Jasper stands against the bathroom door frame, watching Rosalie run brush after brush over her face. He's never understood all the different creams and powders she smeared over her skin, but he knows better than to criticizes her for it. She eyes his reflection.
"What's wrong, Jasper?" She asks. He shrugs.
"Nothing."
"I know what your worried eyebrows are, and those," She points here eyeliner brush at her brother. "Are your worried eyebrows."
"Just thinking." He says.
"About?"
"About Dad," Jasper sighs. "And Mom."
"And Mom?" Rosalie asks, shocked at the mention of the parent Jasper rarely talks about. Jasper kicks at the ground. "What about them?"
"Do you think they would be, you know, ashamed?"
Rosalie pierces her lips and puts her brushes down. She turns on her heels and grabs Jasper by his shoulders. Holding him at arms length, she puts on her firmest face.
"Jasper Elliot, they would never be ashamed of you." She tells him. Jasper shrugs again.
"Even though I fucked an old lady?"
"Even though you fucked an old lady." Rosalie promises. "Jasper, remember when you were six and Mom told you to stay inside because it was too hot, but you sneaked out? And then Dad came home and found you seven feet in the air in that tree?"
Jasper chuckles ever so slightly before nodding.
"And when he called your name, you were so startled that you fell and broke your arm. We rushed you to the hospital, and Dad kept scolding you about going against what Mom said. But when the nurses came in to check on you, what did he say?"
"He said 'My boy made it all the way to the top of that tree, all by himself.'" Jasper recalls with a small smile.
"Even when you screwed up, Dad saw the best. And he would do the same thing now if he were here."
"I don't know how he would see the best in this."
"I do. If Dad were here when all this craziness happened, he would have rushed to the hotel, demanded to know what room you were in and dragged you out of there. He would have reacted just as Carlisle did. But after, he'd sit down with you and talk about what happened, and he'd probably smile and say it's the Whitlock charm that got laid." Rosalie imagines, both her and Jasper chuckling at the thought. "But then he'd say that she wasn't right for you, and you need to keep your romantic life to people within your age group. But he would never, ever be ashamed of you."
"You think so?"
"I know so." Rosalie gives him a comforting smile before pulling Jasper into a hug. He tightly hugs her back. It's only when Edward's annoyed voice booms through the house that they the school bus is coming in five minutes. The brother and sister let go of each other and sigh. "You're lucky they're not making you go to school today. Standing for the bus in this cold is horrible."
"I bet."
"But, Carlisle did promise to take me driving this weekend after therapy. Hopeful I'll be able to get my license soon." She smiles, tosses her make-up and brushes in a drawer and steps around Jasper. "I'll see you later!"
"See ya." Jasper responds dryly.
He goes to his and Edward's room to try to enjoy his time alone. His brand new guitar in its case leans against the wall. He grabs it, and with delicate hands, removes the guitar and takes it over to the bed, where he sits down and desperately tries to remember the exercises and cords his father taught him. He plucks a few strings, hoping a note will trigger his memory.
"Jasper!" Esme calls, pulling his focus from the instrament. He sighs, carries his guitar to the door and calls back.
"What?"
"Come downstairs, honey."
Guitar still in hand, Jasper groans and drags his feet to the steps and trudges down to the lower level of the house. He exams the white carpet as he comes down and remembers the disgust he had with it when he first came to live with the Cullen's, and the recalls how they all ate pizza in the living room last week.
"What do you need?" Jasper asks when he spots Esme. She smiles and shrugs.
"I would just like your company. Just to chat some."
"I'm not talking about what happened Friday." Jasper snaps. Esme nods.
"I wasn't planning on talking about that." She points to his guitar. "How's your new guitar?"
"Nice," He murmurs.
"Can you play a song for me?"
"I don't exactly remember how." He admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I've just been playing a few notes."
"Then play a few notes for me while I take care of the dishes." She requests and heads to the sink. Jasper pulls a chair from the dinner table and starts exploring the notes again.
As he plays, he remembers all the time he spent cross-legged on the floor watching his father play. Jasper was always fascinated with anything his father did, but there was something special about how Avery played guitar. As soon as his hands were big enough, Avery bought his son the child's size guitar that sat in the window of the local pawn shop and the music lessons began. Soon, father and son were playing together. Of course, they were playing things like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, but in Jasper's mind, that was better than playing at the Grand Ole Opry.
"I think I remember a song." Jasper shares with a smile. Esme smiles back and gives a nod of encouragement from the kitchen sink. He starts slow, but it only takes a few notes for it to come flooding back into his mind. His smile grows as he plays with ease.
"Jasper," Esme interjects, her voice low. She steps away from the sink, turns to face Jasper and holds one soapy hand to her forehead.
"What?" Jasper questions, not taking his eyes off his own fingers until he hears the next word that comes out of Esme's mouth.
"Seizure."
Esme is only able to get the one word out before she falls backwards. Jasper looks up just in time to see her head collide with the edge of the stove top. He jumps to his feet, letting the guitar hit the ground. He runs to her side and drops to his knees by her shoulders. Blood pools from her head wound, seeping into her top and Jasper's pants.
"Fuck, what do I do?" Jasper asks out loud.
He watches her body shake and desperately tries to remember what Carlisle told him. His own hands start to shake, not at all like how Esme is shaking, though. He curses himself for not paying attention to Carlisle's lecture about this. He instinctively reaches into his pocket to grab his cell phone, forgetting momentarily that Carlisle took it. He starts patting down Esme's pockets until he finds her phone. He dials 9-1-1 as fast as he can.
"I need an ambulance at 18342 Heighten Drive, my foster mother is having a seizure!"
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