A/N: Welcome to the Interludes. Like Shakespeare, when there is a comedic scene in between otherwise bleak acts.

First up is Quil, written by Hyacinthed. (I was that person who shows up to the group project and contributes nothing.) She says, 'The page editor may have closed on chapter 42, but my spidey senses insisted there was more fun to be had, and so chapter 42.5 was born: Quil, bumbling his way through his first (unofficial) diplomatic mission.'

Interlude 1: Quil

aka

Make the Dog Testify

"Are you going to tell him?" Bella asks in a shaking voice, her arms curled tightly around her knees.

(Jacob will probably kill me for letting her put her feet on the seats, but I don't want to deal with more tears, not after the bet has been conclusively lost.)

"I mean, he can read minds, right?" I say, knowing he can pluck memories from brains like feathers from a Thanksgiving turkey. "I'm not sure I can help you there."

Bella clutches my right hand desperately, almost yanking it clear off the gearstick. "You can think of something different. I know that Jake's done that, and it works. Think…think about patrol or something. Please. I need you to help me."

I can feel her glassy eyes burning two perfect circles in the side of my head, but it's not entirely bad. Trepanation would almost be a relief compared to the too-long drive to Forks, a drive in which Bella pretends that this whole awkward situation is anything but her fault. With the Forks welcome sign in sight, her heartbeat ratchets up to a million beats per minute, thrumming like it's on the verge of beating out of her chest. Maybe I'd feel bad for her if I hadn't inadvertently signed up for an all-access subscription to The Bella Show with bonus commentary from Leah, as if I wasn't enough of a third wheel in my own life.

She was OK before the Italy trip.

Then, Bella Swan became one of those travelling really changed me as a person types, which was almost more painful than being roped into defending the Rez from a medieval-style vampire crusade.

"Look, I'll try," I say half-heartedly, trying to focus simultaneously on parking just behind the treaty line and on recalling last night's trial-by-combat involving Jared and Paul.

If I concentrate really hard, I can almost see Jared's face, flushed red from a too-tight Lahote signature headlock. Normally, wagers are begrudgingly settled while the winners gloat, proud of their handful of dollars or patrol trade-off, resolved in an almost amicable fashion.

Yesterday was not one of those occasions.

Paul, having won a tidy five dollars and fifteen cents (the entire contents of Jared's wallet) on the matter of whether Embry would show up on time for patrol (he didn't), hulked out at the sight of Jared's gym sock stuffed full with nickels and dimes.

Naturally, this could only be resolved with violence, specifically with Paul using his winnings as a slungshot.

Somehow, I manage to keep a straight face as I park the Rabbit, reluctantly killing the ignition and clambering out of the car. I may be many things, but a poor babysitter is not one of them.

Bella drags her feet as she follows me to the treaty line, pointedly avoiding Edward's searching gaze. I'm sure he's rifling through his mental Rolodex in search of the best interrogation tactic to use on me to find out how today went but, unfortunately for him, I have a steel-trap mind. Not even a beating with a slungshot could crack me.

"Bella. Quil," he says evenly, extending his hand to Bella. "Esme is making lasagne."

Bella's brow crinkles. "Esme's cooking?"

Edward's mouth is set in an inscrutable line. "Alice had a vision of a family meeting. I didn't want you to be hungry."

Her face turns as white as a sheet, save for the faint pink blotches on her right cheek.

Edward's pale golden eyes dart to mine, ostensibly searching my mind for an explanation.

Jared squealed like a stuck pig when the sock clipped him on the back of his knee, but I'm pretty sure that was just to distract Paul. Jared's normally a much better fighter, even if Paul has a weight advantage -

"What did you two get up to today?" Edward asks suspiciously, tilting his head.

The garage flashes through my mind quicker than I can conjure Paul's bellowing curses.

I try and squash it down, but Bella's sharp inhalation of breath, coupled with her speeding heartbeat, does little to distract my mind.

The kiss.

The slap.

The tears.

The fact that I lost my last fifteen dollars.

Edward's granite hand slithers into his jeans pocket, extracting an embossed leather wallet. He silently slips out a single Benjamin, extending it over the treaty line.

My face blanches. "I don't have change -"

"No change. Honesty doesn't come cheap," he says stoically, his gaze fixed on Bella, who seems determined to avoid this entire situation.

I take the bill, stuffing it into my jorts pocket.

"Let's go, Bella," Edward murmurs, gesturing towards the Volvo. "It looks like we have some things to discuss."

Bella sinks into my side like she's trying to disappear from view. "I think I want to go home."

"We can talk at your house," Edward says calmly, though his golden eyes betray his vexation. "Whatever you decide, my love."

"I want Quil to come," she blurts, her fingers wrapped around my bicep like a shackle.

"What?" I yelp, attempting - and failing - to dislodge myself from her grasp. "No, Bella, I'm not -"

"Please," she begs, giving me one of those wide-eyed looks that Jacob used to go absolutely stupid for.

"I suppose Esme will have made enough lasagne to feed an army. Will you allow Quil to drive you?"

Bella nods jerkily, still cowering at my side.

Why did I agree to this?

"Once you've eaten, you can return home," Edward promises.

Maybe it's the slightly maniacal gleam in his eye or the way that Bella is literally shaking, but somehow I find myself nodding.

"One plate," I declare, jutting my head towards the Rabbit. "Let's go. I forgot to set the DVR and Mom will be pissed if she misses One Life to Live."

"Quil, I need to tell you something -"

I groan, cranking the Rabbit's janky steering to make the sharp turn into the Cullen driveway. "Please don't."

"Edward proposed this morning."

"He did what?" I shriek, my pitch surely breaching falsetto territory. "And you're telling me now?"

"What if he asks for the ring?" Bella whispers.

I neglect to mention that the Cullens can almost certainly hear us from inside the house.

"Do you have the ring?"

She digs around in her pocket while I park crookedly by their garage, wishing I'd paid attention for more than five seconds in Drivers' Ed.

Bella presses the ring into my palm, my fingers instinctively closing around the cool metal. One glimpse of the gigantic sparkly monstrosity tells me everything I need to know.

"Hope he has the receipt," I say, making my way to the front door. "Damn, that lasagne smells delicious."

With the entire Cullen family gathered around the massive dining room table, their expressions ranging from polite curiosity to total bewilderment, I could almost imagine this as a different kind of gathering.

Monsters Anonymous, maybe.

Pacific Northwestern Parasites?

Edward chokes out a startled laugh, abruptly cutting off after a sharp glare from the pixie.

"Really, Alice?" Edward mutters, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Emmett huffs. "I hate it when you guys do that."

Rosalie scoffs, running her long fingers through her smooth corn silk hair. "Face it, Emmett, they aren't going to stop. Don't buy into their little games."

Edward clears his throat. "Quil is here as a favour. He witnessed something…unexpected."

"Let me guess," Rosalie simpers, leaning her delicate elbows on the table. "Jacob learned to roll over."

I almost choke on my mouthful, gratefully taking an already filled glass of water from Esme's outstretched hand. "That's a good one."

Carlisle studies me from across the table, his golden eyes unblinking in his scrutiny. "What exactly did you see today?"

I glance at Bella out of the corner of my eye, silently begging her to confess.

I don't even know these people.

"I kissed Jacob," she says finally, her voice almost inaudible.

For a moment, nobody speaks. The only person that seems distressed - aside from Edward, obviously - is Alice, presumably because she literally couldn't see it coming.

"Well, you know what they say," Emmett starts, barely holding in a laugh. "Try before you buy."

(Esme sends me on my way with tinfoil-covered lasagne. I'm intrigued by the WWE-style conflict resolution strategies Edward is working through, but I have places to be.

Also, One Life to Live is on in thirty minutes. Considering I'd like to have a life to live, I need to be in La Push, stat.)