A/N: Ok, I completely acknowledge the fact that I already have three or four stories already in progress. But if I didn't get this one started, my brain was going to explode!

"Emma, I don't know why you have to be so difficult every time I want to take the kids!" Phil shouted at his soon-to-be ex-wife. She rolled her blue eyes at him; if anyone was being difficult right now, it was him. Why was it so hard for him to understand that she was the one who took care of the kids while he was off being a 'wrassler'? He couldn't just show up and take them when he wanted to; there had to be structure or there would be chaos. Phil thrived on chaos anytime and anywhere, while Emma preferred to keep the kids' schedule structured but her own life, when she was away from the children, chaotic. Since her and Phil had separated, she's found a fondness for alcohol and cigarettes and staying out all night with her girlfriends at the bar. She had been married to Phil for eight, almost nine, years and was done. She was ready to hit the dating scene again, whether he liked it or not.

"I'm not being difficult, Phil, I'm just telling you that I already had made plans for them to go to my mom's house this weekend. You can't just show up here and decide that you want them when it fits into your schedule."

"Damn it, Emma. That's not true and you know. I have every right to see those kids-"

"I'm not saying you don't! I'm all saying is that you should give me some notice before-"

"I shouldn't have to give you 'notice' if I want to see my kids!"

"Stop yelling at me!" she shouted.

"I'm not yelling at you!" he shouted back. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard a click and the line went dead.

Emma hung up the phone, leaving Punk to stare at it; he thought about throwing it against the wall, but then he would have to venture into society and buy a new one. Damn her. She was being difficult. They were almost to the end of their court ordered separation and then the divorce would be final. He didn't want it to be over; he still wanted to be married to her. He wanted to be a family with her and their three kids—Jack, Josh and Jenna.

Punk and Emma had gotten married in a spur of the moment ceremony when she was 19 and he was 25; their first kid came shortly after they were married. She was bound and determined to marry the straight edge man just to spite her mom, and it worked. Her mom refused to speak to her until Jack was born; being a grandmother won out over being angry that her daughter had married someone like Phil.

They lived fast, but without drugs or alcohol; they went out all the time to clubs to listen to the greatest bands that Chicago had to offer and she would come on the road with him and stay up all night debating politics and history with him and Scott. That's how they liked to do things back then. But now, now all they did was argue, mostly about his chosen profession and his inability to keep his mouth shut.

Punk sighed and redialed the number to his former home. When they had started the court ordered separation, the judge ruled that he had to move out of his own house. That irritated him to no end; he knew that when the kids were gone for the weekend or at school, she was having random men over or her stupid mindless girlfriends were over drinking wine and badmouthing him as a husband. Emma did things just to grate on his nerves; it was something that she did very well and she knew it. She was his weakness; he was strong in every other aspect of his life except when it came to her and the kids. She knew this and she used it against him every chance she could.

After three rings someone finally picked up. It was his oldest son, Jack. They had just celebrated Jack's eighth birthday at a strained birthday party at home. It was awkward for Phil because he had to constantly remind himself not to touch Emma or to get too close to her; she would scream if he did. She didn't want him to ever touch her again, she wanted her freedom from him.

"Hey, buddy."

"Hey, dad."

"Is mom around?" Phil asked as he started pacing around his small apartment, longing for the days when he had a five bedroom house on the nice side of Chicago.

"Um...I think so. Let me go check," Jack said quietly. His son set the phone down. Phil listened carefully and could hear Emma talking about not wanting to speak with him right now.

"Mom's busy right now. She wants to know if you can call back?" Jack said sadly.

"Jack, I don't want to put you in the middle of this, but please tell your mother that I'm on my way over and I suggest that she be there. See you soon, son."

"Ok, bye, dad."

Jack hung up the phone and turned to his mom. "What did say?" Emma asked as she folded laundry.

"Um. That he was on his way over and that you should be here..."

Emma let out a small scream of frustration. "All right. Why don't you go help Josh and Jenna get their overnights bags ready for grandma's house?" Jack nodded and went upstairs to help his little brother and sister. Sometimes it felt like Jack was taking on more responsibility at eight years old than he should. His little brother Josh was five and Jenna had just turned three; Jack took care of them in the morning when mom didn't feel good—he made them cereal and helped picked out their clothes. He even brushed Jenna's hair sometimes, when she would let him. Jack didn't tell his dad that he did these things; at his young age, he already knew that it would just start a shouting match between his parents, and then he and his siblings would get shipped off to grandma's house for a few days while mom calmed down. He did tell his Uncle Scott about it once. But Scott swore he wouldn't tell his dad. Scott wasn't really his uncle, he was dad's best friend and Jack knew he could trust him with secrets like this. He just wished that he didn't have to keep secrets from his dad. He wanted his mom and dad to be back together and happy as they were before. Something changed with mom after Jenna was born, and he had no idea why mom changed like she did; all he knew is that the new change in mom, made dad real mad and that he couldn't live with them anymore.

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"Emma, answer the damn door!" Punk shouted. She knew he was there and she was refusing to answer. He stood there for another five minutes looking like an idiot before he finally sighed and used his key to unlock the door. She would be pissed that he did that, but this still legally his house.

He walked into the living room and let out a groan. Beer bottles left over from who knows when were still on the coffee table and there were toys everywhere. Sometime around the time Emma decided she wanted to break up, she stopped being the good housewife and keeping the house tidy. Punk picked up the beer bottles and headed into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, texting away furiously on her phone. He threw the bottles in the garbage and pulled out a chair next to her. She immediately moved away from him.

"Didn't you hear me knocking on the door?"

"Yeah, that's why I didn't answer it," she said sharply.

"Emma...why do we do this? Why is it always the same thing over and over again with me and you?"

Emma rolled her eyes and left the table. Phil followed her. "Why are you following me?" she growled as she suddenly turned around to glare at him.

"Because I was still talking to you, that's why!"

"Don't start, Phil," she warned.

"I'm not starting!" he yelled back.

"Yes you are! It's the same thing every time!"

Upstairs Jack was just finishing up packing Jenna's over night bag when he heard his mom and dad start yelling at each other. "Daddy's here?" Jenna asked excitedly.

"Sounds like it. Maybe we should wait few minutes before we go downstairs."

"They're fighting again," Josh said sadly as he sat on the floor and played with his wrestling action figures. Dad had gotten them for him for Christmas last year and Josh loved them.

"I know. Maybe they'll stop soon," Jack said optimistically.

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"I'm taking the kids this weekend, Emma," Phil said sternly as he watched his wife dig through her closet, looking for something to wear tonight when she went out with her girlfriends.

"I already told you, they're going to my mom's house. Have you been hit in the head too many times to remember things, Phil?" she said snarlingly as she turned to glare at him. She hadn't minded when he was an indy wrestler because his shows were always within eight hours of Chicago. But since he had hit it big with the WWE, he was gone four days at a time, and when he was home, he needed a day or two to rest and recover before he went out and did it again, leaving only one or two days for his wife and kids.

"Stop, Emma," he warned.

"Whatever..." she said as she went back into the closet, ignoring him, hoping he would just go away if she ignored him long enough.

"You know something, darling? This new attitude of yours lately really sucks and I'm pretty sick of it. What happened to the girl I married? Huh? What happened to my Emmy-Sue?"

She stopped what she was doing and froze. He was the only person in the entire world that called her Emmy-Sue. It was a nickname he only called her when he was being romantic. Flashbacks of the heated love making sessions they used to have flashed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed them. Their trial separation was almost over; there was no use in thinking about the past anymore. It was over.

"You have no right to call me that anymore," she said quietly as she finally found the perfect dress for tonight; it was short and red and would make Phil jealous as hell, part of the reason she picked it out while he was there.

"I can call you whatever I want, Emma. You're still my wife."

"Whatever," she said as she walked past him. He grabbed her arm and she looked at him with her blue eyes flashing with annoyance that he would dare touch her.

"Don't touch me," she whispered as she tried to pull her arm away from him.

"You used to beg me to touch you. What happened?" he asked as he guided her over to the king size bed that they used to share.

"Things have changed; I've changed."

"I don't understand."

She sighed, "I know you don't understand, Phil. That's why we're getting divorced," she said as she started to get up from the bed. Punk was quicker than her, however, and somehow had managed to move her so she was now laying down and he was on top of her. "Get off," she snapped. He knew she was about ten seconds away from screaming bloody murder, so he had to be fast. He quickly leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth while she tried to push him away. It's been almost seven months since he's kissed her. He missed her; he craved her. After almost ten years together, he still wanted her. She was the only woman he would ever look at like she hung the moon. "I still love you..." he whispered in her ear as he broke the kiss and moved off of her.

"Well that's too bad, Phil. Because I don't love you anymore," she snarled as she moved away from him quickly, leaving him alone in the bedroom that they once shared. Phil sighed; she was a difficult woman. Being difficult was one of the reason he married her. He liked a challenge.

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