A/N: This chapter is short, but y'all are sweet. And I love you.

The lives of babies in the womb and out were uncertain. Parents were often advised not to become too fond of their children until they'd reached a more solid age - perhaps three or four. Being a baby was not a safe task by a long shot.

Bearing a child was about as dangerous if not more so. Abortion was common among all classes, though the lower classes tended to die in their attempts more often than the upper classes. Children were to be celebrated but privately, wiser men frowned watching as many women's bellies swelled year after year. Women died in childbirth often, taking their last babies with them.

These thoughts kept Edward awake at night. He sat on the sofa of his room simply staring, watching the fire cast a low orange glow over his pretty wife.

She'd become so essential to him. He wondered when that had happened. He wondered what he would have become if he hadn't found her. She was wiser than he in many ways. He ran nearly ever big decision he made by her, and she always had an opinion, a side he had not considered.

What would he do without her?

Though he was proud of his growing family - he could not wait to meet his child, the child they had created together - he couldn't deny he was terrified of what he stood to lose. In moments of panic, he bargained with any god who would listen that he would never touch his wife again if it meant she would live.

Suddenly too restless - what could he do but let the pregnancy play out - Edward stood and moved quietly out of the room. The dawn was just breaking outside anyway, and it was Christmas Day. He may as well get up.

Edward was vaguely surprised, as he made his way downstairs, to smell coffee in the air and see low lamplight in the living room. He crept quietly forward, leaning against the wall for a moment as he took in the sight before him.

Emmett had turned his favored armchair to the window, and was sitting with his arm crooked, staring outside. The little cooing noises that filled the air alerted Edward to the fact he had Charlotte tucked into his good arm, and he was talking softly to her.

"See, little lamb? I think the lamplighter's job must be the most lonely one in the city. He begins work when the sun goes down - lighting the lamps on the street. His shift ends as the sun comes up and he douses the flames again," he murmured, looking out to where the lamplighter was indeed snuffing the lights that lined their street out one by one.

For a long minute, Edward watched his brother with his daughter, and his heart felt full to bursting. The fervent joy he felt when he truly thought about becoming a father overwhelmed his fear in those moments. A year from now, Charlotte's cousin - his son or daughter - would be about this size, Edward realized. If the doctor was correct the cousins would come within a month or so of sharing birthdays.

What an incredible thing to think when he could not even feel his baby through Bella's skin yet.

Edward retreated to the kitchen, deep in thought about the responsibility that loomed ahead of him. He poured a cup of coffee before joining his brother in the living room, alerting him to his presence this time.

"Couldn't sleep, Brother?" Edward asked easily, turning the chair opposite Emmett to face the window and settling down.

"Miss Charlotte couldn't sleep. And you know me. I never could sleep on Christmas morning," Emmett chuckled. "I decided to give Celie a break - let the poor woman sleep since we could not." He rocked his daughter, looking down on her fondly.

Edward nodded. "It's as good a gift as any for Celie, I suppose." Celie was Charlotte's nursemaid. She was a young negro woman with no family - the only servant they employed who stayed at the house - sleeping in the nursery with Charlotte and Peter.

"Will you take her?" Emmett asked. "I suppose the coffee is cold by now."

"Lukewarm," Edward allowed, standing and retrieving the baby from his brother's arm.

He settled down again, smiling as Charlotte yawned at him, gurgling happily . She was a very pretty baby, he thought. His heart gave a quiet pang as he studied her features, seeing his father in her golden curls and the shape of her nose.

"You're thinking about Father, aren't you?" Emmett asked as he took his seat again. His normal humor was gone from his voice, and the expression on his face was strangely forlorn. "I miss him," he admitted. "Today of all days, I miss him, but..." His brother paused, his eyes straying to his daughter. "I really wish I could talk to him. A lot."

"I know exactly what you mean," Edward muttered.

They were silent for another few minutes before they were joined by a soft, "Good morning." Turning, they found Alice watching them. She held Peter at her hip. The boy looked teary - one hand wrapped up in the yellow sash his father had given him the day they left Houston, three fingers of the other hand shoved into his mouth.

The siblings readjusted themselves, going to sit together on the couch. Peter tapped himself and pointed to the baby several times until they wedged him between Alice and Edward so he had ready access to Charlotte. Patting the baby seemed to cheer him slightly.

"I miss Papa," Alice said, her voice strained by sadness.

Emmett wrapped his good arm around his little sister, and Edward laid his head on her shoulder. They all sat there for a time - four children missing their fathers on Christmas morning.

~0~

Despite their heavy hearts in the pre-dawn hours, Christmas was, as it was meant to be, a joyful time. The family breakfasted together - Emmett and Edward equally amused when Bella had a double serving of eggs.

Once the sun was stronger in the sky, Peter became noticeably restless, straining for the family room where the Christmas tree sat, beset with presents.

The adults enjoyed Peter's joyful squeals as he tore through finely wrapped gifts to get to the prize. By far, he was most spoiled, though Charlotte came a close second. Charlotte was much more interested in the velvety ribbons, enjoying stuffing them in her mouth. Esme commented that the following year, she would be much more interested in her gifts. Edward, his arm wrapped tightly around his wife, shared a private smile with Bella, thinking that it would be their baby giggling amidst the brightly colored wrapping paper then.

The adults' exchange was a little more sedate.

Emmett was supremely satisfied with the fine, aged brandies Edward had gifted him with. He was almost giddy about the fact his new home - which stood to be completed in the coming weeks - had a built in bar area off his study.

Edward had gifted Rosalie and his mother both with a fine set of combs and perfumes he'd had shipped over from the finest shops in London. Esme protested at the lengths he'd gone to, but he'd waved his hand. It had been too many years since he was able to celebrate a proper Christmas with his family.

He watched Alice's eyes light up as she opened a huge box with two brand new dresses in a new style he had - to that point - forbidden her to wear. It showed too much of her shoulders for his liking, but she gave a cry like she was sixteen again, hugging him fiercely, so he thought it was an allowable concession.

Bella's gift was simplest - at a glance, anyway - but her face lit up when she unwrapped it. "Oh, Edward! Jacob spoke about this book just last week at the ball," she exclaimed. Her obvious delight kept the grimace at the mention of the other man's name off his face.

"What is it?" Esme asked, curious.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Bella said excitedly. "The book came out last month. "It's said to be just fabulous."

"You didn't tell me you'd hired someone to write your biography, Alice," Emmett teased, and Alice snickered.

Edward beamed, happy at Bella's obvious happiness. She kissed his cheek - though he had no doubt she would have thanked him much more emphatically if they weren't in polite company. "This is perfect. Thank you." She grinned at him. "Here I was afraid you were going to be extravagant."

He chuckled. "Well, of course I'm going to be extravagant," he admonished.

Cocking her head, Bella looked at him with a perplexed expression.

"Open the book," he prompted.

As she obeyed, a folded up paper fell out of it. She frowned, picking it up and smoothing it out. Her eyes went wide as she realized what it was. "Edward," she gasped. "This is-"

"Don't say it's too much," he warned. "It's only a very small addition - hardly anything at all."

Leaning over, Esme held her hand out. "May I see that, dear?" When Bella handed the blueprints over, she smiled. "Oh, this is lovely. It's a new addition to the sitting room - a little nook with a window seat and new book shelves," she explained to the others.

"Yes, and you may fill those shelves with as many books as you can buy," Edward declared primly. "Starting with that one."

Bella's eyes shone, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him in earnest despite their audience. "You're too good to me," she whispered in his ear.

He shook his head, holding her tightly, splaying one hand over her stomach. "You've given me everything. This is only the least I could give you."

~0~

As afternoon began to bleed into evening, Edward wandered into the living room, finding Peter curled up in the chair Emmett had left by the window. It was the fourth time that day the toddler had wandered alone into the living room, staring out the window. The little boy looked somewhat forlorn as he scratched a few random lines on the chalkboard he held on his lap - part of a gift from Edward of things he would need to begin his schooling.

"Hey, buddy," Edward greeted softly. Peter stared up at him, biting his lip. "How are you doing?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders, going back to staring out the window. Edward noticed he still had his father's sash wound around his entire arm.

Carefully, Edward picked the boy up - chalk, chalkboard and all - sitting down and settling him on his lap. He cuddled the boy since he seemed to need it. "You miss your Papa, don't you?" He'd wondered if the little boy realized he was missing a gift from his father when he opened presents. It wasn't like Jasper not to send something, but Edward thought his gift might be as of yet undelivered.

Of course, Peter said nothing, but he did let the chalkboard drop as he turned to bury his face in Edward's shirt. Edward caught the thing before it fell to the ground. He propped his feet up on the windowsill, unwinding a piece of chalk from Peter's hand.

They sat for a time together. Edward drew funny things with the chalk, making up stories about bunnies and bears for the child's amusement. Eventually, seeming cheered, Peter took the board back, trying his own hand. He would scrawl some childish chicken-scratch on the board, looking up to Edward for approval and a new story whenever he was done.

In between, Edward would lapse into silence, his thoughts meandering. He thought about his newest investment: a fledgling little newspaper, and the tenement building that would break ground in the Spring. He thought about his brother's new home. He thought of how his life had changed several times this year alone and wondered what the new year would bring.

His thoughts continuously circled back to one fact: he would be a father in the coming year. And again, he wondered how he could hope to be half as good as his own father had been.

He stared out the window sightlessly. This winter had been relatively mild. Snow was drifting down now, peppering the lawn with random bits of white. It wasn't the kind of snow that one could have any fun in. It was his intention to take Peter out sledding at the first good snowfall.

In Christmases past, he remembered the front yard being blanketed with snow. His mind conjured up the image of one Christmas when Alice had been a toddler, for she stayed in Esme's arms on the porch as Carlisle played with his boys and their new sled. He remembered Carlisle showing him how to roll a snowball to start a snowman, and remembered the snowball fight that ensued when Emmett got bored of stacking snowballs and began throwing them.

Edward was startled out of his memories when the child on his lap gave a cry. Before Edward could figure what was happening, Peter began to wiggle, desperate to be out of his arms. "Peter, what-"

But he was interrupted by a sound he'd never heard before - the high pitched voice of a little boy. "Papa!" Peter cried, pushing at Edward's chest, trying to find leverage to escape his hold.

For a long moment, Edward only stared dumbly.

Of course, when they first arrived, Esme had insisted that Peter be taken to the best doctors to see about his missing voice. There was nothing to be said. As Edward already knew, there was nothing wrong with the boy's throat or vocal chords. Bella had already told him he spoke some words before his mother was murdered before his eyes but hadn't spoken at all since then. He would find his words with time, or he wouldn't. Edward was long used to the boy's silence; Peter communicated just fine.

So at first, Edward couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"Papa, Papa, Papa!" Peter insisted, grunting as he struggled to free himself.

Still in a state of shock, Edward released him. Instantly, Peter wiggled to the floor and darted in the direction of the front door.

That was when Edward finally stared back outside to the front walk. There was a figure there he hadn't noticed, and it took him a moment to recognize who was standing just inside the gate, looking up at the house with uncertainty.

Even with his heavy winter coat, Edward could see he was thinner. It had been less than six months since he'd last seen his old friend, but that time had changed him, aged him. "Jasper," he muttered in shock.

He stood quickly, going into the entry hall where Peter was standing on his tiptoes, trying to get the door to work with his uncoordinated, over-excited hands. By that time, his continued exclamations and cries of, "Papa! Papa! I'm coming, Papa!" had drawn the rest of the family. They all stared at him with wide eyes.

The minute that Edward reached down, opening the door, Peter was off like a shot. For once, none of the adults warned him about not going into the bitter cold without his jacket or shoes on. They didn't warn him to be careful lest he slip on the path. And though he was as clumsy as any three year old, Peter didn't falter as he ran.

The man at the end of the walkway dropped the two bags he'd been holding and sprinted up the walk, meeting the toddler partway. He dropped to his knees just as Peter launched himself into the air. Jasper caught him easily, and for a long moment they only held each other tightly.

Edward only tore his eyes away from the beautiful sight when he felt a tug on his arm. Bella was there, tears streaming down her cheeks, handing him his coat and Peter's. Stooping quickly to kiss her cheek, he murmured a thanks, slipping into the coat as he stepped outside.

Peter was sobbing, his little shoulders shaking as he cried, clinging to his father's neck. He cried out in protest when Jasper tried to hold him at arm's length.

"Shh, shh," Edward was close enough to hear Jasper murmur now. "It's okay, baby boy. I'm here. I'm here now." He raised a shaking hand to the boy's cheek, just staring at him for a long moment. When Peter shivered in the bitter cold, his teeth chattering, Jasper quickly opened the front of his jacket, pulling the little boy tight against his body before he wrapped it around him again.

It seemed to Edward that the blond man was close to tears, but when Peter began to babble again, he couldn't hold them back. "Papa, I love you. I love you, Papa," Peter said between gasping sobs.

"You're talking? I..." He shook his head, holding his boy close, shaking off his glove so he could run his fingers through Peter's hair. "I love you, too." He sat back, heedless of the fact the snow must have been soaking into his pants. He drew his legs up close, holding and rocking his boy.

It was many long minutes before Jasper looked up at all. His eyes darted, first up at Edward and then to the porch where the rest of the family must have gathered by then. He took a deep, steadying breath, rising with Peter still held tight in his arms.

For a few heartbeats, the two men regarded each other. Edward could see indecision and what looked suspiciously like shame dart across Jasper's features.

Edward smiled tightly, stepping forward to drape Peter's jacket over his shoulders. To Jasper he simply said, "Welcome to my home. Come inside. There's still some Christmas dinner left. "

Jasper smiled uncertainly, burying his head against Peter's hair. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you," he said simply. He frowned, looking over his shoulder at his abandoned bags.

"I'll get them," Edward said quickly, realizing Jasper didn't want to let Peter go yet. "Go inside."

Jasper's smile was a little more genuine then. "Thank you," he said again, his voice shaking with emotion. He kissed the side of Peter's cheek and turned toward the house.

A/N: Thanks so much to jfka06, barburella, and GinnyW. MWAH.

Sooooo. Jasper's back in the picture. Whatever will happen now?