that, and breathed in, readying new words.

Edward's kiss prevented anything but a slow, bubbling moan at her throat.

"I feel the same way about you," he whispered, cold hands cradling her head. Then he grinned, sitting back a bit. "But I warn you, Alice really is rearranging everything, so prepare yourself."

"Bring it," Bella chuckled, clipping in her seatbelt. "But I need to stop at home to pack."

"No, actually, you don't."

"But—"

"Already taken care of."

Her eyebrows shot up, and Edward looked worried suddenly. "Alice asked, and I didn't think you'd—"

"No, it's fine," Bella said, biting her lip, but knowing a roiling in her gut. It wasn't fine. It was a complete invasion of her privacy. "Actually, no, it's not. I need—I know you all want to help, but ask me, please, first."

"I will. I'm sorry. Do you, um. . . want me to have her put it back?" There was no trace of humour in his voice as he asked.

"No, but thank you," she said, letting herself smile at the offer.

- 0 -

They were laying bed, in what was now Bella's room—formerly Esme's study.

"I do not mind," Esme had assured her. "I'm quite happy you're here, Bella. We all are." She looked at Edward with a small, but knowing smile. "Very happy. It's yours."

Edward had shown her around the space, which was, like the rest of the house, beautifully appointed.

"Where did this all come from?" She'd asked, looking at the furniture.

"Alice," Edward had said, shrugging, as if this one name encompassed all.

Bella had laughed.

Now there was not enough air for laughter, but Bella didn't mind. There was enough for what they were doing, and it left her pleasantly breathless and tingling.

She doubted Edward minded the light-headed state his lips were leaving her in. But then he pulled away, as he always seems to do—too soon.

She put a hand to her lips, trying to hold the ghost of his touch there, staving off the loss of sensation a little longer.

Edward's hand lingered on her arm, keeping that near constant contact they both seemed to crave.

She was working up to asking the question that had been troubling her. It seemed important to address it.

She began quietly, eyes locked on the bedspread. "Do you find me attractive? Physically?" An unwanted blush made her cheeks redden as the words stumbled out.

When she dared look up, there was a pinch between his eyebrows. His voice was its usual velvet. "Of course." His hand rested on her cheek. "I've told you that many times."

This was true. He had told her as much before kissing her.

"You do. It's just—" A wave of frustration joined the embarrassment. Getting her tongue around the statement was not something she had much practise with. "I've never felt you be…" She sighed. "Aroused, with me."

The blush faded, and the very real fear that he didn't want her that way bubbled up to the surface, making her face its pale self again.

He didn't answer with words, instead stretching himself up and over her, pressing her back into the thick pillow.

She felt the familiar, cold, and welcome press of his lips to hers, and then the press of something else that was hard, and cold, to the meeting of her thighs.

"Yes," he whispered between kisses, "I find you insanely attractive."

The movement, and the kisses, became rhythmic, punctuated by his and her soft groans. Finally, his noises grew to a steady purr, and then a growl.

For herself, she rode a wave of feeling, lifting her to an expectant curl, poised, ready to—

And then she woke up.

"Bella?" Edward asked.

There was a diffuse light in the room, spread, she realized, from the other, lit windows of the house reflected back by the trees that surrounded the property. This dim illumination allowed her to see that Edward had put his book down where he sat, a short distance away from her.

"Are you alright?"

She didn't trust herself to speak yet, so she nodded instead.

"Bad dream?"

Her head shake was small.

She could have sworn she felt him, in that dream. It'd been so real.

God, she'd wanted it to be real.

The wanting was a near ache, felt many places.

Don't cry, she told herself.

Do. Not. Cry.

It was too late. A small trickle had already begun its rebellious journey down the side of her face.

"What's wrong?" He was beside her now, his hand seeking hers.

"Nothing wrong, it was just a really. . . good, dream."

"What was it about?" His fingers made that regular, and gentle brush over hers.

Could he see her blushing in the dark?

His other hand stole towards her cheek, touch icy against its heat.

Yes, he could.

"Um . . ."

Then he leaned down and kissed her neck.

"Did it have something to do with this?" he murmured, applying another soft stamp of his lips.

"Yes."

He chuckled. "I thought so."

She stiffened, and pressed her hands to his shoulders. "You did?"

"Mm-hm." His throat burred with the sound, the contact of their skin carrying it down the length of her body. His lips kept moving, planting themselves in chaste locations.

It was her turn to pull away.

"Sorry," Edward murmured, his eyebrows drawing together. He stayed still, like he was afraid he'd frighten her.

"No, don't apologize, I just—what exactly did you hear?"

Now he grinned sheepishly. "You said my name, and then made some very . . . appreciative sounds."

She wondered idly, if she could turn any redder than she was right now.

"That's not something to be embarrassed about," he murmured.

"Says the man who can't sleep, and then have his sex dreams heard."

His grin was lopsided and wide. "Do you want a running commentary on my fantasies, Bella?"

Yes.

"No." She felt utterly flustered. "I mean, I wouldn't want to hear them unless you wanted me to hear them, and considering you want to wait, and—"

"I'm sorry I heard something you'd rather I didn't," he said softly, fingers back at their usual post—tangled with hers.

They stayed this way for a few minutes.

The near darkness emboldened her. "You have fantasies?"

His chuckle rumbled up her arm. "Many."

That damn blush. He barely needed to hear her thoughts with her traitorous circulation.

"Was there something more to this dream, perhaps, than I understood?" He asked this softly.

"Are you attracted to me, Edward, physically?" She pushed these words out on the tail end of a brave, and hasty breath.

"Very much, why?"

This was so much like the dream, she was almost afraid to say.

Almost.

She whispered it instead. "I've never felt you be aroused, when we're together."

His face relaxed. "I'm a vampire, Bella. I have complete control over my body. Even that."

"Oh."

Now he moved closer, and she tensed in anticipation. When his arm slid behind her back, her breathing hitched up.

"I've been careful out of an abundance caution. The two desires are very . . . close." Now he almost shrugged. "I also didn't want to frighten you."

Now she laughed, openly, and likely, too loudly.

"I'm sorry," she managed, "it's just—" she could barely continue. "The idea of you wanting me, being frightening, is just—"

Edward's eyebrows were high on his forehead, a sardonic look at his lips.

"I am so laughable, am I?"

She was still laughing. "No, just—"

He didn't let her finish, and this time, the kiss was one that showed her how much he did want her, full and possessive. His body slipped over hers, and he let his hand trail down her body, leaving her panting between touches of their lips. He hitched his hand under her knee, and then used it to tip her over on top of him.

The clothes between them did nothing to mask the distinct shape his body pressed between her legs.

But it wasn't like her dream.

It was like feeling what David had done. She pushed off of him, and the bed, moving to the window, hiding her face in its black mirror. "Sorry," she mumbled, "Just give me a minute."

He didn't respond.

The glass fogged with her breath many times before she turned around.

He was gone.

"Edward?"

There was a soft knock at the door.

Bella was shaking her head, trying to wake herself up from what must be a dream within a dream, when Alice's muffled voice reached her. "Bella?"

She didn't answer, staring at where Edward had been, thinking the worst possible things.

Alice's voice was clearer now. She was in the room. "He needed to hunt, Bella. He won't be gone long."

The empty space stared angrily back at Bella.

"Everything's OK. He'll be back soon."

But everything was not OK, and when Bella finally found her voice, it was to tell Alice just that.

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.