Author's Notes:
In which Edward remains a Bella-free zone but there's some light on the horizon. Angst, plot and a few chuckles.
The characters and Twilight universe are Stephenie Meyer's. I'm just having fun...

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Edward stared glumly at a big old-looking oil painting on Dr Marcus's wall, trying to figure out what it was about. Seventeenth century-looking people draped about balconies - maybe people at the opera? Probably the doc liked opera, being Italian. That would be a good ploy to distract him from the personal stuff. Edward knew about arty shit like opera and could yammer on about it for hours if need be.

He had already endured an unpleasant joint assessment session with his parents last week and now Esme was waiting outside in the car, having driven him to his first one-on-one therapy appointment.

The shrink had been going on for a while now about the ground-rules, how therapy was supposed to help him and the importance of frankness and openness during sessions. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. Avoiding eye-contact, Edward folded his arms, slid further down in the La-Z-Boy chair and stretched his long legs out, kicking his sneaker toe sullenly against the corner of a large antique desk. The chair rotated a little. Cool. He swung slightly away from the doc.

"And please call me Aro, Edward." Weird name, but then he was foreign. He looked sort of weird too, with pale skin, very dark penetrating eyes and long black hair in a pony-tail. Edward idly wondered how old he was but it was hard to tell.

"Sure Dr Marcus, I mean Aro." Edward was outwardly all politeness but secretly determined to be as annoying as possible. Time to go on the offensive.

"So how does this work - where's your couch? Do I tell you my dreams or look at ink blots?" I could spout endless crap about that.

"I don't use a couch Edward. And you can talk about anything you like."

Ain't gonna happen Dr Dickface.

Aro eyed him calmly, hands steepled in front of him. He was in a La-Z-boy chair too. Edward was tempted to spin his around like a top but suppressed the urge to act like a complete brat.

"I don't really have anything I want to talk about…Aro." Not with you anyway, cocksucker.

"You don't want to talk about what's happened?"

Bastard, twisting my words. "Not really. It's private."

"Perhaps you're afraid that I'll judge you Edward?"

"Hey, feel free, everybody else is." Including me.

"Well, I only want to help. I'm not here to judge you. But it might help to talk about it all."

And it might not. Throw him a bone to shut him up. "it's just the usual boyfriend-girlfriend teenage stuff. No biggie."

"The usual stuff?" Aro was looking sceptical. "Does the usual stuff generally involve bondage kits?"

Here we go. "That was…a mistake."

"A mistake." Aro had an inscrutable look on his face. "Are you interested in bondage then Edward?"

Christ, straight for the jugular. He flushed. "No not really, it was just…necessary…"

"Not really? You're a little interested in it?"

Careful. Normalise, damage control. "Well most people probably are, aren't they? You know, wanting to be in control or give up control…"

"Which do you prefer?"

Edward squirmed in his chair and twirled it away at 90 degrees from Aro, then kicked himself back.

"Shit I don't know. Both, neither. Look, I'm not a fetishist really. It was all a mistake. Bella was just getting…out of control…" Damn. Shouldn't have mentioned her.

"Out of control sexually?"

Fucking mind reading cocksucker. It was worse than being at the dentist's. "It wasn't her fault. It was my fault."

"Your fault she was out of control?"

Edward gritted his teeth. OK you non-judgemental bastard, see what you make of this. "It was the poetry."

"Poetry?" Aro looked genuinely puzzled now. "You wrote her poetry? That's quite normal you know Edward. Especially for adolescents."

Well duh. "Yeah. But she reacts to it in a weird way. She gets very turned on."

"And that was a problem?"

"Well her kind of raping me after reading my poem was a tiny problem, yes. She sort of attacked me."

"She attacked you. And this distressed you?"

Not precisely but I'm fucked if I'm giving you a blow by blow account. Buy your own porn. "Well, no. But we both got…carried away. It's like she got hooked on my poetry. And I'm hooked on her, so I kept writing more."

"So the bondage restraints were to…stop her getting carried away?"

Finally someone gets it. "Right. I just tied her up with T-shirts at the time, but it was hard to get the knots undone."

"T-shirts…I see…" Aro regarded him thoughtfully.

What? He'd been a good little patient hadn't he? He'd spilled the beans?

"And did she want you to restrain her?"

"Yeah, she suggested it. She really wanted to hear my poem."

"And this was an…erotic poem?"

More squirming and twirling. "Uh-huh." Edward glared at the opera painting again, embarrassed.

You're in cloud fucking cuckoo land if you think I'm going to tell you what was in it though.

"That painting looks really old." He pointed at the opera one, desperate for a diversion from Aro's basilisk gaze.

"Yes, it's a family heirloom. I wonder why you mentioned it?"

"I love opera - and music and art generally. I play the piano myself." Edward realised he sounded totally up himself but he had to divert Aro off the fucking poem.

"You like the arts and music?"

Edward took that as an invitation to rave on for quite some time about music he enjoyed, operas he'd seen, the classics he'd read and his CD collection. Finally he ran out of steam.

Aro smiled kindly. Patronising prick. "You seem very interested in music and literature Edward. I wonder if this new relationship, this new sexual relationship, has been a bit of a challenge for you? In terms of how you see yourself as a person?"

What was he on about now? "No not really. Bella was into similar things."

Like sucking my cock and being fucked until she was incoherent. Damn - big mistake to let those thoughts slip through. He started getting hard and had to call up frantic cockblocking images. Borat and his fat manager wrestling nude in the hotel room. Hillary Clinton. Although Hillary Clinton in black leather with a whip might be…fuck no, stop it! Borat! Borat!

"I just ask, as your parents seemed concerned that you might be a little…sexually confused."

Edward stared sullenly at Aro, refusing to play that game.

"They seemed concerned about your sexual orientation Edward."

Name rank and serial number dickhead. That's all you're getting.

"I know this can be difficult to talk about Edward, but it could be important. Do you see yourself as predominantly heterosexual? It's OK if you've had other fantasies or feelings. This is a safe place to discuss them."

Safe? It was a safe as necking with a thirsty vampire. As safe as rollerblading on the edge of the Grand Canyon. Safe?

"Look, I'm here because I was trying to see my girlfriend, right? Note the word girl in that sentence."

"Mmmm. But you have to admit it hasn't been the most straightforward of relationships Edward. And your parents said you hadn't dated anyone else before Bella."

"So? I'm a late fucking developer I guess. This is crap: I'm not gay."

"Sometimes young men like yourself can be in denial about their orientation and…overcompensate. Your fantasies about bondage could be a deep-seated wish to take on the female role in a relationship…"

OK, gloves coming off now. "Look Aro, Karl Popper said that psychoanalysis was inherently unscientific because therapists like you can just ignore the facts and say patients like me are 'repressing' being gay. And there's no way we can ever prove you wrong - if we don't act gay we're in denial. So you can take that theory and shove it…" He'd almost said "up your ass" but Christ knew what Dr. Shitforbrains would make of that.

A discrete chime from Aro's desk clock saved him from further harassment. Session over and not before freaking time.

Esme was clearly dying to quiz him in the car as they drove home, but she just said "Did it go OK?"

Edward grunted noncommittally - he needed her to think he was co-operating. Fuck. How was he going to stand weeks of this shit?

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Therapy certainly didn't help him to stop obsessing about Bella. He still saw her at school from a distance, she still avoided him. Although once or twice he thought he almost caught her looking at him, but he couldn't be sure. He still dreamed of winning her over and getting her to trust him again.

And there were other less romantic dreams, fuelled by their brief, intense relationship. He lost count of how many times he'd sucked her breasts or made her come in his mouth while she screamed his name. Or how often he'd taken her from behind, her lovely pale ass bent over any convenient object. He wasn't fussy - he'd had her over his couch, his bed, the desks at school, her bed, the sofa in her living room, over fallen trees in the woods, across the hood of the Volvo... How do I fuck thee? Let me count the ways…

Alice saw more of her than he did. A lot more. She'd befriended Bella after he'd gotten her to drive the truck home and now she was always going round to Bella's place to study or hang out together. He saw them chatting and laughing together as they walked between classes, neither of them giving him the time of day. Bella looked happier now and his heart sank to see it. He knew that was shitty and selfish but he couldn't help it. She'd gotten over him, she no longer cared and it hurt like hell. He knew he must look like a sad loser always watching her with puppy-dog eyes, but he couldn't resist. He wanted Bella and no-one else and if all he could have was watching her from a distance, he'd take that. He was her satellite, orbiting out in the dark cold reaches of her solar system. Giving her fucking space.

Edward wasn't entirely a reformed character. He still brooded about how to manage the poetry effect if he ever managed to get Bella to take him back. Other people's poems, but which ones? Love poetry, obviously, but it needed to be poems she would know, or written in an old-fashioned style. If he used some obscure modern poet she might assume he'd written the lines himself and go feral on him again. He collected several, just in case - Browning, Donne, Shakespeare, several favourites.

Marvell was appropriate he thought bleakly:

Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life.

Or the classic:

O western wind, when wilt thou blow
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!

That one worked especially well in Forks' appalling climate.

Then there were song lyrics - a rich motherlode of material and he'd already proved that they worked as well as poems. Hmmm. Probably not "Rape Me" by Nirvana or "Break My Body" by The Pixies. Or "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails for that matter. He had to stop listening to that one, it made him too depressed. "Sunshine" by Keane was sadly appropriate. Girls liked "Chasing Cars" of course, and "You're So Damn Hot" by OK Go would set the right mood. Hell, he could even see himself singing "Love Will Keep Us Together" to her and hamming it up, on his brighter days. It was hard to keep hoping but he had to try.

For some weeks he avoided writing his own poetry again - it seemed best not to tempt fate. But after a session with Aro about his relationship with Bella he decided that it could be an enhancement not an addiction. Maybe he'd had the wrong attitude and panicked unnecessarily. He decided to branch out into other types of short poetry like haiku (best to keep the snippets short, he wasn't sure she'd ever give him a chance to get through a longer poem).

Your soft touch
On my cold body
Winter ends

Hmmm. Maybe that was a bit short - could be frustrating. The 5-7-5 form might be better.

In the spring meadow
Crushing you hard against me
Making you all mine

If only. He decided not to mention that he was writing again to Aro. They were still engaged in an intermittent battle of wills, but at least he was someone to talk to and sometimes Aro made sense. Not that Edward would ever let him know.

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He managed to persuade Esme to let him drive himself to Port Angeles for therapy after the first couple of weeks. It let him poke about the town and explore obscure bookshops or the library.

One day he happened on a book called "Doing the Juicy". It was filled with erotic poems by some up and coming Seattle poet called James Laurence. He flicked through, noting the dust jacket bio which seemed proud to advertise the poet as a "controversial ladies' man". The photo showed a young man with a 5 o'clock shadow whose "bedroom eyes" smouldered off the page. Slimeball. The poems were extremely explicit and his cock twitched as he read a few. They made him worry about all the temptations out there that Bella might encounter. Would she transfer the poetry fixation to someone else if he never won her back? The thought made him ache deep inside.

Another week in the dark corner of a used bookstore he found a scruffy old book called "One Hundred Basic Knots", probably some sort of Boy Scout required reading. Only three dollars so he decided to buy it. His T-shirt knots had left a lot to be desired, the way they tightened up on Bella's wrists and ankles.

For a moment he leaned helplessly against the bookstore's musty stacks, feeling her cunt suck him into her again, feeling himself pump helplessly into her hot, wet flesh. He shut his eyes and groaned softly, his cock on fire and straining painfully against his jeans. Edward eased his crotch, his hand lingering on himself. No, he wasn't so far gone as to be jerking off in the recesses of a used bookstore. He pulled himself together.

Best to learn a bit more about the knots though, just in case…especially as the bondage kit had been confiscated. For a brief bizarre moment Edward wondered if Carlisle and Esme had made any use of it. He squashed that errant thought smartly. Too disturbing.

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The next week Edward was leaving the Port Angeles library when he noticed a flyer on the noticeboard.

Poetry Evening
listen to acclaimed local poet James Laurence read his work
Saturday 6pm
The Veela Cafe

That was the womanising bastard whose book he'd picked up the other week. Christ - he had some front reading those poems aloud to an audience. Probably have his pick of the women attending to take home afterwards though, once he'd gotten them in the mood. Edward was faintly envious.

He used the drive home to think seriously about his situation. He'd given Bella a lot of "space" now. Maybe it wasn't the right way to handle things any more? Maybe he needed to make a move, to woo her again? Talking with Aro had made him less crazy about the situation and he thought he could handle how he felt better and not go completely off the deep end this time. He decided to talk to Alice.

She was in her room laying out cut-out pieces of material to be sewn into a new blouse. At first she was brusque with him, mumbling "go way Evwd" round a mouthful of pins, but he persuaded her to spit them out and talk to him. He'd never really told her the whole story so he decided to be completely honest. It all tumbled out - the Valentine's card, Bella's reaction to poetry, why they'd used the restraints, his desperation to make amends and be with her again, even the tree disaster. He felt exhausted once he'd blurted it all out. Sitting on her bed with his head in his hands, dangerously close to tears.

Alice came to sit beside him, her small arm as far as it would reach around his waist, her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and hugged her to him, slightly comforted.

"Christ what a mess." She sighed. "OK, I hate to break a promise but you're my brother and this needs to get sorted out so I'm going to tell you what's going on with her. Look Edward - Bella's still in love with you and she misses you, but she was frightened. She's afraid you'll let her down again. Plus you've been on lockdown so no contact's been possible and she didn't want to tease you. But are you sure you can be sensible about her now - I mean you haven't been especially mature in how you've handled all this stuff, have you?"

"She still loves me?" His heart leapt in his chest. She loves me, Bella loves me!

"Hold it there cowboy, don't go charging off into the sunset half-cocked." Alice chewed her lip, thinking hard. "OK, here's what we'll do. Carlisle and Esme can probably be talked round to ease up on the grounding, since you've been toeing the line for the last few weeks. No - let me talk to them first. Maybe they could call your therapist too, would he support you?"

"Yeah, we get on better now. I think he'd be fine."

"Charlie's the problem. It'll take a concerted effort to get him to come round. And you need Bella to be on your side again for that - she's the main one he'll listen to in the end. So you need to talk with her and get this shit straightened out first."

She snapped her fingers. "I know. We'll get you ungrounded then you can come to this thing we're going to on Saturday in Port Angeles. You can go separately and meet up with her "by accident" and have a proper talk. Maybe you could drive her home or something? I'll get her set up for it and put in a good word for you."

Edward was excited. At last! "OK, great. So what is it - are you going to a movie?"

"No it's some poetry reading Bella heard about - she wanted to go to it. Some Seattle poet. Supposed to be a hottie." She winked.

"Shit. James Laurence?"

"Yes, that sounds right. Why - do you know his stuff?"

"I saw a book of his work in a store at Port Angeles. And a flyer. It's pretty hard core stuff Alice. I'm worried about exposing Bella to it, I mean, with her reaction to poetry…" Plus he's a womanising slimeball.

"Whoa there. You can't be going all possessive on her now Edward. That's exactly the sort of thing that'll put her off. So don't try to boss her around or say what she can or can't do. And I thought this poetry thing was just to your stuff anyway?"

"Well yes, mostly, but she gets a slight reaction to other poems, and it's just that his stuff is…well it's …extreme. And I don't like the sound of him. He's got a bad rep with women apparently."

"Oh calm down - she'll be fine. She'll be with me. Stop over-reacting again and get a grip."

So the game was on and he tried not to think about Bella listening to James mouth sleazy verse, not to let red coils of jealousy spoil the joy of knowing that she still loved him.

My heart sings
Flying skylark high
You love me

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End Notes:
Dramarama next chapter with the reprehensible James...and how will Bella react to our hero? The plot thickens...Reviews please!