A/N: This will probably be the shortest chapter in the story, so don't be put off by that. I'm only allowed to choose two main characters, but the story is about how Jasper fits in with the family, so all of the Cullen's, and probably Bella, will get their say. Thanks for the reviews; you guys have no idea how happy they make me!

PS, if anyone wants to beta for me, they will have my eternal love and gratitude.

Carlisle POV

It wasn't until later that night that I was able to really look at the file I had been presented with. Rosalie and Emmett were out on a date and Alice and Edward were watching a movie, leaving Esme and I to talk alone in the bedroom. Her dark eyes were worried when she saw the size of the folder.

"Why you, Carlisle? Why do they suddenly want to give us this kid?" It was somewhat of a sore point with her that her MS had prevented us from being able to take more children into our home. We had both grown up as only children, and hadn't wanted Edward to be lonely like we had been. Not that he seemed to need much more than his music, but I couldn't imagine how empty our lives could have been without Alice, Emmett or Rosalie. "Is there something you didn't tell the rest of them?"

My wife knew me too well. "Demitri felt like we could be a good placement for a few reasons. The boy-"

"Jasper." She cut me off before I could go any further. "If we plan on taking him in, we can't be calling him 'kid' or 'boy' or 'the poor thing'. We have to call him by his name. It's probably the only thing he has left."

That was Esme, already defending Jasper, even before they had met. "Jasper then. Esme, Jasper has suffered a traumatic brain injury, and has come out remarkably intact. Still, he may end up having long term difficulties, and they felt like it was a good idea to have him placed with someone who has some medical experience."

She nodded. We both knew that my medical degree was probably the only reason that they had been willing to place Alice with us. I hated to use my education as a bargaining chip, especially when it was Esme that the children really responded to, but I hated the thought of losing that girl even more. "But nothing so far?"

I rechecked the latest medical chart. "Some recurring headaches, nothing too severe. He's had a few episodes of fainting spells, but it looks like they were all following therapy sessions, so they think that might be a psychosomatic problem. A tiny bit of weakness on the right side. Nothing else that can be directly attributed to what happened."

I wasn't sure if I should let her see the rest of the report. The head injury was the culmination of what probably amounted to years of abuse, as evidenced by the roadmap of scars covering the kid's- no, Jasper's- body. None on the face or hands though, she had been smart enough to mark places that could be easily hidden. I wasn't given to violent thoughts, but I hoped that somewhere, Ms. Maria Teresa was suffering as badly as she had made Jasper, and probably the rest of the children in her care, suffer.

"What are the other issues?" She's always known when I'm holding out on her.

"Hard to say. He's been attending therapy, but he doesn't really seem to like or trust the doctor, so it's hard to make a clear diagnosis. We do know that he has severe sleep disturbances, night terrors as well as sleepwalking, but that's seems to be under control with the right medication. He shows some definite signs of PTSD, so we'll have to be careful of that"

"But no aggression, right?"

It was then that I knew my wife was hooked. As much as she might try to convince herself otherwise, she was already preparing a place in her heart for this Jasper. Whether or not he would be able to accept her love remained to be seen, but she had to try. Her only concern now was whether or not she would be able to physically handle him. With Alice being sexually abused, and the suspicions that Rosalie had been also, we could not accept a physically or sexually aggressive child into our home, especially when the "child" was 17 years old and capable of overpowering the women in the house.

"No. According to all the reports, he's actually quite sweet. If it gives you any idea, when social services split them up, the younger kids were all crying for Jasper instead of Maria. He tried to raise them, Esme. Poor guy did the best he could in the middle of Hell."

"Then we have to do the best we can for him. He deserves to have someone stand up for him, for once in his life."

I gave her a playful smile. "So, is that a yes?"

"It's a maybe. Let's read the rest of it, see what exactly we're dealing with." Her dark eyes told a different story. Yes, they said. Yes, let's try with him. If we don't, who else will?

Together we lay in bed and read the cold words that described a human life. One that had only recently hung in the balance. According to the report, Jasper Franklin Whitlock had been born on May 5th, 1992, a cherished and wanted baby. Early childhood was normal, and he hit all the proper milestones. A few pictures revealed a blond toddler with striking grey-green eyes and a wide smile. Esme smiled back, touching the glossy picture. "He's cute."

He was indeed cute. It wasn't until he was nearly six that things went south for our little Jasper. His kindergarten records showed him to be a quick learner with a sunny disposition. His teacher thought he was quite charming, and noted that he loved to help the other kids.

At least for the first part of the year. That November, his father was killed in a car accident. From there, the school began to report behavior problems with Jasper. Tantrums, crying spells, delayed learning, all the signs of a traumatized child. His attendance became erratic, with him missing nearly half the days from January to March. Teachers reported him coming to school dirty and hungry when he made it at all. Finally, social services got involved, confirming that Samantha Whitlock was no longer capable of caring for her son. Subsequent notes described his mother's descent into depression and eventual suicide when Jasper was 8.

"Mental illness in the family." Esme made a mark in the margins. A history of familial mental illness raised Jasper's own risk, though it wasn't anything that would prevent us from taking him.

A medical examination from his entry into foster care revealed Jasper to be of normal height, though a bit on the thin side. A cute, young, white child, he was prime adoption material. So why hadn't someone snapped him up? I guessed the mental illness label could have scared some people off, but it had been so long since I had thought about things like that, that I couldn't imagine worrying about it. After all, statistically, Jasper was still unlikely to end up suffering from chronic depression, and even if he did, medication would probably take care of it.

Jasper's first few years in foster care seemed uneventful. 6 placements in 5 years, not a bad record. By that time, he was 12 years old, nearly 13, and becoming rather old for an adoptive placement. The cute little blond moppet had become a moody teenager, and few foster homes were willing, or even licensed, for teens. He got his last, and worst, placement a few weeks after his 13th birthday. Maria Teresa, recently licensed

From there, his records became patchy. He appeared for the necessary tests and exams, always telling the social worker how happy he was. He loved Maria, though she was not interested in adopting him, and would be happy to remain with her until he aged out of the system. Pictures though, told a different story. The sparkling smile disappeared, replaced by a nervous, closed mouth twitch. His grades fell, and his interest in social activities disappeared. Still, no one seemed to notice that something was wrong. At least until his terrified foster brother called 911 because he thought Jasper was dead.

I noticed something else. "He wants to remain in contact with his former foster brother and sister. I'm guessing those are the two closest in age to him."

It was one of those things that didn't seem like much to an outsider, but an experienced foster parent noticed right away. "He does bond with people then, so that's good." She nodded. "No matter where they are, we have to make sure they can still see each other. God only knows what they've been through together."

"Plenty, I'm sure. Most of the older kids had been in that house for years. Not one of them so much as peeped about trouble, and no one seemed to care enough to ask the right questions."

"Fell through the cracks." Esme ran her fingers over the latest picture, a school picture from his junior year. Jasper stared into the camera, his eyes stormy and untrusting. No smile, nothing to indicate that this was a young man who was happy with life. "How can someone who's been in the system since he was just five years old fall through the cracks like that?" Her voice broke. "Someone wanted this child. They carried him, and prayed for him, and loved him. It's not their fault that they died, or that they couldn't take care of him. How could no one have stepped up and taken him? It isn't fair." She touched the picture again and whispered. "Someone wanted him."

This wasn't about Jasper any more, or at least not solely about him. It wasn't something that we talked about often, but Esme had lost a baby the year after we married. Samuel Edgar Cullen had lived only two days, before succumbing to an unknown blood disorder. His loss was the reason we had chosen to foster and adopt, rather than risk more children being born ill. I never regretted the children we did have, but I couldn't help but wonder about the one we had lost.

No, it wasn't fair, not for Esme and not for Jasper, but the truth was, it happened every day. Babies died, and Jasper was just one of thousands of children that were afraid to go home at night. And now, he didn't even have a home to go to. I hesitated before turning the final page. "Do you want to see the rest?"

She knew what I was asking. Could she handle seeing the report from his last hospital admission? Did she want to know about what he had suffered, not only the head injury, but everything else. Old broken bones, burns, cuts and bruises.

"No. Not tonight." She took the file from my hands and put it on the nightstand. Her eyes bored into mine. "Alice is on board, and Edward will agree to anything she does. Emmett doesn't care one way or the other, so it's only Rose that isn't sure. Can we meet him before we make any decisions?"

Funny, I had been so caught up in his past that I had barely thought about his present. "He's at a hospital in Seattle. They had to airlift him there after his first surgery. But I'm pretty sure we can meet him first. Actually, I can call them right now."

For the second time that day, my doctorate opened doors that would have otherwise remained closed. My reputation preceded me, and I was able to set up and appointment for the next day. "Thank you, doctor. Could you not tell him that I'm a potential foster parent? I want things to be natural." As natural as a hospital setting could be.

I hung up and turned back to Esme. "Well, tomorrow at three."

She smiled softly, the same smile that had attracted me to her all those years ago. "Tomorrow at three."

I didn't want to upset her, but I felt didn't want her to get her hopes up. "Esme, slow down a bit. Just because we meet him, it isn't a definite yes. He probably has his own opinions, and he might prefer a group home to another family. Plus, Rose hasn't given the ok, and we need to have the rest of them on board before we even consider it."

"Right, right, I know." She turned off the light. "So…if we take Jasper, we may not have many nights to ourselves for quite a while. Want to take advantage of it?"

That was something we could agree on, right now. I grinned at her, even knowing she couldn't see it in the dark. Thoughts of Jasper fled my mind as I put my lips to hers. "You bet."