AN: I have a very special thank you this week. My very own special beta contributed to the writing of this chapter. I asked her to do something for me, but she surprised me with the content last weekend and it blew me away! I will mention what part she wrote in my bottom AN.

I just wanted to thank her for her amazing work as my beta and this special gift she gave me for this chapter. The luckiest day of my fanfic life was when Steph said she would be my beta, I really don't know what I would do without her.

Thank you Cullen818.

I do not own Twilight or any of its characters.

"Healing in a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity." - Hippocrates

Chapter 21 – My Saving Grace

How does one find forgiveness?

That question has run through my mind countless times since my first session with Dr. Alistair Brownley. Since my breakdown, three months ago, I have been seeing Rosalie's therapist every other day. Well, now…my therapist as well.

Alistair has been attempting to convey that I haven't come to terms with what has happened in the past, and because of that, I can't deal with shit now. So each appointment we drudge up a little more history, telling him things I have spent years trying to forget; things I never want to remember.

After my first several appointments my nightmares had taken on a new level. Instead of the usual occurrence of watching my little sister die in my arms, and then my version of the reenactment of James' death, other memories are starting to creep in.

Memories of better times, and one would think that is a good thing…but it isn't. It makes the ache in my chest unbearable. It is nothing but a reminder of what I have lost, what I took for granted, and what was cut too short.

Since James' death Rosalie has had to up her visits to the good doctor back to once a week. We purposefully made our appointments on separate days, and we never talk about what is discussed at our visits.

Except for today.

I have a feeling today will either be a turning point to my recovery, or it will set me back years.

I sit in the waiting room of Alistair's office, frightened about the outcome of today. My hand shakes, gripping the contents of my fist in an iron clad hold, waiting for Rosalie to show up.

Rosalie.

My saving grace. Who would have fucking thought that would ever be the case? I actually smile, even with anxious adrenaline running rabid through me.

Rosalie and I are both learning to cope with the loss, not only of James, but for Claire and my parents. The process is slow, but I am starting to see some improvement within the last week or so.

We are both starting to smile again, even laugh occasionally.

She has done so much for me. After my "episode" I never went back to the house James and I shared. I stayed with Rosalie while she managed to get the place cleaned up, repaired and sold within two months time. With the money from the sale she bought me a sweet place on Lake Wolverine. It seemed too extravagant for me, but she insisted that I needed the peace that the surrounding environment provided.

She was right. It is truly my sanctuary. I use the deck on the back of the house often, finding solitude in staring up at the stars at night, watching the moonlight set over the water, attempting to discern the best way to get my life back on track.

Everything that was salvageable from the old house is kept in storage, which mainly consisted of James' things. One of the items that Rosalie insisted on putting in my house is the desk that James purchased for me. I keep it in one of the spare rooms that I never go into, but I am glad I have it with me.

I have met a few acquaintances in the small community that I now reside in, and being one of the only single young guys on the block, I have been invited to many barbeques and parties. Rosalie makes me go, and attends with me to ward off all of the unsuspecting and hopeful ladies.

One thing I am not ready for is a relationship…of any kind. I hold everyone at arm's length for their own safety. I don't need any friends…or more, right now.

Alistair reminds me daily that I need to work on myself, and that I am not any good to anybody else in my current condition.

The only exceptions that I make are for my band mates, and especially Sebastian.

About a month after James' died, Marcus had found us a great gig, opening for a band that was growing rapidly in popularity. The show is in three more months, and we have been practicing our asses off since then. Apparently, the drummer and bassist had caught one of our shows almost a year ago and thought we would be perfect for the part. But when Marcus gave us the good news, Sebastian had some bad news.

He was quitting the band.

He had barely shown up to any of our jam sessions previously; one of the only things I found that provided relief from the stresses of the day. Playing made me forget momentarily about the struggle to get through daily life.

But James' death had also hit Sebastian hard. At the time, I had been well into my third week of counseling, just barely learning how to communicate feelings myself. I really only displayed them under extreme duress in front of Alistair, but I felt like I was on the cusp of losing something I needed so badly…and him too. We needed each other, and we needed this gig.

I pulled him aside and found the inner strength to talk about James with him. I kept a forced smile on my face, and I fought to maintain my façade, as I helped him recall funny stories about James' antics. Every instance that was brought up felt like a knife stabbing in my heart. Thankfully, it wasn't all for naught though, because I managed to make Sebastian smile and even laugh once, but ultimately the point that I needed to get across was that I didn't blame him for what happened to James - that nobody did.

And so he stayed, but it had been difficult when he cried in my arms that night, but we had been close ever since, spending more time with each other outside of practice than anyone else.

It had been easy to tell Sebastian those things, because God knows I had heard that shit a hundred times before. The same things fell off of my lips that had been said to me over and over. Things like: "It's not your fault," and "We don't blame you."

I saw the skepticism there in his eyes when I repeated these phrases, and I felt the earth come crashing down around me. This was me.

This was my life, as I knew it.

I had no problem saying the words…and meaning them, but never once was I ever able to believe them, so how could I have expected Sebastian to? So, I made it my goal that night to make sure he understood, and since that time, we have been therapy for each other. Watching Sebastian learn to accept my words is a lesson that I sorely need, but it still begs the question, how does one find forgiveness when everyone that you need to forgive you is dead?

I have no hope of gaining forgiveness from those who I have hurt.

I am brought out of my musings by a gust of wind that hits my face when the door to the office opens; Rosalie's eyes cast about the office before they land on me. I throw her a tentative smile, and she does the same. I can see the nervousness laced in her expression.

She doesn't know why she is here.

Rosalie and I have grown immensely close to each other in the last few months, and I know that she is worried that this is going to be a setback. When she sits down, I hide my own fear of the same, and grab her hand to give it a light squeeze.

Knowing that I am even able to do that…offer some type of comfort…in my world, is amazing progress.

And that does not go unnoticed by Rosalie. She turns her palm up and squeezes my hand in turn, pumping it a couple of times before she lets it go. She visibly loosens up, from my attentiveness, and it is at that moment that I know that this is going to be a good thing.

"So, how are your new classes? Do you have a lot of homework?" She asks.

I've recently started school over. I decided after the last encounter with Sarah, Peter and Charlotte, that it would probably be best for everyone if I didn't show back up at Eastern University. Besides with James' death coinciding directly with that confrontation, I had skipped so many classes that it would have been impossible for me to catch up anyway. So I enrolled in some off site classes at Michigan State University, mainly sticking with general classes that you need for every degree, until I can figure out what I want to do.

"It isn't that bad. I have a short paper to write on women's roles in the Civil War."

"What?" She chuckles. "Why did you pick that topic?"

"I didn't have a choice. I was assigned it."

"Awesome." She says with another laugh. Her eyes fall again to what I am gripping in my hand, but she doesn't ask.

Silence looms uncomfortably again. I can feel her tension mount as the time for our appointment draws near, so I try to make her feel at ease once again.

I want her to feel like today is going to have a positive conclusion, even if I am not sure of it myself. "I was thinking about stopping at the store tonight and picking up some steaks. Did you want to come over? I bought a new grill…" I say hopefully.

She doesn't look at me, as she appears to be momentarily deep in thought, but a smile grows on her face and she turns to me. "Sure. I can pick up a cheesecake from that bakery down the street from my place."

"Cool." We "celebrated" my twenty-fifth birthday last month at her place. She invited me over for dinner and bought me a cheesecake since neither of us are a big fan of traditional birthday cake. She forced me to have a slice, and it was decadent. Nothing in the world should ever taste that good.

"Trying to fatten me up?" I add, with a smile on my face. I had slowly started gaining some of the weight back that I had lost. I am still under what I had been previous to James' death, but I was beginning to show signs of having a healthy appetite again, food was actually starting to sound good, and thoughts of a steak to celebrate an anticipated victory today sounded perfectly scrumptious. My stomach concurs, as it growls in eagerness.

I start making a mental list of everything I have to get at the store, and which aisles I can find all the ingredients in to get in and out of there quickly. I have always had a strong distaste for grocery shopping, but since the incident with Bella I loathed it with a passion. I never went back to that grocery store again, even though it was the closest to my house. The fear that I could run into Bella again and have a similar encounter was palpable.

Never again did I want to experience such a devastating blow to my already fragile state of worth. Bella had made me feel so utterly unwanted that day. I don't blame her; I actually give her credit for standing up and not backing down. I had just been a fling to help her get through a tough period in her life, and nothing more.

Unfortunately, my way of dealing with that issue is still not talking about it. Bella remains a subject that is off limits…to everyone.

"He's ready to see you now." Heidi speaks from behind the desk. She is the receptionist, and also Alistair's much younger wife.

Rosalie glances one more time at the paper I am holding before she stands. "Okay." Her voice shakes.

^*^

Alistair is sitting behind a large oak desk when we enter the room. His head is bent down, studying some paperwork, but his eyes lift above the rims of his spectacles. A large smile spreads across his features, making him look years younger than he really must be. "Have a seat guys."

We scramble over to the large cushioned sofa and plop down. The area is a casual one; it looks like a typical living room. Alistair comes over, and sits in a chair adjacent to us. "So how are you guys doing today?" He sits back and crosses his leg over the other.

"Okay." Rosalie and I mumble in unison.

"Jasper, did you tell your sister why you wanted her here today?" What I liked about Alistair is that he never minces words, and he isn't into small talk.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I really didn't want to have to talk about it until now, and also, I didn't want her to be worried about it."

"Well, it's very nice that you took her feelings into account. Now, why don't you fill her in, Jasper? Before she explodes." He says, grinning. I glance over at Rosalie, and she does look like she is a nervous wreck.

I turn the envelope around in my hand a few times, and Rosalie catches the handwriting on the front and gasps, but I explain anyway.

"When my mom and dad died there was a letter left behind for me. I…I never opened it." I look at Rosalie, and see the tears swimming in her eyes. "I want to do that today. With you here." I stare hard at her for an immeasurable amount of time, willing her to see that this is a step in the right direction, and one that I wanted to take with her.

"Okay Jasper, why don't you open it now." Alistair whispers, knowing the severity of this step in my recovery.

After almost a year and a half in my possession, I break the seal, and pull out the taupe stationery. I open the folded sheets of the handwritten, three-page letter. I take a shaky breath, and clear my throat.

Rosalie reaches in her purse to grab some tissues, and she holds them in a fist pressed up against her lips as I begin to read the words my mom never got a chance to speak to me out loud.

Jasper,

I don't know if this letter will ever make it into your hands, part of me hopes that it will, so that you will see how much you mean to me, but the other part of me hopes that I will someday get to tell you all of these things in person. Either way, it doesn't matter, as long as you know how I really feel.

First, it's very important for me to say that I love you and always have, despite what you may think. I know that I could have handled things differently after Claire died, but my only excuse is that I was a mother grieving for the loss of her daughter. I shut down and had an extremely difficult time coming back to reality. I realize now that by acting the way that I did, you misunderstood, and you thought that I somehow blamed you for what happened with your sister. For that, I'm terribly sorry. It was an accident Jasper, a horrible, tragic accident and I never blamed you for her death. This is something that I should have told you years ago. As a mother, I did the worst possible thing I could do. I let my grief and pain engulf me. I mourned the loss of Claire for so long that I neglected you and Rosalie. That's something that I'll never be able to take back. Not only did I lose Claire that night, but I lost you too. I just didn't know it then. I didn't understand how that one night was going to change the whole dynamic of our family.

Things didn't come easily after her death, and I let this family fall apart. I let you leave us because I thought you needed your space, time to grow. I never thought that we would drift so far apart and not be able to come back from that. I assumed that you would return to us and we would heal, but you were consumed in your own grief, and that pain caused you to make decisions that you might otherwise not have made. None of this was your fault, I was the parent and I should have reached out to you. I hope someday you'll understand my choices and forgive me.

After all of these years, I see things so much more clearly now. I recognize my mistakes in all of this, and so does your father. He's a stubborn man, and I think you take after him. You're proud and you don't allow others in so easily. He grieves for the loss of you every day, but I know it's just not possible for him to reach out to you. The same way I know that you can't reach out to us.

Today is your birthday, and every year since you've left I take out that old photo album that I put together of your childhood. I take it to the backyard and sit on the porch and reminisce. I wish you could be here when I flip through that album. It starts with the day you were born; I remember that like it was yesterday. You were so tiny and fragile. You were my perfect baby boy, and in so many ways I still see you that way. I flip the pages and cry…your first steps, that little stuffed lamb you carried around the house until you went to nursery school, getting on the bus for kindergarten, losing your two front teeth, little league, that Christmas you got your first guitar, summers at the lake, you and Rose playing in the yard, Easter Egg hunts and trips to the pumpkin patch, welcoming your new baby sister, pushing her on the swing, teaching her to ride a bike, and then there's no more. I realize when it all stopped. I shut down and stopped being the mom that you needed. I wasn't done raising you.

Of course you left us, what choice did you have? You blamed yourself for what happened and I didn't set you straight. I couldn't then, but I can now. Rosalie keeps me updated on what's going on in your life. She wouldn't want you to know that she keeps tabs on you, but she does it because she misses you. I hope that if we never reconcile, you'll at least be able to do that with your sister. You need one another, and she wants to be a part of your life. She's just as stubborn as you and your father, but don't let that fool you. If you get that opportunity, Jasper, please let her in. She needs you as much as you need her. I know that James has been the only constant in your life and for that I am so grateful. I may not have believed he was the best influence for you, but I know that he continues to be your lifeline. I'm glad that you have him, and I hope that someday, I'll get to thank him for being there for you; for taking care of my son when I should have been. Everyone should have a friend who is that supportive. I know that the two of you have gotten mixed up in some pretty messed up situations. Growing pains, I'm hoping. But know this; none of your choices could ever make me or your father love you any less.

I'm hoping that if I'm brave enough to mail this letter to you that you'll come back to me. I miss you, and I want to be in your life in any capacity that you'll have me. I don't want to push myself on you, and that's why I haven't reached out sooner. I know the amazing, kind-hearted, loving boy you were, and I'm confident you have grown into an extraordinary man. I don't expect your forgiveness of me and your father to come easily, and if you can't I'll understand, but please find it in your heart to forgive yourself. You have nothing to be sorry for. There are many things in this life to doubt, but your mother's love shouldn't be one of them. I just wanted you to know how much I love you and that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of you. You'll be with me always.

In the event that we can't reconcile, I want you to find happiness and peace. You've had too many painful years in your short life. No child should have to carry this burden. I don't want that for you. I've failed you in so many ways, but as I parent I'm telling you to live your life with no regrets. I love you with all of my heart.

Love,

Mom

I fold the letter slowly, and I lift my blurry eyes to the doctor, almost afraid to look at Rosalie. Alistair is taking all of this in…my mother's words, my expression, and how I am handling the situation. "Jasper, what do you think of the letter?"

The room is closing in around me. Everything I ever thought was real is dissolving before my eyes.

"I thought she abandoned me. I thought she didn't want me anymore." I mutter.

"How about now? Do you still feel like that?" Alistair prods.

"No." I whisper fervently. "I thought she had forgotten me…" I trail off, feeling stupid for the assumptions I had formed so long ago.

I finally chance a glimpse over in Rosalie's direction, who had so far remained silent. The crinkled tissues are still held up against her lips, but they are swollen, as are her eyes as she holds in her anguish.

"You checked up on me?"

She looks like a dam ready to burst. She manages to nod her head, but she doesn't dare speak.

"I love you Rosie." The words are surprising and gutted from my chest. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?" I ask thickly.

She removes the tissue from her mouth only to let out a strangled sob. She grabs her bag, and runs for the door, fleeing as fast as her shaken form can carry her.

My hands dive into my hair and pull hard. I look at the doc for some clarification on what just happened.

Alistair clenches his hands into fists, and his tone comes out with emotion. "When are you going to understand? The only forgiveness you have yet to receive is your own. Only you, yourself, can heal you Jasper. Find forgiveness in yourself and you will be free from these demons you carry."

I growl in frustration. It seems an impossible task. Can I do that?

Can I forgive myself?

AN: So, if you haven't already guessed, Steph, Cullen818 wrote the letter from Jasper's mom. Please let us know what you thought of her contribution as well as the rest of the chapter.

If you be extra sweet I just might skip over some crap so we can see Bella in the next chapter…