Author: DPD

Rating: M for language and guy-on-guy action.

Pairings: Edward/Jasper

Disclaimer: SM owns it all, but my pervy mind and thoughts.

Summary: This is a sad, dark, yet beautiful story about Edward, who came to my offices to discuss his past. He had lost his partner. My heart grieved for his loss, until his dark secret was revealed to me. Contains hardcore kink, fetishes, scat play and golden showers.

WARNING: not for the faint hearted.

A/N: This is a slash story. If you are not into man on man sex, walk away. If you are under 18, walk away. There are kinky disturbing images including paraphilia like coprophilia and urolagnia. If you have a weak stomach, walk away. There are plenty of other stories for you to read.

I want to thank my three musketeers Athos, Porthos and Aramis (you guys know who you are!) for helping me make this fic almost pleasant for you guys to read, and for convincing me to post it.


Chapter 1

I have been a psychiatrist for a few years now, and that coupled with being a young, gay man brought me a lot of work. People tended to look for sympathizers to their issues and pains, and being gay was the right combination for many.

While in medical school, the perversions of the human mind always caught my attention. We studied cases in which the mind played a huge part in disease and trauma; like a mother who was depressed and losing control of her own actions, poured hot water on her crying kid; or like a young man who tried to commit suicide, driven by the fear of being a schizophrenic like his dad; or even thousands of cases of cancer and other degenerative diseases could also be linked to the troubles of the soul, or in my field; the mind.

Healing the body seemed to be useless in many cases. Disease seemed to come back in the same or different forms. The mind was the main source of the patients' troubles, so choosing psychiatry was kind of natural to me.

I found their stories fascinating. I liked making people feel better and more comfortable with their reality. Most people only needed someone who they could trust to open their hearts and let out whatever it was that may be festering inside, making them feel unworthy, useless, small and sick.

Some ended up developing real pathologies and losing their minds, needing to be medicated. Some were born this way or inherited those mental conditions. Others would get lost inside themselves, closing up to the real world.

That was his case.


While being a student in medical school, I had the pleasure of working with Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He was a surgeon and worked at the University Hospital. Being an excellent teacher, he was one of my favourite professors, but he questioned my option for Psychiatry, hoping I would change my mind and choose surgery instead.

That never happened.

Being a huge admirer of Dr. Cullen, both as a doctor and a man, I invited him to my graduation ceremony, and he was the one to hand in my diploma. My parents were very proud and couldn't believe their only son had just become a doctor. I was the first member of my family to have a university degree.

During the after-ceremony cocktails, which took place in the gardens of the University—same as the ceremony had been—the sun was almost setting in the horizon, making it a mix of the most incredible shades of pink and orange. I was standing under a tree, sipping my drink and observing the crowd; mom and dad had already gone to the hotel to get ready for dinner. I was surprised when I noticed Dr. Cullen walking towards me accompanied by the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. He was tall, strongly built, had pale skin and copper hair. His eyes were a deep, beautiful emerald green and made my heart skip a beat. I just stood there in awe, watching them approaching me. As soon as they did, Dr. Cullen introduced the vision before me as son.

"Congratulations on your graduation again, Doctor Hale! This is my son, Edward." Edward offered me his hand to shake. As we were connected like that, I saw another man jogging in our direction, quickly closing the distance between us. He was also beautiful! Long, dirty blond hair tied back in a neat pony tail. Blue eyes, tanned skin that shone against the white crisp shirt, collar open, no tie. Stopping by Edward's side, he circled his arm around Edward's waist, claiming his man. "And this is James, my son-in-law," Carlisle completed. I shook hands with him, introducing myself, while my heart deflated from a boulder to a small pebble.

After that, I was unable pay attention to anything else that was said. All I could do was observe Edward and James's interaction. James was all over his guy, while Edward was trying to keep a low profile, at least that's what it looked like. I recall Carlisle mentioning he was in college, too… being a musician or something—Julliard maybe? I really couldn't remember.

The rest of the day passed in a blur – only images remained. Once over, I didn't see them again for a number of years.


I was surprised to see Carlisle in my office one morning. He looked concerned. His usual carefully combed hair was now a mess of blond strands; his blue eyes were paler, sporting dark purple rings beneath them. His forehead was wrinkled in a constant frown, and I could see his belt was buckled two holes tighter. I was curious to know why, after a few years of no contact, he would come to me looking like that. Was something wrong with him? Or maybe his lady?

Striding inside my office, he said hello cordially, looking appreciative at the heavy oak bookshelves, the 18th century paintings I had just bought in an auction hanging on my walls, the fancy Persian rugs I had covering large portions of the floor, and the antique furniture I had bought especially to decorate my office. Among them were my desk and the coffee table across from the black, velvet couch. I was passionate about the past. History was my second favourite subject in school. I also loved to have a nicely decorated, cozy, comfortable environment to treat my patients in.

I invited him to take a seat, and he slid his hand up and down the back of the black velvet-clad sofa before doing so. Running his fingers through his hair, looking strained, he watched me sit in my leather armchair—a gift from my grandmother—across from him.

Sighing, he didn't beat around the bush and introduced the subject that brought him to me straight away, "So, Dr. Hale, Jasper, I came to ask for a favour and see if you can help me. I have heard wonderful things about your work. You have been dealing with many cases known to us, and your success has been impressive. I'm desperate. I believe you remember my son, Edward?" he asked raising his brows at me while leaning forward on his seat. I nodded.

Burying his head in between his hands, he breathed in heavily before continuing, "So…the day you two met, I believe I also introduced you to a young man called James, my son's life partner." I nodded again. Looking at the floor, he went on, "Well…he committed suicide six months ago."

My heart flew to my mouth! For a split second I didn't know if he was talking about James or Edward! I could feel the agitation building up inside of me. I didn't want to sound hasty, but my anxiety levels were reaching off the charts. I tried and managed to hold back a little, but I needed to ask, I needed to know, "I'm sorry, but he who?" My question seemed to have broken his line of thought.

"What?" he fired, shooting his head up, his confusion showing in the way his eyes seemed to be searching mine.

"Who committed suicide?" I tried to fake a calm I most certainly was not sporting at the moment.

"Oh, James. James committed sui- well…I need help with Edward. Since he lost James, he hasn't been himself. I know I'm not supposed to get involved, and that he is a grown-up who needs to look after himself, but…" and then he was silent, maybe feeling guilty or embarrassed for doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

Being a doctor and understanding that Edward needed to deal with things in his own way was one thing, but if he didn't look for any help, when he needed it, was another.

"I understand. You never quit being a father. But you are right, starting therapy has to be his decision." I tried softening the blow.

"We have been talking to him, Esme and I… We have been asking him to find a therapist, and he never gives us an answer. We talk and talk to him but all he does is listen to us, never replying or really discussing anything. I talked about you, and he finally showed some interest. All I'm asking is for you to see him once. He agreed to come if you were willing to see him."

His eyes were hopeful. I didn't want him to give that up, but I had to tell him I could not operate a miracle. Many times, when a patient is coerced to look for therapy, when they don't suffer from any illnesses that could cause any damage to society or to themselves, or are not ready for it, they end up quitting. "That's good. But it's up to him to stay. You know we can't force him, unless he has been thinking—"

"No…" he hastily cut me off mid-sentence. "He would never harm himself or anyone else."

Well, that was a small relief, but as much as I wanted to see Edward again, I had many reservations.


Everything was arranged so Edward could come see me in the evening as my last patient of the day, twice a week.

Our first session was…interesting. Edward arrived in jeans, a pale yellow sweater, his hair an auburn mess, disturbed eyes, overnight stubble, and his scent was pure man. He shook my hand, sat on the sofa and said absolutely nothing for forty-five minutes. He wouldn't look at me or show any attempt to say a single thing. His lips remained sealed the whole time.

God, he was beautiful!

I knew he wasn't doing it to spite me or his parents. He was genuinely unable to speak; I could see it in his eyes, in the way they would dart around as though he was having an internal debate that just didn't reach his mouth.

Never expecting him to come back, I was surprised when he did. Again, he said nothing. But I could feel something was different this time. He was anxious. His body language showed all the signs of a time bomb about to explode, but every time he moved and looked like he was about to speak, he would sigh and say nothing. His hands would fly to his head furiously tugging on his hair, his cheeks flushed.

Third session; Edward was much calmer. He paced around the office, checked some books. Slid his slender fingers along the edges of the bookshelves, looked out the window. His interaction with me was non-existent this session. Even being able to watch his figure for a whole hour, I felt frustrated. The second session had been heavy on intent, and I could feel he was connected to me. This time, he was detached. His body was here in the office with me, but his mind was somewhere else.

I felt hopeless as he edged towards the door at the end of the session. However, just as he was about to exit the door, he said, "'Til next time."

I was stunned... He had never bid me goodnight, or goodbye, or anything before that session. He generally nodded, looking into my eyes as if trying to read my mind, and rushed out the door.
I didn't know what to expect next.

Session after session he would change in demeanour; from withdrawn, to hopeful; to anxious; to depressed; never speaking to me. But he came back every time, so I did my share; I waited until he found it within himself to speak to me.


I lost track of the hours we spent in relative silence, until one day he spoke. "What do you think you can do for me?" he asked, looking outside the window. I got excited, even knowing he could go silent any minute.

I observed his behaviour as I answered, "I can listen to you…" I was honest. That would be the first thing I could do. Without it, my hands were tied.

"Why would you want to do that?", he asked, still looking away, immobile.

"That's my job…"

"Why?" He finally turned, and we made eye contact.

"I find the human mind fascinating." Edward crossed the room and took a seat across from me.

Pursing his lips, I finally could see the beautiful, but tormented man he was. His eyes weren't concealing his soul any longer. He wouldn't look me in the eye for long, but he was showing me he could, maybe, talk.

"There's nothing fascinating about my mind. I'm no genius; I'm not mad; I'm just… not." He sighed.

"What about your heart?" I tilted my head, and shifting on my seat, I tried to show him I was open for conversation too.

"What heart? I haven't got one."

He pursed his lips again, and I could see his eyes glistening; their colour had changed with the addition of the tears. My heart clenched as I observed him glancing around the room aimlessly, making a herculean effort not to let the tear drops run down his flushed cheeks.

I had to struggle and find the strength in me not to cross the distance between us and hold him in my arms. How unprofessional of me. But I managed it.

I was flabbergasted and annoyed he would think that, "I doubt it…" I spat, starting a sentence in anger wouldn't get me far, so I changed my mind to, "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head no, and I lost him. No other word for the rest of the session.

One step forward, two steps back.


The very next day after my last patient walked out, Alice was about to leave when she knocked at my door telling me Edward was there to see me. I was surprised. We didn't have an appointment, but I decided to see him. If he were anyone else, I would have asked Alice to say I was tired and that he should schedule an appointment. But he was Dr. Cullen's son. I would never be able to commit such indelicacy.

He walked into my office with the collar of his emerald green shirt open, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black jeans, and black shoes. I was mesmerized, but I managed to smile and greet him, "Hello, Edward…what can I do for you tonight?"

Sitting down hurriedly on the black sofa, he looked annoyed and frustrated with his face twisted in a disgusted scowl, he spat, "Listen to me…Isn't that what you do?" Again, my first impulse was to reach out and hug him, despite the animosity seeping through his every pore. I had no idea yet who it was aimed at.

I took my jacket off since I had already prepared myself for leaving, hanging it on the back of my desk's chair and walked calmly to the leather armchair across from his sofa, crossing my legs after I sat. "I'm all ears." I almost whispered, looking to him in a sincere posture.

He was rocking his body back and forth with his hands covering his face, his elbows on his knees. Every attempt of speaking seemed to be caught up in his throat; the only noises he would utter sounded like moans.

I stood up and went for a glass of water. Kneeling down in front of him, I touched his arm to make him look at me and take the glass of water. As if I had spooked him, his left hand flew to my left wrist, his eyes locked on mine.

"I loved him." He murmured desperately, his body shaking as his watery eyes closed, finally freeing the tears, letting them slide down his beautiful, pink-tinted cheeks.

Still grasping my wrist tight, I saw him balling up, burying his head into my chest. I had no choice but to circle my right arm around him and offer the physical contact he needed at that moment.

I know, unprofessional and unorthodox, but necessary. I smelled alcohol in his breath. I had no idea how much, but he surely had been drinking. My heart swelled, thinking that in a time of despair, he came to me.

He came to me!

He cried in my arms until he finally gave in and fell asleep. And he fell hard. As I felt his body go limp in my arms, I laid him down on the couch. Standing up, I went for the cupboard to retrieve a blanket, covering him with it and tucking it in down his back.

Crossing the room once again, I sat down on my chair and watched him sleep. I ended up dozing off, only to be awakened by the sound of a cell phone vibrating. I palmed my pockets, discovering it wasn't my phone making the vibrating noise. It was probably Edward's.

I went to the couch, knelt down close to him and tried to wake him up without success. I found his phone in his shirt pocket. It had stopped vibrating, though. I saw the name on the screen for the lost call—Dad. I kept the phone, letting it sink into my own shirt pocket, and the next time it vibrated I picked it up.

Don't ask me if that was professional or ethical or whatever; I was doing what the situation dictated, regardless of protocol. The man must have been worried shitless, and I owed him a lot.

"Hello…Edward?", was his hurried question.

"Good evening Dr. Cullen, this is Doctor Jasper Hale speaking."

"Did Edward forget his phone there yesterday?" He sounded confused.

"No, Edward is here now. I'm sorry for the boldness of answering his phone; I thought you would be worried and needed news from him."

"What's going on? Is he okay? Are you at the hospital with him?" Hospital? I didn't really understand why I would be at the hospital with him. But I answered it anyway.

"No, Dr. Cullen, we are in my office."

"He didn't have an appointment, and it's too late for him to be there!" He never let me finish what I had to say, and I was already tired as hell. Looking at my watch, I saw it was almost midnight.

"Dr. Cullen, I need you to listen to me." It was how I asked him to shut the fuck up, in a nice polite way, of course.

"Edward came here looking for me. I let him in. He looked distressed. The only thing he said to me was that he loved him; I believe he was talking about James, and then he cried himself to sleep."

"I'm so sorry, Jasper. I'm sorry for all the trouble. It's almost midnight, and you are there with him. I'll come there to pick him up—"

"No…there is no need for that. He trusted me. He came to me. I will be here for him when he wakes up. I can't betray his trust by letting you come here and take him home. It's my job. He is my patient, and he trusted the confidentiality it involves. I took the call because I presumed you were worried. But that's all. He stays here until he wakes up and decides to leave."

"I understand. I'm not here to teach you to do your job. Just…", and that was all he said. "Thanks for your dedication to my son."

"Why did you think we were at the hospital?" I needed to know.

"Edward finally had the guts to go get tested. We ran some tests and found out …well, James wasn't exactly healthy when he died. He had found out a few months know. Edward went to the hospital to get his results back this evening. I thought maybe you had run into him there."

My heart burned. I felt so much sympathy for his situation. What if he was sick? Was that why he had gotten drunk? Was he positive?

Carlisle broke through my internal ranting, "He is healthy, by the way. I checked before they called him letting him know the results were ready." And the world made sense again.

After saying our goodbyes and hanging up, I went to the cupboard again and got my air mattress since it seemed to me I wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

I made my bed, but before lying down, I went back to Edward. I caved in, unable to resist the temptation of running my fingers through his hair. I'm only human.

While savouring the moment, I heard him mutter, "Take your hands off me, James." I pulled my hand back immediately, looking at his face and instantly relieved when I saw he was still asleep. Why would he want James to take his hands off him if he loved him? This was starting to get interesting.

When I woke in the morning, Edward was still there sleeping, wrapped in the blanket; his beautiful angular jaw resting on the pillow, showing a thin coat of stubble now. His hair was a copper mess, and his breathing slow and calm while his arms hugged one of the other pillows close to his heart as a kid would do to a stuffed animal.

Lucky fucking pillow.

When Alice poked her head into my office to check on me, she was surprised with the scene she witnessed.

"You two slept here?", she whispered, walking into the room as stealthy as a cat.

"Yeah," I whispered, folding my blanket.

"Did you have the chance to talk?"

"Not really. He cried a lot then passed out. I would guess he'd been drinking."

My hand flew to my face, feeling the stubble on my own chin.

"Oh," was all she could articulate.

"I need you to clear my schedule for the day. I don't want to wake him, and I don't want to waste the chance of him finally talking to me. If I'm that lucky, I don't want to be disturbed."

"Can I get you anything? Coffee?", she offered.

"Sure…coffee…for both of us. Thank you."

Alice disappeared through the door.

Sitting down, I looked at my notes while trying to imagine the reason why Edward came to me instead of going to his family or friends. Was he finally realizing he could trust me?

Seeing him stirring on the couch, I whispered, "Morning, Edward. How are you feeling today?"

He tried opening his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again, taking his hands to his head.


"Not so good," he croaked.

Thankful he didn't freak out for waking up in my office, I continued with regular conversation. "I'm sorry about the couch. I thought of moving you onto the mattress so I could take the couch, but you were fast asleep, and I don't think I'm strong enough to lift you." Edward was way taller than me, and by his figure, he worked out. His muscled bulk suggested he was heavy.

"The couch was okay." he said.

Alice walked in and handed us our coffees. Perfect timing!

"Sorry Alice, but can you go to a drugstore and buy Edward a toothbrush and a hair brush, too? Oh, and some aspirin?"

"Sure, no worries." And just like a little bird, she flew out as quickly as she'd flown in; even before I could thank her.

Still wrapped in the blanket on the couch, Edward kept his eyes closed while sipping his coffee. He looked like an innocent kid; his hair all dishevelled, his face wrinkled and marked by the crumples in the pillows.

Still grasping the coffee cup in his hands, his eyes focused on the coffee cup lid, he started to talk. "Thanks for last night. You didn't have know. And I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go." Edward pursed his lips. I could see his flushed cheeks, but I didn't want him to feel embarrassed—not with me.

"It's fine, Edward, really."

He raised his eyes a bit, meeting mine, and nodded. Once again, he cast his eyes down at the cup of coffee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I was afraid of being pushy, but needed to try.

"Don't you have anyone you have to see now?" His voice was soft, hopeful as he peeked through his lashes in my direction, looking down again before I had the chance to answer him.

"Not really. I'm free for the day." My attention was all on him, studying his movements, his body language.

"Really?" His emerald orbs were back on me, showing some sort of emotion...happiness?

"Yeah, really."

Silence filled the air again, but by the movements of his eyes, hands going through hair, and nails being bitten, I imagined his mind was reeling.

"You really don't have any commitments for the day?" he asked again. I shook my head no. "So you are all mine for now?" he went on.

"For now," I needed to draw a line; if not for him, for myself. I was too eager to spend the day with him. If it was up to me, he would really spend the whole day here. I wanted to know what was going on with him. I was desperate to have him talk.

He was withdrawn, and yet as desperate as a drowning victim searching for a hand to pull him out of the water. It took him a while, but once he was decided, he looked at me while still biting his nails and began to speak. It was just a whisper, but it was all I needed; for him to be strong and give it a try. "Okay. I need to tell someone. I feel I can now. I've got nothing else to lose."

A/N – I know there's no nasty imagery or events in chapter one. The warning is actually to prevent people from starting to read the story and suddenly after chapter one, finding out it was nothing as they thought it would be, although the title kind of gives it away.

I would really love your feedback. Write anything; your thoughts, your feelings, your ideas to what you think is going to happen next. Just please, don't flame me. You have been warned of the content. Please be patient. Edward is in therapy for a reason, and in his state of mind, he needed time.

So now, please, hit the blue button and let me know what you think.