Let the Rain Come Down

Just a note to say that I am not a counsellor, nor have I spoken to one, professionally or otherwise.

Disclaimer: All characters owned and created by Stephenie Meyer.

This chapter is unbeta'ed – any errors are mine and I apologise in advance.

~o.O.o~

Chapter 15

Jasper's POV

Lying awake in the darkness, I wished I could conjure a light to chase away the shadows. I wasn't entirely sure if they were in the room with me or squatting in the darkest corners of my bleary mind.

My throat ached. Sliding out of bed, I braved the dark and filled a glass with water, swallowing it in painful gulps before skittering back to the safety of the bed and a peaceful, sleeping Edward. I slid under the blankets, seeking his warmth and proximity. I buried my face in his chest, feeling him shift in sleep, an arm sliding over to enfold me. I closed my eyes and tried to forget.

~o.O.o~

Light slunk, apologetic and frail, through the window, adding to the malaise that gripped me tightly. I lifted my head, hearing Edward snuffle, his eyes cracking open. He smiled and my world brightened.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, relieved that night was over. I needed his company more than I ever had before. Morning's arrival had chased away my fear, but I felt the danger that lurked in every dark corner out of reach of the sun's cleansing rays.

"Are you lying?" He raised his eyebrows, not buying it for a moment.

I huffed in defeat.

"All this time, all those bad dreams, yet you never once asked to sleep with the light on. Not once." I shook my head. "My mind was in overdrive all night, thinking I saw shadows. I'm not used to feeling so jumpy. So… freaked." I half laughed, the sound hollow.

His arms reached for me, pulling me into his chest so he could cradle me close, my head nestled under his chin. He tugged off my beanie, freeing my curls.

"I didn't need a nightlight once I had you. You keep me safe from the monsters." He flexed his fingers. "Well, almost."

"How's your hand?"

"Aches a bit."

I took his hand and kissed his knuckles, lacing my fingers with his. "They're bruised. You probably dented the wall."

I could feel his smile against my hair. "Don't tell the landlord."

I grinned.

"He doesn't even know about you, so I don't plan on mentioning the wall. It's so dark in here that he wouldn't notice anyway, not without walking right up to it. Besides, if we put a frame around it, we could call it art."

He laughed and I followed suit until my stomach muscles screamed, killing the moment. Edward's arms cradled me to him, his heat seeping into my aching body. I felt safe and protected, his hand stroking my back.

"Relax. It's time for me to return the favour and keep you safe now."

I felt his lips press against the top of my head.

Return the favour? He'd nursed me tirelessly for weeks. I could've died without him.

My hand burrowed up under his shirt, needing to feel his skin, to make that visceral contact. He felt like home and holding him skin to skin grounded me.

"I should make breakfast, get you a drink to take your meds." He sounded breathless and distracted, his fingers playing with my hair. I snuggled closer still.

"Not yet. Stay here with me?" I tried not to sound needy but, truth was, my body felt more relaxed than it had all night long. He didn't argue, simply tugging the blankets around us to keep out the draught. I drifted into a dreamless sleep, feeling the reassurance of his thudding heart.

I slept for a couple of hours, feeling guilty when I woke for holding Edward hostage when he probably needed the bathroom. Seeing his smile, feeling the gentle caress of his fingers across the back of my neck, I felt mentally stronger. I shifted myself away from him and he slid across the mattress to scuttle out to the bathroom. I wrapped myself in the warm blanket and got up to fill the kettle before realising I couldn't lift it without the risk of dropping it on the floor. Edward returned and gave me a chastising look, filling it for me.

"Bathroom then back to bed for you. You won't heal if you overexert yourself. Emmett told you to rest so do as you're told. Okay?" He tried to sound stern, but he just sounded worried.

My mouth quirked in a half-smile and I turned towards the icebox, the blanket flapping around my shoulders.

When I returned, Edward had made coffee and cereal. He looked at the bed and I took the hint. I climbed back into the warm sheets and took the bowl of cereal he held, eating a couple of mouthfuls before he handed me my pills and coffee, holding the bowl for me. When I was done, he grabbed my book from the floor and joined me back in the one place we were safe.

I lay back against him and listened while he read to me.

For that one day, no one could hurt us.

~o.O.o~

Edward left for his shift at the market, and I tried to get comfortable on my own. Arranging pillows meant twisting around, something that I regretted in an instant. Taking slow breaths to control the pain, I bunched up the covers and pulled them up to my chin. Tomorrow was lunch day at the kitchen and I wondered if I should go. It was fortunate that so far my shifts were on the same days each week and hadn't impacted on our weekly meals. It would be rough if I had to miss one now because of this. We weren't in the clear financially, not by a long stretch; every cent mattered. I just had a feeling that Esme would see straight through me, what with how slow and careful I was being when I moved, the marks on my neck and my husky voice. She would know that something was wrong and I didn't want to worry her.

I should go, keep my scarf on and act normal. Eat and keep my strength up.

Edward would deflect any questions with his beautiful smile. Talking about what happened to me would only make it harder for him to keep his own ordeal from her. He had nervous tells when he tried to hide something and I didn't know if Esme had worked them out. I wasn't going to risk that.

Mind made up, my fingers slid along the blanket until they found my book. I found myself hearing Edward's voice while I read. I liked that.

~o.O.o~

Emmett was satisfied I was in good enough shape to return to work. I'd missed two shifts that week and, having had the weekend tacked on, I was feeling stronger.

My stomach was improving and so long as I didn't try and lift anything heavy, I could hide it from onlookers. The fingertip bruises on my throat stood out, livid against the stark canvas of my skin. There was going to be no way of hiding them without my scarf.

I looked around to find Edward rummaging through our clean clothes.

"Try this green shirt, Jas. It comes up a little higher at the neck. Your hair will hide a bit too. Perhaps they'll think they're hickeys?" He tilted his head, a shy smile curving his cheeks.

I loved his endless optimism.

As it turned out, it took all of five minutes for my hopes to be dashed. Hanging up my jacket, I heard Ashleigh's sharp inhale. When I looked at her, she blushed.

"Sorry, Jasper. I didn't mean to stare. It's just… no, I don't want to know. It's none of my business. Sorry." She turned away, then back again, anxious. "Emmett said he changed your shifts - you're only to have mornings. Is everything okay? He doesn't usually do that. We swap the occasional shift if need be, but…"

Elise walked in and threw her a sharp look.

"Let's not hold Jasper up, Ashleigh. He doesn't want to be late."

When it was just the two of us, she paused before speaking, a steel edge to her voice.

"I understand there was an incident of some kind outside after closing. Emmett has informed me he's switching your shifts to mornings only for a while so as not to cause you additional stress. While I sympathise, this is most unconventional and some staff may not be happy about the extra afternoons they've been allocated. I trust these changes will be short term?"

I swallowed hard and nodded, seeing her glance at my throat, her lips thinning a fraction.

"Yes, Elise. Thank you."

Oh boy. It was going to be a long shift.

I avoided eye contact and small talk with everyone that morning, thankful I wasn't on the register. I kept moving, minimising lifting by transferring stock item by item, rail to rail. It was slow, but I worked without stopping, refusing to allow anyone to accuse me of slacking off.

By the time my shift was over I ached so bad I just wanted to wrap my arms around myself and rock. I made my way to the empty break room and checking no one else was coming, I allowed myself a moment of weakness, leaning against the wall, the last of my reserves ebbing away. Pushing myself back to my feet, I reached a tentative hand for my coat, wincing with the effort it took to shrug it on. My sleeve snagged a plastic display stand on the counter which collapsed with a loud clatter, leaflets skidding across the Formica surface. With a groan, I gathered them into a heap, glancing at the top one.

I stilled.

It gave details of a free walk-in counselling centre, not too far from here.

Thanks, Emmett.

Looking over my shoulder, I folded the leaflet, stowing it in my pocket before heading home.

~o.O.o~

"What do you think? Should we go?"

Edward was silent, reading the leaflet. He looked up when he was done, his shaky voice betraying his anxiety.

"Would I have to go in on my own? I don't know if I can talk to a stranger."

"I'll be there if it's allowed. We'll see how we feel about it when we get there. I think it might be good for us, but if we don't like the counsellor we'll leave."

His throat bobbed. "Promise?" He looked to me for reassurance, and I nodded.

"I swear. You feel uncomfortable - we walk. I think it'd do us good to get some help, you know? Free ourselves from the demons of our pasts." My fingers twisted, my own anxiety leaking out. "But, Edward…" I shook my head. "Edward, you don't have to. You know that, right? You don't have to. Me… I think I need to. I never thought something could make me feel so helpless, so afraid. I thought I was strong. So stupid."

My head drooped, tiredness from the day engulfing me. I felt Edward's arms slide around me and, exhausted, I let myself fall into them, succumbing to the sleep my body craved.

~o.O.o~

We walked together to the appointment, both nervous and unsure. We had discussed it at length, wondering if talking to a professional could help us with our traumas. We had been completely honest with each other, and I hoped that Edward could consign his nightmares to the past after 'defending' me in his sleep.

The counsellor was a serious-faced woman, and I worried that Edward would clam up in the face of her stark demeanour. Her voice, however, was soft. She wanted to talk to us individually first and then as a couple. We agreed and Edward went first, looking back at me as the door closed. I fidgeted, both with impatience and trepidation, wondering how he was faring, fighting every protective urge I had to not barge in there to be with him.

The clock ticked. I studied my hands, the carpet, the ficus in the corner of the waiting room. I could feel the receptionist's eyes watching my every move although when I glanced over she was focused on her computer screen, her fingers tapping at the keyboard. I poured a cup of water from the cooler and sipped it for something to do.

When the door finally reopened, Edward appeared, very pale and a little shaky, but holding his head up. I met his eyes and mouthed 'Okay?'

He nodded, silent. Then it was my turn. With leaden feet, I made my way to the chair and sat, feeling exposed and horribly vulnerable.

The counsellor asked her questions and I answered honestly. She focused heavily on my relationship with Edward, asking if I believed I had some control over Edward, that he was emotionally reliant on me. I told her how he had supported me when I was sick, how he had found work to pay the rent when I couldn't. I choked back tears when she asked if I felt I was holding Edward back, stopping him from becoming more than he was. All I could honestly say was that he was free to leave if that was what he wanted to do. His life was his own.

What I didn't say was that it would shatter my heart.

She took notes when I talked, leaving quiet pauses that I struggled not to fill. The fact that we were engaged to be married at such a young age seemed to flag that we were perhaps too heavily invested in each other for our happiness and security, which could be seen as unhealthy. I tried to understand her probing line of questioning, knowing it was for my own good, to help winkle out the very things that haunted me, but towards the end of the session I was feeling more than a little sick and I wondered if she had taken this tack with Edward.

For my part, I explained how I escaped being molested after essentially being kidnapped by a group of men in a motel room. I needed to get it out of my head having never been able to tell a soul until Edward. I was vague about the fact I was a hustler, explaining only that I had been homeless and broke and grown men took advantage of my desperation. I couldn't deny in my own mind that in the beginning, it felt like I was being paid so men could abuse me. It took longer for me to take control and do those things on my terms. Same result, but with a stronger, more resilient mindset.

Lastly, I told her about being attacked only a few days prior, and how helpless that had made me feel, how I was struggling to sleep, fearful of being alone in the dark. She asked me if I felt I deserved to be attacked, that I had courted it in some way. Did I now feel 'equal' to Edward by having also undergone something so traumatic? I knew my face must've registered shock and anger at that. I held myself in check and told her that what Edward had suffered was so much worse, that I had gotten away lightly in comparison. My ordeal would leave no scars, no permanent damage other than sleepless nights, whereas he could suffer psychological wounds for the rest of his life.

She watched me for a long moment, writing more in her notebook before nodding in apparent satisfaction.

With that, she walked to the door and called Edward back into the room.

I saw his pinched face relax a fraction when our eyes met, taking the seat next to me and unashamedly taking my hand, squeezing it. It seemed to me that Edward grew stronger and more confident with my hand in his. It transpired that there were things Edward hadn't been comfortable talking about alone, and so the counsellor asked him again once we were seated together.

He surprised me with a confession that seemed so obvious once I heard it that I couldn't understand why it hadn't occurred to me before. After all, I'd known he was innocent before the attack. He told her that the thought of touching himself felt wrong, that he liked it to be something he only did with me. I knew admitting it was difficult because, looking down, I saw the white of his knuckles, his empty hand fisted under the desk. What with the guilt that had been heaped upon him around sex in his upbringing and then the resulting trauma of the rape, he didn't feel sexual urges when alone. His mind and body simply didn't understand that such a thing was possible, commonplace.

Every word was uttered in a low voice, his eyes closed, a fight between his conscience and his rational mind. I was so proud of him for finding the words, for letting light in on such a dark, cloistered part of himself. In time I hoped he would learn to accept himself just as he was because he was enough.

~o.O.o~

That night, Edward got frustrated with himself.

"Why can't I just do it? Why can't I just let it all go and just have sex like a normal person? I'm just so…so…damaged, and I hate it. I really, really hate being like this." He slammed his fists onto the mattress, then wiped his eyes with an angry motion. "I can't live my life being broken. I can't expect you to always fix me. I want us to move forward, to have a proper adult relationship. You deserve a partner who isn't afraid."

He turned to face me.

"If I asked you right now to have sex with me, would you do it?"

I was horrified but tried to hide it.

"No, I wouldn't." He recoiled, stung by rejection, my words hurting him more than I ever meant to.

"You don't want me."

My head reeled.

"Sweetheart, no, that's not it. That's really not it." My fingers locked in my hair. "Sex can be so incredibly intimate with the right person. It isn't something you just get out of the way. It could hurt you physically and mentally if you weren't ready, and I can't do that. I can't hurt you, not after everything that's happened to both of us. Please don't ask me to."

"But you do want to? Some day? You do… want me?"

Oh, Edward, you know I do.

"Very much. If and when that day comes, it will be because we both feel ready. Not before."

"But you're ready? Now?"

I shook my head. "I don't think I am. Making love is so different to the meaningless sex I'm used to. I know the mechanics, but I'll need to get my head around it every bit as much as you when the time comes. But I do know that we'll be equal partners. It'll be a proper first time for both of us with a loving partner and that's how it should be."

"You're scared too?" His voice was so small and he was too far away from me.

"Really scared. We've still got a way to go, but we've come a long way already."

He shuffled closer, back into the comfort of my arms.

"I want…I want you to see me…I mean, next time we…" He squeezed his eyes shut, a sure sign he was struggling.

I sucked in a breath. This was a big step for him. My fingers drifted down his jawline.

"If you're ready to show me. And if you're not, that's okay too. There's no rules and no time limits."

His fingers played with my shirt, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"I want to be ready. I want to be able to touch you and not feel like it's shameful."

My fingers toyed with his hair, knowing that the motion soothed him. I felt low.

"Those people who brought you up really would've hated me, wouldn't they? I would've been the enemy to them. The dirty boy who sold his body to men."

His wet eyes were luminous.

"Then they would've been wrong. They have no idea what it's like to be desperate. They close their eyes to people eating out of dumpsters and trash cans because they want to. I swear they think it's some weird personal choice."

I held him tighter. His voice wobbled like a child's, lost and frightened.

"When I left, they just wished me luck and closed the door, leaving me standing there with a few dollars in my pocket and a change of clothes in a bag. There was another kid in my bed that night. I remember walking around, looking for any 'help wanted' signs. I thought I'd find something quickly so I could rent a room. I didn't though. My money didn't last long and then everything went downhill really fast."

I just held him, letting him purge. The session today had shaken a lot of memories loose for both of us.

"When I met you, I'd been on my own for about five months. I don't remember the exact date when I left. I didn't know where to go or what to do. People ignored me because I was dirty, so I started to hide away during the main part of the day. That way I didn't have to see the looks on their faces or the way they avoided me. I remember I hadn't spoken to anyone for some time when I met you. It felt weird to hear my voice again. I'd forgotten that until today."

I smiled.

"I remember. Your voice was almost rusty. I could hardly get two words out of you. I understand it though. Self-preservation is a powerful force and rightly so."

He went quiet and I just waited. Then he spoke, tentative and unsure.

"Did the counsellor ask you about your work?"

I sighed. "She did. I tried not to outright say it. I told her about when I was younger, and the guys at the motel. Whether she thought I was just a naïve kid, I don't know. She was concerned about us though."

His head whipped round to look at me, pulling away.

"Why? What's wrong with us?"

He looked bewildered and I despised myself for causing him pain.

"She thought that our histories made us co-dependent. That our relationship might be emotionally destructive. She was concerned that by being with me you were supporting my dangerous lifestyle despite the emotional detriment to you. I have to admit that, when she said that, the thought of me having been a negative influence on you made me feel horrible."

Edward's face dropped, his trembling fingers plucking at the blanket.

"What do you mean? She thinks we hurt each other? That we shouldn't be together?" His voice cracked. He wouldn't look at me and in that moment I needed him to. "Is it wrong that I love you?"

My eyes burned. How could loving him ever be wrong?

"She suggested that maybe you became attached to me because you saw me as your rescuer, or possibly that we cling to each other because we're no good alone, that we can't function apart. I know in my heart that neither is true. We each lived alone through the worst part of our lives. We made each other better." I shook my head. "No. We make each other better. We encourage and support each other. I rescued you, but you rescued me in return, from a hopeless, loveless life with no future."

I struggled over what I needed to say, the words hurting my throat. "I want you to know that I'd never hold you back in any way. I don't own you. I'd let you go if I thought that was what you wanted."

His head shot up, brow furrowed in a shocking flash of anger.

"Let me go?"

I caught my breath in surprise, desperate to make him understand.

"If you ever wanted me too, yeah. You have to know that I'd never try and make you stay if you wanted out. I love you too much."

He slumped, his fire doused in a second. I leant in, my voice low. Cupping his face, I felt the heat of his flushed cheek against my hand. I relaxed when he didn't pull away.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. She said that after having met both of us that she could see that wasn't the case. We have our own lives, our own independence. I explained how you took charge of the bills and the groceries while I couldn't. How we were a team. I told her the reason you worked so hard was because I couldn't work when I was sick, but now I was working a new job." I half smiled. "She asked if we'd be working together. I said no – we'd be a bus ride apart at least. That seemed to be the right answer. She didn't mention it again anyway."

He met my gaze, but I saw anxiety and confusion clouding his face.

"I don't understand how anyone could think that caring for you was unhealthy. That's what partners do, isn't it? Look after one another? In sickness and in health?"

"Ideally, yeah. I guess our shared histories of abuse raised a red flag initially, but the fact that we strive to better ourselves, to support each other to make our lives better seemed to satisfy her." I paused. "She asked me about our sex life. I know you didn't want to talk about that. What did she ask you?"

His fingers twisted the blanket into fierce knots, his face reddening, embarrassed and awkward.

"I didn't want to talk about it without you. I just told her that we were taking things really slow. Is that why she asked? To see if you were… were forcing yourself on me? If maybe you were using what happened to me as…as… some sort of leverage to get me to agree?"

My stomach lurched at the thought. I'd throw myself under the 'L' before I ever put pressure on him. If when it came down to it he never wanted to experience full intimacy with me then I would accept it without question. He'd earned that right.

"Maybe. I don't know." I reached out and he shuffled across the bed into my embrace. "But what I do know is that I want to be with you for a long time and I won't do anything that jeopardises that. No coercion. No agenda. Not ever."

He snuggled into my arms, getting as close as he could. Tilting his head, he touched his lips to mine in a kiss that made my heart skip.

"I love you, Jasper. No one can ever take that away from me."

"Let 'em try." I kissed him back in a grand, defiant gesture, basking in his happy smile.

After today, we were most assuredly on the same page and stronger than ever.

~o.O.o~