A/N: There seems to be a little confusion about Edward, so let me clear things up. Edward does not dislike Jasper, nor is he being mean by being unsure about taking him. In the books, Edward is very logically driven, and makes his choices (leaving Bella, etc) based on the facts, rather than listening to his emotions. Carlisle on the other hand, is too driven by his emotions, mostly pity, to be able to look clearly at the situation sometimes. That is one of the reasons they work so well together, and have formed such a close bond in the books. And then there's Jasper. Don't even get me started on Jasper and where his problems come from. I'm rather opinionated about things, if you can't already tell! : )

Esme's POV

It was so quiet today. The kids had left for school, Carlisle was taking a shower, and Jasper was still asleep. Or, at the very least, he was in his room pretending to be asleep. He had gone to bed right after dinner last night, and been silent ever since. I had checked in on him twice, but both times he had been lying in bed, his back to me. Cowardice had taken over, and I hadn't been able to bring myself to call out to him.

Warm arms wrapped around me, and I leaned back against my husband. His lips touched the back of my neck. "Good morning, baby. You were gone when I woke up."

I groaned. "I had to break up an argument between Rosalie and Edward. Would you believe they were fighting over the last bowl of Lucky Charms?"

He chuckled. "I'm not surprised by anything those two fight about anymore. Remember when they had a two-week fight over the pen?"

How could I forget? The pen hadn't even been anything special, just one of the sample ones Carlisle brought home from work. It had written in purple ink, which was Rosalie's favorite color, so she had wanted it. Edward had also wanted it, but mostly because his sister did. In the end, the pen had mysteriously disappeared, and both of them had ended up grounded. Sometimes living with the pair of them could be worse than living with toddlers.

Carlisle poured himself a cup of coffee. "Do you need me to take today off? I told the other doctors that I might need some time."

I thought about it. I needed to take Jasper shopping today, as well as figure out what we were going to do about his schooling. It might be nice to have Carlisle there, particularly if my newest son decided to make some sort of scene, but on the other hand, he hated shopping. Dear Lord, did Carlisle hate shopping. "No, I think we'll be all right. Just . . ." How could I put this delicately? "Just keep your phone on, okay? I may end up needing you after all."

"You're sure?" He sounded a little doubtful.

I remembered Jasper's worried eyes from the night before, and the way he had tried to avoid Emmett, rather than aggressively defending himself from the oncoming threat. He didn't seem like the sort of person who would resort to violence, even to defend himself. He would just passively accept what was offered. Still, even the gentlest of people could be pushed too far, and I wanted to make sure I had a backup plan. "I'm sure. A little mother-son bonding never hurt anyone."

He turned on the stove, getting ready to make some breakfast. "Where are you two going?"

"The mall. At the very least, he needs a winter coat, Carlisle; he's going to freeze to death otherwise. He needs some more clothes, period, and I'm going to assume he doesn't have anything dressy. Then, if I haven't worn him out completely, we might go and see if we can get some decorations for his room. I don't think white walls go very well with teenage boy."

"Not all teenage boys are like Emmett. Some of them can actually keep the walls clean." He expertly cracked two eggs into the pan. "Fried or sunny side up?"

"Fried." I looked up at the staircase hopefully, but there was absolutely nothing happening. "I guess I should go try and get him up."

Carlisle looked up at the ceiling. "He's certainly quiet up there. I expected to be up with him at least once. The way the nurses made it sound, we should have been able to hear him anywhere in the house."

A thought occurred to me, something that I hadn't considered before. "Do you think he got any sleep at all?"

"I don't know." I could hear the unspoken words. I don't know, Esme. Really, what do we know about this kid? How am I supposed to know what maladaptive reaction he's going to show at any given time?

The answer, of course, was nothing. We knew virtually nothing about Jasper, except what was in his report, and even that had been rather sanitized. "Well, we do know that he's probably hungry. He didn't eat much last night." Even if that wasn't much, it was something.

He nodded. "There is that. Ask him how he likes his eggs."

My hips and back pained me as I went up the stairs. It wasn't a good sign that I was hurting this early in the day, but I pushed that to the back of my mind. I had already had my period of self-pity, and I was through letting my disease run my life. I knocked on Jasper's door. It had been open last night, in case he needed Carlisle or me, but Alice had closed it this morning so that he wouldn't be bothered by the sounds of them getting ready for school.

Alice. For whatever reason, Jasper had taken to her almost as soon as he had seen her, something that surprised both Carlisle and me. He seemed calmer when she was with him, as close to happy as he appeared capable of being. I hated to draft a sixteen-year-old girl into a parenting role, but if he were responsive to her, then we needed to go with that. She seemed as thrilled with him as he was with her, though, so I didn't think she would mind.

Something had happened while they were alone upstairs last night, I was sure of it, but they seemed to have banded together. My first thought was that Jasper had said or done something to try and frighten Alice, but he had been the one that looked pale and scared when they came back downstairs. I made a mental note to try and coax some answers out of my daughter tonight.

The door was still closed, so I tapped on it lightly. "Jasper, are you awake?"

The answer was muffled, but immediate. "Yes."

"Can I come in?" For the moment, it was his choice. If I couldn't get him out by noon, I was going in there whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, ma'am."

He did have nice manners. I wondered who had taught him to be so polite and respectful. His biological mother, perhaps? Or had it been a foster mother trying desperately to groom him for potential adopters? I slid the door open, noticing that he was still in bed. "Hey, sweetheart, are you planning on staying in here all day?"

The blond head shook, hair falling into his eyes. "I'm trying to get caught up."

For the first time, I noticed the textbook sitting on the bed. Algebra II, something that I doubted he could master on his own. "We'll talk about school later. Carlisle is making breakfast downstairs; how do you like your eggs?"

"Any way is fine. I'm not picky."

No preference about his food, the same way he seemed to have no preference about anything else. "All right, well, why don't you come on down and get something to eat? You and I are going to go shopping today."

"How come?" He stood carefully, stretching out his muscles.

"Because you need things. Your food should be ready in a few minutes." I left before he had a chance to refuse.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow when I came back downstairs, an egg held ready over the pan. "He doesn't care; just go ahead and fry his."

He shuddered at the thought of a fried egg touching his lips. Scrambled was the only way he would eat them, and even then, it was only rarely. "How about you make some bacon? If he's anything like Emmett, he'll eat everything in sight."

Jasper came down the stairs about the same time the bacon was done cooking. He was wearing the same jeans as yesterday — I could tell, because there was a red mark near one knee — and a different long-sleeved t-shirt. His hair was combed into some semblance of order, though he was in dire need of a haircut. He paused uncertainly in the doorway, looking from Carlisle to me and back again. I smiled encouragingly. "Good morning. There's coffee on the counter, or milk and juice in the fridge. Help yourself."

He went unerringly to the cabinet with the glasses in it, clearly remembering his way from helping Alice set the table the night before. He pulled a tall glass out and retrieved the milk from the fridge. Good, maybe I wasn't going to have to push healthy eating on this one. When we first got Emmett, he would touch nothing but soda, macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs. Apparently that was all that he had ever gotten to eat with his biological parents, and his previous foster homes had just found it easier to give in to him than to fight at every meal. It took years, but now he's a pretty adventurous eater. Provided things come in quantities that satisfy someone his size, of course.

Now that I saw Jasper in the brighter lights of the kitchen, I could tell that he hadn't slept well. His eyes were ringed, the shadows so deep that they almost resembled bruises. He looked pale, also, and seemed tired. His file had said nothing about him being an insomniac, but then there were apparently quite a few things that hadn't been mentioned.

Carlisle put down the three plates and sat, looking Jasper in the eyes. "So, I think we should talk about school."

Jasper tensed, no doubt expecting our anger at his dismal grades. "Okay."

"The way I see it, you have three options right now. I could enroll you with the rest of the kids today and you could try to finish out the year." He paused, giving Jasper a chance to respond.

"I'm failing all my classes." He was clutching the napkin for dear life, his fingers shredding it nervously. "I don't think I can pass."

I could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, and I was desperate to reassure him. "That's all right. You barely got started in your classes before . . ." I wasn't sure how to talk about Maria had done, so I skipped over it. "Before you got hurt, and it sounded like you had a lot to deal with anyway. So that option is out."

He didn't relax at all. Sitting there stiffly across the table, Jasper looked like a man on his way to the guillotine. "All right, another option would be to pull you out of school entirely, and re-enroll you as a junior again in the fall. That way, the pressure is off for right now, and you can go back and catch up with what you might have missed first semester."

His face remained impassive, but something flashed in his eyes. Obviously, he didn't like this suggestion, either. But he poked lightly at his eggs and shrugged. "That could work."

"But?" I pressed gently.

He looked up again, and now I could recognize the shame in his eyes. "I . . . I already failed a grade. Kindergarten. So I'm already the oldest in most of my classes. If I flunk again, I'm going to be two years older than everyone else."

The dichotomy between his embarrassment about it and Emmett, who failed two grades but didn't care, was surprising. If I remembered Jasper's file right, kindergarten had been the same year his father had been killed and his mother began slipping into mental illness. Jasper had already proven himself to be rather emotional, and I was betting that his being held back had more to do with his behavior than him not being able to perform the academic tasks. "So, we have a third option. We hire a tutor for over the summer, and try to get you back up to speed before school starts. You would pretty much be giving up your summer, though. How does that sound?"

"Good. I can do that." There was still something in his tone, an unvoiced worry, that put me on edge. What was he hiding from me this time? I watched as he put a few slices of bacon on his plate, carefully arranging them around his eggs.

Carlisle stood up. "I'm headed to work; I should be home around six. Have fun today." He gave me a quick kiss and Jasper a gentle nod. I stood to walk him to the doorway, watching Jasper out of the corner of my eye.

Sure enough, as soon as he thought we weren't watching, he scarfed his food down as quickly as he could. Within seconds, he had managed to eat three eggs and five slices of bacon, as well as drain the glass of milk. It confirmed what I had already expected: Jasper was used to being underfed. He knew that if he didn't get the food when it was put in front of him, there was a good chance he wouldn't get it at all. He wasn't the first foster child whom I had seen this behavior from, but it was heartbreaking all the same. I had noticed his rapid eating last night, though not to the same degree, but I had put it down to the fact that he was eating later than normal, and that he was a teenage boy, a creature pretty much synonymous with the term 'bottomless pit.' The fact that he only did it when he thought he wasn't being watched told me that he had been yelled at, and probably punished, for the inappropriate behavior before.

I added 'table manners' to the mental list of things I needed to work on with Jasper. Honestly, though, once you paired it with things like 'trust,' 'eye contact,' and 'sleep issues,' it really wasn't a priority. All of his issues related back to insecurity, and I was hoping that once he felt comfortable with the family, and learned he was safe and would be cared for, his food issues would disappear.

So I ignored it completely, giving Carlisle another kiss, and a reminder to stop at the store and pick up a few things on his way home. He raised an eyebrow at me, knowing something was up, but I just shook my head. We could discuss that later, in the privacy of our bedroom. "Goodbye, darling."

He gave me a soft response and left. I turned away as soon as the door closed. Silly, I know, but I could never bear to watch him drive down the driveway and away from me. Jasper was at the sink, silently washing his and Carlisle's breakfast dishes. I spoke softly, unwilling to disturb the calm morning. "Did you get enough to eat?" I hoped he would be able to hear what I wasn't saying. You can have whatever you want, Jasper. You don't have to ask me for food, and you'll never be denied it if you do. You don't have to be afraid here.

If he did, he gave no indication. "Yes, ma'am. Can I get your plate?"

It wasn't really necessary for him to do that, but I sensed he needed something to occupy his mind and hands for a few minutes. "That would be wonderful." I stood up. "I thought we could go to the mall first, get you some clothes, then maybe get some ideas for your room? You can't like the plain walls and bedding."

He shrugged, as if it made no difference to him how the room looked. "I don't need that much."

Sure he didn't. It was perfectly normal for a boy his age to have two pairs of jeans, five or six shirts, and a light jacket for a Washington winter. However, I didn't want to push the issue. "We'll decide that when we get there. You need a coat, though, and that is nonnegotiable. We do a lot of outdoor things in this family, and I don't want you to freeze."

"I won't. Anyway, stuff like that costs a lot of money, and I don't have it, so no shopping." He didn't seem the slightest bit upset about it. To him this was just normal.

"Nice try. Social Services will be sending a check with your name on it, specifically for this kind of thing. Go on up and brush your teeth. I'll be waiting." There was no need to tell him that any checks that came for him were going to be deposited in an account that had already been set up in his name. If he did decide to leave when he turned eighteen, at least he wouldn't be without a little bit of money.

There was a pause while Jasper tried to think of another, better excuse. This was one of the most frustrating things about dealing with foster children, especially ones with a patchy history. Did he not want to go because of some sort of trauma? Had Maria said something to him, done something to him, that made him leery of being trapped in a car with her? Or was it just that Jasper, like most males, hated the thought of being forced to model endless outfits while we tried to find things that looked good? I could guess for hours, but unless Jasper suddenly decided to open up, I would never know. Finally, he nodded and vanished from sight. I hoped he was actually up there doing as I asked, because I didn't know if I had it in me to keep pushing.

He was back in under five minutes, apparently eager to get this over with as soon as possible. "I'm ready."

I held the keys out to him. "Would you like to drive?"

Jasper's eyes lit up, going a brilliant shade of green. But then he shook his head. "No, that's all right."

"Do you have a license?" It had never occurred to me that he might not.

"Yes, but I haven't practiced very much. Maria only had the van, and she took it to work every day. I don't want anything to happen to your nice car."

It was the first time he had brought Maria up to me, and I wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't seem aware that he had done it, and I thought that drawing attention to it might cause him to become even more selective with his words. So I said nothing, and let the chance pass me by.

I let him fuss around with the radio on the way to the mall. Whatever he chose to listen to, no matter how horrible, I could put up with it for the ride. After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped on an unfamiliar station, and we both listened in silence. Even then, with just the two of us, Jasper didn't really relax. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but his eyes never closed. Even when he blinked, it was with the barest flutter of his eyelids.

Frantically, I searched my mind for some topic of conversation, something he could possibly be interested in. I discarded idea after idea, dismissing all of them as too personal. But then again, how was I going to learn anything about him if I didn't ask? Legally, I could hold on to Jasper for the next 112 days. Which, in practical terms, meant I had 112 days to figure out how to convince him to stay. With a calm voice that effectively hid my fears, I took the plunge. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Like what? You got the report, didn't you?" The blue-green eyes were boring into me now, trying to figure out what game I was playing.

Yes, I got the report. The report that was no different from the one I had gotten with each of my other kids. The one that glossed over the less pleasant parts and emphasized the positive. It was great to get his medical history, and his birthday, but beyond that, pretty useless. "Ah, but the report doesn't tell me much beyond the basics. If we don't talk now, how will I know any of the important stuff?"

"My medical stuff is in the report. That's really all that's important about me." His tone suggested that he was deadly serious.

How do you respond to something like that? When a seventeen-year-old (and realistically, most seventeen-year-olds think they are the most fascinating things on earth) thinks that the only thing about him worth noting is found in a medical file? But I guessed no one had ever told him different. Other than his mother, had anyone ever thought he was special just because he was Jasper? It was painful to admit, but even his placement with Carlisle and me had been one hundred percent a result of his head injury.

My internal struggle must have played out on my face, because Jasper softened. "What do you want to know?"

How about everything? His favorite color, if he likes Chinese food, just what it is that keeps him up screaming at night. I settled on a safer topic. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He ducked his head, a cute little gesture he seemed to make whenever he was embarrassed. "No." He anticipated my next question. "I've never had a girlfriend."

I wondered if I should ask the next question. "How about a boyfriend?"

For the first time, he laughed. Granted, it was a restrained, breathy little chuckle, but a laugh nonetheless. "No. I'm straight." A light flush had spread across his cheeks.

I took pity on him and moved to safer topics. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Lord of the Rings." He spoke without hesitation. "It's the last movie I saw in the theater."

Wait, he hadn't even been to a movie theater in five years or more? "Really?"

"Uh-huh. I always had to watch the little kids, and I couldn't take them to anything that might scare them. Plus, six or more movie tickets get expensive quick."

I wondered at his nonchalance about it all, his calm acceptance of the parenting role for so many little ones. Would any of my other kids be willing to do that? Rosalie, maybe — she loved kids — but any of the others would have been beating down the door of Social Services and demanding a new placement. How had Maria kept control of Jasper like that? I wondered if I wanted to know.

I was saved from having to answer him by the mall looming up in front of us. I generally only used my handicapped placard when I had to, but today was going to be long and I didn't want to risk being too exhausted to make it to the car at the end of this trip. My companion didn't say a word, just jumped out and ran around to hold the door for me.

Between Alice and Rosalie, I had the mall memorized. I took Jasper to the department store and found the correct department, but he froze once we got there. I could only assume that he was overwhelmed with the choices he suddenly found himself presented with. The mother in me took over, and I picked up a few t-shirts that seemed similar to what I'd seen him wear already. I held one up to his body, to check for size, but he shook his head.

"What's wrong with this one?" If he'd give me a clue as to what he liked, I could find something better.

"I don't like short sleeves." He was turned away from me when he said it, giving me nothing.

Suddenly, it hit me. It was more than him not liking short sleeves. He had scars up and down both arms, round shiny burns that were impossible to mistake for anything but abuse. Whether it were shame or just habit, Jasper wanted to hide those marks. "Because you have scars." The words popped out before I thought.

He startled before looking down at the carpet, head cocked. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah."

I wasn't sure if forcing him to say that were the right thing to do, but I didn't want us to fall into a pattern of dancing around each other and not really communicating, either. The middle of a shopping mall wasn't the right place to have a deep heart-to-heart, but I had to try to get him to talk.

Years of dealing with abused and neglected kids had taught me a few interesting things about their minds. For many of them, the world was such a dangerous and unpredictable place that they lost the ability to think out their actions. Their lives became stimulus-response, stimulus-response, without any conscious thought about why they reacted the way they did. I wasn't going to try and correct any of Jasper's responses, or counsel him out of them, but I did want him to think about and understand why he had them. From his surprised reaction, I guessed he hadn't thought about why he disliked short-sleeved shirts in a long time.

"How about this one?" I held up a black long-sleeved shirt with a white star on the chest. I was pleased when he nodded his approval. "What size?"

He shrugged. I gestured for him to turn around, and checked the tag on the shirt he was wearing. It was the first time I had actually touched him, and his tense muscles betrayed how miserable he found the sensation. It broke my heart to think that even a gentle touch from an adult was too much for him. I located the correct size and held it out. "Try this on, okay?"

He took it without comment, disappearing into the nearest dressing room. I waited outside. And waited, and waited, and waited. It couldn't possibly take him ten minutes to put on a shirt, could it? I wondered if there were more than one entrance to the room, and he had bolted on me. That would be just my luck, to lose him less than twenty-four hours after he was entrusted into my care. Just as I was getting ready to flag an employee to go in after him, Jasper appeared, wearing the shirt I had picked out. It fit him well, just like I had assumed it would. "What were you doing in there?" I kept my tone light and non-accusatory.

"What do you mean?" His voice wasn't angry, either; just curious. "I just changed and came out."

Maybe it hadn't been as long as I had thought. "I . . . never mind. Okay, so we know that fits. Pick out a few more casual shirts and we'll move on to other things."

He chose two more and stopped, his worried eyes tracing my face. Was that too many? Too few? Just right? He didn't know — didn't know anything about me, really — but he desperately wanted to get this right. Whether it were because he wanted to please me, or just the fact that he was terrified of making a mistake, I couldn't know. I reminded myself to be more specific. "Pick five."

He relaxed instantly, glad to know exactly what was expected of him. He spent a surprisingly long time looking at the different shirts, touching them lightly and closely examining the patterns. Either Edward or Emmett would have grabbed the closest five, and all but tossed them at me, eager to be done with the trip. Watching him, I wondered how often he was allowed to choose anything for himself. Eventually, the five shirts were chosen, and he brought me his selections for approval.

A quick check confirmed that there were no obscenities or vulgar prints on them, so I gave my endorsement. "Good. Now for the pants."

This proved to be a bit more complicated, as Jasper was an odd size. He was skinny — almost too skinny — but had surprisingly long legs. For a moment, I wished Alice were with us. That girl had a talent for picking clothing. After much trial and error, throughout which Jasper was exceedingly patient, we were able to find several pairs that would suffice. By that point, we were both getting tired and Jasper was starting to look a little cranky. "How about we stop and get something to eat?"

He brightened instantly and allowed me to lead him to the little deli in the corner of the mall. Jasper perused the menu in silence, more interested in the huge pastry display than the actual sandwiches. He didn't ask for one, though. I was coming to the conclusion that Jasper never asked for anything if he could help it. We ordered, and found a seat near the window. Jasper pointed. "Hey, look, there's the car!"

It surprised me that he could pick the car out from all the others in the lot. He was grinning, seemingly pleased with his own expertise. I fished around in my purse until I found the car keys. "Here. Why don't you take the bags out to the car, so you don't have to carry them around?"

The strange eyes widened and he paused for a minute. "Really?" He took the keys quickly, before I could change my mind. It was only once he was actually out of the restaurant that I realized I had just handed the keys to a high-end automobile to a teenager that I knew nothing about. Well, at least if he took off with it, I would be able to call the police before he made it out of the parking lot.

I watched Jasper's figure walk out to the car. For the first time, I noticed that he limped. It was very, very subtle, but to a good observer, it was clear that his gait wasn't quite normal. I remembered that the report had said he had lingering weakness on his right side, but also that he was left-handed, so it wasn't as big of an issue as it could have been. Easy for the doctors to claim. They weren't going to be enrolled in high school, where even the smallest problem was going to be noticed and commented on.

He put the bags in the trunk, handling them as gently as if they contained crystal instead of clothing. Then he was returning, allowing me to release a breath I was barely aware I was holding. His limp wasn't as obvious when he was coming towards me.

Jasper and the food arrived almost simultaneously, and we were quiet for a few minutes while we arranged our lunches. I felt the weight of his eyes on me, but ignored it in favor of putting mustard on my sandwich. His stare didn't lessen, though, and finally I looked up. "What?"

His eyes met mine and held, his jaw working slightly. Finally he blurted it out. "What's wrong with you?"

I was so startled that it took me a minute to reply. "Excuse me?"

He looked down. "That was rude. What I meant was, how come we get to park in the handicapped space, and you walk funny?"

Apparently, while I was thinking about his limp, he was thinking about mine. "That's a very personal question, Jasper." I don't know why I didn't just tell him. After all, it wasn't a secret, and he was likely to hear it from one of his siblings sooner or later. I was just put off by his directness in asking. Add 'social graces' to his 'working on it' list.

"So's what you keep asking me. You want me to tell you things, but you don't want to have to tell me things back." His eyes were slate grey and fixed on me.

Immediately, I felt a little ashamed of myself. He was right, of course. I was expecting him to be completely open with me, while not giving him anything back. My line of questioning would have been appropriate for a child or preteen, but not for a teenager who was used to acting as an adult already. By virtue of his experiences, Jasper was more of an adult than the others, even if he wasn't physically older, and he deserved to be treated with the respect of one.

I also had a strong suspicion that the reason for his sudden courage and directness was less that he was coming to trust me and more that he felt sure that I wouldn't harm him in a public place. "You're right. I have MS; do you know what that is?"

There was a silence while he thought. "I think so." His tone told me that he wasn't quite sure.

"It's a disease that causes me to have muscle problems. Sometimes I limp, and sometimes I have trouble speaking. Sometimes, like now, I'm perfectly normal." I let the little white lie fall from my lips without guilt. Jasper seemed to worry endlessly, and I didn't want him watching me like a hawk for the rest of the day. He was far too observant as it was.

"Is it going to keep getting worse?" I heard a slight undertone of . . . was it fear? Whatever it was, he hid it well under a mild curiosity.

"It's a possibility, but I've been stable for several years. There's no reason to think that I'm in danger." I tried to keep my tone light.

Though he didn't move, I could almost sense Jasper drawing away from me. He looked down at this untouched food, picking up the sandwich. It seemed that that conversation was over, at least in his mind.

"Jasper, do you have any more questions?" I tried to encourage him as gently as I could. "About anything?"

"No." His voice was very soft, and he refused to look up.

Now seemed like a good time to back off for a little bit and just eat my lunch. Clearly, I had said or done something to upset him, and he probably needed a little time to process it all. At least he hadn't gotten up and stormed out of the restaurant.

It struck me that I suddenly looked like every other mother in this mall: a quiet woman dragging along a surly teenage son. The thought made me smile, which of course Jasper missed, seeing as he was in deep communication with the pattern on his plate.

"Do you want a dessert?" My words were the first spoken in ten minutes or more, and he jumped. His eyes were blank again, not showing me what he was actually feeling. "I'm getting a muffin."

He still didn't speak, but he got up and followed me to the little bakery, pointing at some sort of Danish. With another child, I might have worried about mutism, but I sensed that Jasper was giving all he could at the moment.

We sat back down, and I got another clear look at Jasper's face. He looked absolutely wiped out. His eyes were more darkly circled than ever, and his limp was a little more obvious.

I started to reach for him, but thought better of it. "Do you want to go home?"

"Are we done shopping?" He seemed worried, like he was trying to figure out what he had done wrong. "I didn't think we were done." His breathing quickened, his eyes widening.

For a minute, I was thrown by his sudden shift in attitude. He was clearly on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Five minutes ago, he wouldn't even make eye contact, and an hour ago he had been sulking about having to shop. I would have thought he would be delighted to have the chance to just go home.

"I'm sorry." The words were barely whispered, but I heard him as clearly as if he had screamed. Please don't take me home and hurt me. Whatever I did wrong, I'll fix it, but don't hurt me.

Bile rose up in my throat, but I kept my face blank. He was twice my size, and far stronger, but he wouldn't defend himself. It probably wouldn't even occur to him to try.

I mentally rearranged our plans. "We weren't quite finished, but I thought you looked tired."

"I'm okay." It was clearly a lie, but one I had been expecting. It was too soon for Jasper to willingly admit a weakness to me.

"Then we still need to get you a winter coat. That's the only thing left on the list, except for socks and underwear, and I'm guessing you want to get that stuff yourself."

The sudden redness that spread across his face told me I had guessed right. "Yeah, I can do that."

During our walk to the department store, I noticed something interesting. Jasper was even more withdrawn than he had been before, not talking or even making eye contact. I expected that he was still worried about what would happen when we got home. But even though he didn't want to talk to — or even look at — me, he walked right at my side, occasionally shooting looks at me out of the corners of his eyes. It was a tiny thing, but it was a start.

It was getting close to the end of the season, so all of the winter coats were out and on sale. They took up close to a third of the store, and even I was a little bit overwhelmed. Jasper looked like he wanted to drop through the floor. Just like before, I tried to get him started with a little nudge. "Emmett's coat is blue, and Edward's is red, so pick a different color from those two."

Fully half of the coats were blue, so that cut the choices considerably. "Get something warm, because we camp a lot."

After a full ten minutes' deliberation, he selected two coats and tried them on in front of the mirror. I had to smile to myself as I watched him turn from side to side, preening like any other teenage boy. He turned to me. "Which do you like?"

It had been a long time since any of my kids had cared what I thought. I gestured him forward, and lightly smoothed the coat down over his shoulders. His muscles shuddered under my hands, but he didn't tense up totally this time. "This one. It brings out the green in your eyes."

He turned back to the mirror, checking himself out again, eyes inscrutable. "Okay. This one." Then he gave me one of those timid smiles.

Suddenly, extending the trip was worth it, just to see that tiny quirk of his lips. I smiled back at him. He carefully hung the other coat back up and returned to my side. I had to resist the urge to smooth down his hair, like I would have with any of the other kids. We had made a little progress today, and I didn't want to ruin it.

Jasper was quiet on the ride home, his eyes half-closed. For a few minutes, I thought he slept, which revealed the depth of his fatigue. His chin fell down to his chest, but jerked back up each time. I turned the radio down, in hopes that the quiet would soothe him. If he fell asleep, I could drive around for a bit, or even leave him in the garage for a time. It was heated, so he would be fine. But his nodding never became sleep, the stolen seconds all the rest he was able to get.

The rumble of the garage door brought him out of his trance. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met mine. "Thank you for taking me shopping, and for lunch. It was very nice of you."

"You're welcome." I checked the clock. It was 1:45. "The rest of the kids should be home around 3:30. Why don't you try and get a little sleep? If you wait too long, they'll keep you up until midnight."

He seemed disquieted by the notion, but he nodded anyway. "All right."

I noticed that he hadn't moved. "Can I do anything for you?"

For a full five seconds, he looked at me, his eyes asking for something. But whatever it was, he couldn't make his lips form the words. "No, ma'am." Then he was gone, and I was listening to his heavy, limping tread on the stairs. Though Carlisle was the religious one, I prayed hard that he would be able to get at least a little uninterrupted sleep. Even a few hours would do him good.

Much as it pained me to admit it, I was at the limit of what I could do for Jasper right now. Short of giving him one of his heavy tranquilizers (the dosage was huge for someone his size), which seemed a little excessive for mid-afternoon, I couldn't make him sleep. All I could do was provide him with a safe place to rest, and all the comfort he would accept. But then, maybe that would be enough.