A/N: I think I missed answering a few questions last update. If you're still confused about something, let me know. I'm sorry. When I get them when I'm in class or in a meeting or something, I occasionally forget to answer when I get back to a stationary spot.

Bella - Age 17

"Fuck."

Bella's heart twisted as she watched her best friend. He held one hand with the other and was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing at the tattoo that had appeared there overnight. The thing took up the whole backside of his left hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his voice cracking at the end.

Unable to take it, Bella grasped his right wrist, topping the frantic motion. "Jakey, stop. You know it's not coming off."

He bent over, stooped in misery. He tangled his hands in his long black hair and started to rock. His breath hitched as though he were trying not to cry. Bella rubbed his back. "Maybe makeup will work."

"It won't," Jacob said with a moan. "There's no way everyone would miss that. And it rubs off. I'd have to cake it on like ten times a day, and if my dad found out I was using makeup on top of the fact I have Paul's tattoo..." He shuddered, groaned, and slumped so low, his head was almost between his knees.

Bella searched for something to say, but it was an impossible situation. She was pissed off at the world and at Jacob's father and Paul. She really had the urge to beat the hell out of Paul.

Here was the thing. Bella had known for a couple of years now that Jacob was gay. It was a fact he kept to himself. They lived in a small town not known for its tolerance of that kind of thing. Jacob had been terrified for a long time, knowing his father wasn't going to take the news very well. He tentatively planned to come out to his father toward the end of college, so he could get an education before he was tossed out on his ass.

Then, there was Paul. Jacob would say that he and Paul had a complicated relationship. Bella had never thought it was that complicated. Paul was a dick, plain and simple. All this school year, whenever he and Jacob were alone, he'd touch him and kiss him. Every single time, he ended up pushing Jacob away, saying something like, "What are you a fag? Cut it out," or simply pretended it hadn't happened.

About a month ago, Paul had coaxed Jacob into his bed. Again, every time, as soon as they were done, he told Jacob to get the hell away from him. "I ain't gay, prick."

Bella bumped Jacob's shoulder with hers and tried for a joke. "You have really bad taste in men, you know that?"

He snorted and sniffed. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Bella picked up his palm—when had his hands gotten so big—and examined the shape. "This sucks. The placement, I mean." So many tattoos were discreet or in places no one could see. Then again, Jacob was fond of being without his shirt as much as possible. That left a large area of skin exposed regardless. The odds were against him having a tattoo anywhere someone couldn't see.

"Paul is going to kill me. He'll get Jared and Sam to help," Jacob muttered. "And then Dad will kick my beat up carcass out of the house."

"Then you'll come live with me."

"Yeah, I'm sure your mother and Phil would love that. Besides, it's not like you have room for me."

"Jake, no one has room for you." Bella bumped his side again. "Maybe your dad will surprise you."

"Right," Jake muttered.

After a few moment's silence, Bella rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand. "You know what I wish?"

"What?"

"I wish these stupid ass tattoos weren't about like...in love, love. I think that's too easy, you know? And if we have to wear the marks of the people we've loved on our bodies, I wish it could be a better kind of love. I'd like my mother and father." She squeezed his hand. "And you."

He sighed. "Yeah, Bells. I could get behind that. I'd wear your tattoo proudly."

"You know I'll love you forever, right?" Bella asked. "No matter what."

"Yeah. Me too."

Edward - Age 27

Edward had to take a deep breath before he got out of the car. As much as he loved his family, he was dreading having to answer their questions. He sighed, looking over to where his brother's car sat parked. Double trouble. Emmett might not notice, but his wife, Rosalie, certainly would say something. She always did.

Not for the first time, Edward felt a rush of resentment toward his wife. Immediately, he admonished himself. It wasn't like Tanya was off fucking around. She was working.

She was always working.

Most days, it seemed overdone. It was impossible that a person couldn't take some days off. If she worked every damn Saturday, she could miss one every now and again, couldn't she? They weren't destitute. She wasn't working the hours because they were struggling to put food on the table. At this point, her company bent over backward to keep her happy. Surely one Saturday a month—hell, he'd take every other month—wasn't a lot to ask. She didn't need to be there every minute. That was what underlings were for.

Edward did his best to shake all that, and his automatic defensiveness, off before he turned the knob, letting himself into his childhood home. "Hey, it's me," he called.

Instantly, there was a racket of shouting voices and running feet. His four-year-old niece, Vera, was in the lead, followed closely by his three-year-old nephew, Henry. "Uncle, Uncle, Uncle," they chanted, both flinging themselves at him.

"Kiddos!" He swung them around so they giggled.

By the time he set them back down, his mother had appeared in the foyer. "Edward." She kissed his cheek. Her eyes flicked quickly out the open door behind him. "No Tanya today?"

Already it started. Edward did his best to put on a chipper smile. "Huge system crash at work. The whole place would crumble in flames if it wasn't for her."

"Apparently. Their system crashes every other week. One would think they'd upgrade it," Esme said, not unkindly. She rubbed his back. "Well, more steak for us. Come on back."

It took an hour or so, but Edward let his guard down. Emmett was too eager for a game of basketball to care much about where Tanya was, and Rosalie, pity for her, had called in sick.

"Sick, sick or sick pregnant?" Edward asked, glad he could kid his brother for once.

"Dude. Dude." Emmett gave an exaggerated shudder. "Low blow, man. Too soon."

To his everlasting surprise, it was his father who sprang the trap Edward had been waiting for. He had always expected it would be his mother.

He and Tanya had married when they were eighteen, over Esme's vehement protest. Edward called her a hypocrite. She had married Carlisle when he was eighteen and she was twenty.

"I know," Esme had said. "I know what it sounds like to you. But honey, I'm speaking from experience. Oh, this is hard to explain.

"It's not to say that young love can't work. It can. Obviously, it can. It's just that no one remains who they were when they were eighteen."

"Yeah, Mom, but you work to change together. Keep paddling in the same direction. Together," Edward had argued. "I know how a strong marriage works. I had a great example."

She'd sighed. "I appreciate that, sweetheart. I do, and I'm glad of it. It's just that you don't know the whole story. It was before you were born. Your father and I grew apart."

That had stunned him. "What?"

"We split up." Her expression was forlorn. "It was inevitable, really. His parents paid to keep him in school. He was growing, learning, discovering new things about the world and himself. I was working all sorts of crazy hours trying to earn enough to go to college myself, and then we had Emmett. I resented him. He wasn't the man I'd fallen in love with." She tapped his father's tattoo on her wrist. "I thought, when this appeared, that it was a promise. It's not. It only means I fell in love with your father."

"But you worked it out."

"Yes and no." She smiled at his perplexed look. "Our first marriage didn't work out at all. We spent a year apart. Emmett was just a baby, so he doesn't remember. We were so angry, we exchanged him for visits through your grandparents. We didn't even see each other.

"Then, a mutual friend of ours got sick. We both promised to be there for her, of course. I think that was her plan, because she seemed to leave us alone for long periods of time while she had treatments. We started talking, and discovered that the people we'd become actually had a lot in common—more than we had when we first got together." She grinned at her son. "I felt cheated that I didn't get another tattoo." She traced her fingers where Carlisle's tattoo marked her body. "I always did love his tattoo. I wouldn't mind having it twice. But then, if a new one appeared every time I fell freshly in love with him, I'd be covered from head to foot."

But of course, Edward had married Tanya anyway. They'd been careful to be good, supportive partners. They both went to school and were understanding of each other's needs for space or affection or space or a shoulder to cry on or space.

Tanya had always needed a fair amount of space. That was okay to an extent. Edward appreciated the fact he could make friends in college, and she never minded when he wanted to hang out with them. Tanya preferred their apartment and her books. Edward had always been good at school. He rarely needed to study. Tanya needed to study a lot.

A lot of study turned into a lot of work. Rather than make her a dull girl, Tanya lit up. Edward still loved to see her happy. She was one of those few people who got to do what she loved and get paid for it. It was her hobby, her passion, her life.

Whenever Edward tried to understand what was so great, what made her face light up like that, she seemed to clam up. "It would just frustrate me, Edward. You wouldn't understand. It's not your thing."

Now, his father drew out confessions the same as he had when Edward was a small child. Carlisle listened, effectively letting Edward hear from his own lips what his family had been trying to tell him for years.

"Edward, there's something to the fact you don't have to share your spouse's passion. But you know, there's something to trying every once in awhile. Your mother thinks my love of cars is ridiculous."

"Yeah, you have me and Emmett to go to shows with. Mom never goes," Edward said.

"No, but she does find a way to connect with me." A familiar, adoring grin tugged at the corner of Carlisle's mouth. "Occasionally, she makes plans for us for the weekend. Some tiny town in a picturesque setting where there's a classic car show. She likes taking rides in classic cars, with the top down, of course. She'll listen to me prattle about anything as long as she has the wind in her hair."

"She's working a weekend, Dad. That should be a commendable thing. Her work is important to her."

"Yes, and your family is important to you." His father eyed him. "I can see that it's difficult for you to make excuses for her. You want her here. I'm not the kind of person who thinks spouses should cater to each other's every whim, but you wouldn't be wrong to talk to her. It should be important to her because it's important to you. Just like her job is important to you because it's important to her."

"Dad—"

"I love Tanya, Edward. I do. Your mother and I...we just want you to have a happy life. That's all."

Edward sighed. "I know, Dad."

A/N: As promised, ducks, Edward and Bella should be in the same chapter next time. :)