Though some couples handle disagreements well, others have more trouble. Alice and Jasper were on opposing sides yet relied on each other too much to fight anymore. Carlisle and Esme were staying neutral and thus stayed strong. Bella and Edward, however, were another story.

Their suite of rooms on the smaller attic level of the house had been given to them as a tenth anniversary present, and it included Edward's music room, the main bedroom and adjoining bath, and a sitting-cum-dressing room (that Alice insisted she had 'seen' but Bella wasn't so sure). It was in that sitting room that Bella currently was in, lounging on the buttery-soft suede couch with an open copy of Wives and Daughters on her chest and her mind wandering.

It had been nearly a month since Rosalie and Emmett's divorce had been finalized, and they had moved to separate wings of the house. Funny how that movement had seemed to be mirrored in herself and her husband. What with Bella staunchly supporting Rosalie and Edward taking Emmett's side, they had themselves been dealing with tiffs that whole month long, and had just yesterday taken over separate rooms in their suite. Edward hadn't emerged from his music room all day. Normally, Bella would've slipped soundlessly through to door to watch him at his piano far earlier, but no, she wasn't going to give up this time. She'd just stay here in her sitting room, armed with the big pile of books pulled from the library.

But of course every time she opened one, she thought of him. Sense and Sensibility had an Edward in it. The Last Days of Pompeii was written by Edward Bulwer-Lytton. And Heart of Darkness was, of course, Edwardian literature. So now she put Wives and Daughters – the title far too striking – down on her chest and let the last argument of theirs replay itself in her head.

They had both been in the living room, Bella writing a letter to Charlie and Edward idly rolling skeins of yarn into balls for Esme's knitting when Emmett burst in, his face greasy and his cupped palms holding a handful of what looked like brand-new sparkplugs. He shot Edward a pleading glance, and the bronze-haired man smirked and shook his head.

"No," he murmured casually, unraveling a long purple skein, "I'm not helping you."

"Come on," Emmett pleaded. "I've gotta have an accomplice. That way she can't pin it completely on me."

"Exactly why I'm not helping you," Edward explained. "You can make her raise hell all on your own."

Emmett grunted angrily. "At least help me find a hiding place. Where won't she look?"

Alice paused as she passed by the doorway to call in, "I'm not cleaning out the garbage disposal this time."

Emmett's eyes lit up like a schoolboy's, and his voice turned just as dreamy. "Perfect."

And before anyone could speak, he was off. Bella put down her pen and turned away from the desk to give her husband a look.

"What?" Edward asked innocently. "I didn't suggest it."

"Go stop him," she insisted, nodding her head to the door.

He shook his head adamantly. "Absolutely not. He's a big boy."

Bella rolled her eyes and muttered softly, "A big boy who's tearing this family to pieces."

Edward frowned at the ball of yarn in his hands. "Just because you don't agree –"

"Jasper doesn't agree either."

"Yes, and we've all seen the wonders Jasper has done for this family."

She winced. "That was a low blow."

"I was only thinking of last year. Remember the postman in Seattle?"

"Would you stop picking on our brother, please?" Bella shot him a glare, knowing very well that his nitpicky attitude was stemming mostly from tension, not from any anger at her – though the feelings were very hard to keep separate.

"If you do the same," Edward countered. "Darling, you have to understand. Emmett's just being Emmett. You haven't been around long enough to –"

"I've been around plenty long –"

" – long enough to know that this is just his way of making things right. If he begs forgiveness, she'll just hold out to make him beg more. Teasing is the only way it will work, and Rosalie will give in soon enough. She's threatened divorce before. They've even been separated before. Epic fights are what they're known for, just as much as their other, shall we say, epic activities."

Bella tried very hard not to laugh. Here she was, trying to stay mad at him while he was cracking jokes. Honestly, his idiotic ideas about ways to mend a relationship…when did Edward Cullen ever know how to solve such problems?

"Haven't you even stopped to think about Rosalie? Think of all she's done for us, for our family." She gestured towards him, as if counting in the presence of their missing daughter. "How can you let Emmett hurt her like this?"

"Hurt her?" he repeated. "She is the one who asked for the divorce. He's trying to remedy it in the only way that's fixed things in the past."

Bella grabbed her half-finished letter and stood, staring him down. "Well, heaven forbid you think that's the only way to fix things with me."

She turned sharply on her heel and stalked out of the room, speeding up the stairs – all at once immensely grateful for her inhuman swiftness – and shutting herself in her sitting room, where she found herself still locked up over a full day later.

It wasn't that she was really all that mad at Edward, not at all. He was just being so stubborn. His feelings for Rosalie had softened immensely after all her trouble with the change and the baby. Why did he have to be against her now? Rose was doing what she thought was right – and, truth be told, what Bella thought was right too. The problems between the couple had been only getting worse over time, and maybe divorce was the only way to settle it. Not that Bella wanted them to stay divorced. But if Emmett was going to continue being childish and immature, perhaps it was best if they just took a break. An out-and-out divorce sent a severe message to him to get his act together. If only he would get it together faster.

And that was where Edward could come in, if only he would stop being so stoic. His support of his brother could only help him in getting Emmett to see the error of his ways. But no, Edward had to refuse to get involved. Damn him and his Victorian rigidity. Once he made up his mind about something, that was that, and it took nearly moving a mountain – or a cross-continental trip – to change him. And once he was changed, he had such influence and power and care and…

She shut her book with a snap, popping up from her chair for the third time in about an hour and beginning to pace once again. She could go apologize as easy as anything. She could tell him to ignore her dramatics and to forgive her and that maybe they could just ignore the different sides they were on like Alice and Jasper. It wouldn't be hard to just say that, would it? Somehow she found her feet carrying her through the suite to the doorway of his music room and somehow she found her hand raising to knock on the door, nearly there – before she dropped her arm to her side. No, not today. Not yet.


Edward knew she was there, stopped just outside his door. After all these years together, how could he not be aware of her nearly every moment? She was like an extension of him, just as much as his hand was or his arm or his heart. His heart. He smiled gently at that. If his heart was still working, surely every beat would echo her name. That still didn't make her any easier to agree with.

Yes, he was strong-willed. And that had always been a good thing, in his opinion. Unfortunately, that combined with Bella's forthright attitude occasionally did not forebode well for their marriage. They had had their fights in the past – many much worse than this – but this whole nearly-two-days-in-isolation thing was likely one of the most ridiculous ones they had ever had.

Surely she had to see that he was right, that Emmett was right. Rosalie jumping to file for divorce was just as idiotic as this argument he and Bella were currently having. Rose and Emmett had had millions of arguments before. Like he had told Bella, their fights were always of epic proportion. Heaven forbid Rosalie ever did anything on a small scale. Bella must have known that this was just his sister being overdramatic once again and that siding with her was just as absurd as Rosalie's actions alone.

Perhaps the only reason he was siding with Emmett was to make Rosalie a bit upset – but now it was making Bella upset too. He wasn't sure how long he could stand for that to happen. Maybe he should just give in, quit fighting his brother's fight and support his wife and sister instead. Or maybe just proclaim himself neutral territory like Carlisle and Esme. What was the term Bella had once used? Yes, he'd be Switzerland. Neutral and safe.

And invoking the wrath of Rosalie. Or Emmett. Or both combined, good heavens. Edward sighed, stepping away from his piano to clear his head. If he and Bella could just see eye-to-eye, or at least come to some sort of accord. They could hold off arguing as Jasper and Alice were, perhaps, if she would agree to that. He moved towards the door, ready to open it and ask if such an arrangement could be reached – but then his ears heard her soft footfalls as she stepped away, moving back to her room to lock herself up once again. And so he did the same, moving back to his piano to pound out another mournful melody.


Emmett was the strongest one in the house, to be sure, but that still didn't make getting pelted with broken sparkplugs much easier when they were thrown from such a pissed-off woman as Rosalie, a woman who also had pretty fair aim.

"What the fuck?!" He jumped up from his chair as four sparkplugs hit him sharply on the left side. Rosalie stood in the doorway to his room, looking mad enough to spit.

"Ruined!" she shrieked, tossing another sparkplug at him and hitting him square in the temple. "Absolutely ruined!"

"Jesus, Rose, stop!" Emmett held up his arms to shield his face and took two more in the solar plexus.

"Just as soon as you stop being a jackass!" she shouted and tossed the final plug, clocking him in the nose before stamping her foot.

"How do you even know I did it? Where's your proof?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding me? Who else would ruin my brand new sparkplugs by throwing them through the garbage disposal? Only an absolute asshole would do that, and you're the only one living in this house."

Emmett stepped close and stared her down. "I beg to differ. I can think of at least one other living in this house."

She arched a golden eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

"Do I need to remind you what happened to my magazines?"

"I threw them out a window, big deal."

"Then explain how my subscription to Playboy got replaced with Sexy She-Male Monthly."

Rosalie smirked and said nothing.

Emmett choked out a bitter laugh. "I'll take your silence for an admission. Who's the asshole now?"

Her smirk quickly turned to a glare and she jabbed one long, red-painted nail into his rock-hard chest, pushing him back slightly. "Go ahead. Call me all the names you want, Emmett. It's not going to make me take you back."

"Oh, you think I want you back?" He laughed again. "Get it through your pretty blonde head, Miss Hale, I don't have a single problem staying away."

"Then why all the pathetic attempts at getting my attention, hmmm?" She pointed to one of the discarded sparkplugs on the floor. "Admit it. You don't know how you can live without me."

"Without making you want to scream?" he asked with a cocky grin. "Sure, I'll admit it. I love irritating you. I live for it."

"I'll give you something to live for," she threatened, giving him another shove with her manicured hand. Emmett felt the back of his knees hit the footboard of his bed; he had nowhere else to go, and he wouldn't put it past Rose to dig those scarlet nails across his eyeballs.

"Go ahead, babe," he muttered. "Go right ahead and give it to me."

He wasn't quite sure how it happened. He didn't even remember how he got undressed so fast, though maybe the shreds of fabric under the bed explained it later. Whatever it was, it only took four point three seconds before he was thrusting into her, his thick forearms pressed into the mattress on either side of her sinfully gorgeous body while she writhed underneath him, the white expanse of her neck, shoulders, and breasts exposed and inviting. His eyes locked with hers as he slammed into her body, his breathing heavy to match hers but breaking into a deep groan when she tugged him down to her and bit him sharply on the neck. The venom stung like fire and tingled painfully and only made him work faster. The raw, animal feeling of it all tore through him, and he leaned down to sink his teeth into the top of her left breast, a bite for a bite. She'd kill him for it later – but he had left a mark, a permanent one, he knew it. And she'd think of him every time she saw it. A slightly sadistic grin on his face, he pumped into her harder, faster, tugging her leg up onto his shoulder, not caring about the noises he made and the faces he pulled as she tightened around him, finishing hard and bringing him to the brink with her.

They didn't say anything in the moments after. Emmett pulled out gently and fell onto the bed next to her – next to her, but not touching her. Rosalie lay oh so still for a minute or two or twenty…then reached down beside the bed to grab the tatters of her clothes and left the room without a single word.