a/n Hope you enjoy this one! There's light fluff toward the end.

Not mine.

CHAPTER 13—DECISION

Mike sat on the front porch of Tanya's house watching the sun move across the horizon. It was unsettling.

"Wait until winter." Across the porch, Edward Cullen glittered softly in the dimming, but ever present, glow. "It's so strange."

Mike nodded, and they lapsed into silence again.

Mike had come to understand Edward a little better over the past week, and while he still wasn't the guy's biggest fan, he didn't mind him as much. He certainly had a bit of a stiff attitude, but he was from a different time. He was an Edwardian gentleman, educated in etiquette and honor. To him, women were to be respected and protected—something his new millennium wife teased him about. But while he was often stiff and formal, with his interests in the arts and literature, he was also just a teenaged boy. It was clear that while he honored his wife and respected her, he also had a healthy respect for staring at her ass.

And to top off all that old fashioned goodness, he was respectful, as much as he could be, to the private thoughts of those around him, not commenting on a lot of what he heard.

As of late, Mike had been having a lot of those private thoughts. He was suspicious that Jasper, the mood man, suspected something. He'd returned, for the most part, to his stoic self, frowning when unexpected waves of guilt went from Mike into him.

"Don't feel guilty," Edward said quietly.

"Huh?"

"About Jessica." He was awkwardly scuffing his shoes against the porch. "You shouldn't feel guilty. It wasn't your fault."

Mike laughed bitterly. So much for no comments. "Right."

"Did you mean to do it?"

"No."

Edward's feet stopped. "Then don't feel guilty. You didn't mean to, and feeling guilty won't change anything. It only makes you miserable."

"Voice of experience?"

Edward glanced up and smiled slightly. "I suppose so, yes."

Mike sighed and ran his hands wearily over his face. "Maybe I should have just left that afternoon. Packed up and not come home from work."

"Maybe," Edward said, and his voice was bitter. For what reason, Mike wasn't sure, and this thought registered with Edward. He gave a laugh as bitter as his voice, and said, "Maybe she shouldn't have let herself go so much."

Mike frowned. "What do you mean?"

Edward sighed and kicked his feet out in front of him. "I'm not trying to make you feel better or worse," he said, holding up his hands. "And you should know I don't frequently share people's personal thoughts and memories, but I feel that you should know."

And with that, he stood up and walked inside. He came back a few seconds later with an envelope in his hands. He held it out. "Tanya doesn't realize I have this. She's barely thought about it, and never consciously."

"What is it?"

"Photos," he said quietly. "Tanya hired my lawyer to have pictures taken of Jessica."

Somehow, Mike knew that whatever was in this envelope would, without justifying his actions, make them seem less reprehensible. So, he opened the photos.

"We thought it was a boyfriend or something," Edward said quietly. "I went to the house for her one night, to listen from outside."

Mike didn't need to know what he'd heard. He recognized the house from a year ago. It was a place he'd driven Jessica, on their way to Seattle for the weekend. She'd gone inside and come back, laughing and holding a little baggie with white powder inside.

"I've always wanted to try it," she'd said. "I think this weekend would be perfect."

So they'd gone to Seattle to see Tyler and some girl he was sleeping with to go to some psychedelic club. And it had been fun, but Mike had vowed never to try the stuff again. It made him jumpy and paranoid, and he'd come down hard, crashing and becoming sick before finally passing out twelve hours later.

Jessica had loved it.

There was only one reason she would still be going there. It was probably the reason for a lot of things.

"Tanya could smell it in her system the night she died," Edward said softly, hearing all of Mike's thoughts, and seeing the memories. Watching as Mike flipped through a mental list of her behaviors over the past year, thinking about how her attitude had changed from that of a carefree, if a little selfish, teenage girl, to a perpetually angry and suspicious woman. Except that this time, her suspicions had been dead on. Edward was still talking. "She'd been going a lot—twice, or three times a week. She must have gotten hooked hard and fast. I sat outside your house one night while you were out, when she decided to clean and did line after line of coke. By the time she was done, she'd cleaned the house top to bottom and baked five kinds of cookies to take to work. She stayed up all night waiting for you to come home, and when you didn't, she did another line and went to work."

Mike blinked. "Nobody knew she was fucked up? She works in a police station."

"Nobody ever knew," he said quietly. "She said she was having problems at home and was trying out various anti-depressants that weren't working."

"What a fucking liar," he said, laughing bitterly. "If she took prescriptions, they weren't for depression, and they weren't prescribed."

Edward blinked, looking a little surprised. "Valium?"

"Since sophomore year of college," he said. "I guess I should have known better than to let a pill addict try cocaine."

"She made the decision to keep going without you," Edward said. "Stop feeling guilty."

"Eventually." Mike handed the photos back to Edward. He never wanted to see them again—never wanted to remember.

"I'll burn them," Edward said quietly. "And you'll forget eventually. It's easy to forget your human life."

"I hope so." Mike blinked, wanting to change the subject. "Let's get started on that now, then. You're supposed to be explaining what's going to happen to me."

Edward frowned. "Right. What are your questions?"

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes." Edward's frown deepened. "You'll be in excruciating pain for around three days. Your body will feel like it's on fire. Your systems will change their chemical structure. Your heart will speed up right before it stops. And when your heart stops, it's over. You wake up and see the world for the first time." He sighed heavily. "There's nothing that can be done to stop the pain. We tried morphine on Emmett, but it wasn't fast enough. We got it into Bella's system, and it backfired." Edward's golden eyes closed, and his face was etched with pain and grief. "She couldn't move for two days. Couldn't speak. I couldn't even tell if she was going to make it, she was so still."

The porch door opened and closed, and before his eyes could see where she'd come from, Bella was sitting next to her husband. "You're leaving out day three." She smiled, taking his hand. "I could have moved, but I didn't want to scare you."

"Right. Self righteously burning at the stake," Edward said dryly, but a small smile was tugging at his lips.

"Taking Rosalie's advice," she retorted.

"What advice was that?" Mike asked, curiously.

"She said it never does any good to scream."

Mike blinked. He recalled something Tanya had told him—that Carlisle Cullen had changed each of his family under extreme circumstances of near death. He wondered vaguely what Rosalie's state had been, and as vaguely about the others.

"She'll tell you in good time," Edward said sharply, and his eyes were narrowed. "When she feels ready."

"Huh?"

"Rosalie. She'll tell you her story when she wants to tell you." Edward's voice had an edge of something. Protectiveness? "She's my sister," Edward said, his tone softening. "I don't like to cause her pain."

"Usually," Bella interjected, grinning.

"The thorough wrapping of her car in bubble wrap and three kinds of tape was Jacob's idea, and caused her no injury that she wasn't over in an hour." Edward's face had relaxed. "But as far as her past goes, I don't like to bring it up to her if I don't have to. I get to rewatch it with her every time." He cringed.

"And the others?"

"Ask Emmett sometime why he likes grizzly bears so much." Edward grinned. "Esme fell from a cliff and was almost dead when they brought her to the morgue."

Mike blinked. "They took her straight to the morgue?"

"They thought she was dead," he explained. "Carlisle knew better."

"And you?"

"Edward had the flu," Bella said, deadpan. She seemed to be trying not to smile, and this seemed to annoy Edward. Her face took on a look of intense concentration, and Edward jumped a little, looking offended.

"Well, forgive me," he huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "I honestly thought she was sick."

"She was embarrassed," Bella said, raising her eyebrows. "And your on-the-spot physical didn't help things." She turned to Mike. "Any time the baby sneezes or coughs, he freaks out, thinks she has the flu, and gives her a physical. He's a very paranoid father."

Edward didn't seem to be listening. He was staring intently at the house, and after a few seconds, the door opened. Tanya was holding out a phone to Bella. "It's Nessie. She wants to know if she can stay up past midnight."

"No," Edward said, but Bella was already on her feet and taking the phone.

"Hi, honey," she said, smiling. There was a tiny pause, then she asked, "Why do you need to stay up so late?"

Edward's eyes grew wide and he let out a whoop of glee, jumping off the couch.

Bella burst out laughing. "Well, if he promised, you better make him pull through. It's fine with me if it's fine with Charlie." Another pause, and a small smile crossed Bella's face. "Love you, too. Bye."

"Why'd she need to stay up late?" Tanya asked. "She sounded excited."

"The White Sox and the Mariners are tied and it's going into the sixteenth inning. She doesn't want to miss it."

Tanya shook her head. "Is that where Edward is?"

"Yep. Probably figures Chicago needs as much moral support now as they can get."

Mike blinked. "Why's he a White Sox fan?"

Tanya was deadpanned. "He was very sick," she said seriously. "A very ill boy, and it altered his brain and made him make strange decisions about life." She grinned at Mike and held out her hand. "Come inside."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and he took her hand and let her take him inside.

And man, did she take him inside.

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Tanya was sure that the sounds that were sure to be escaping from her bedroom were in no way polite. That being said, they were trying to be quiet.

He just made it really difficult when he trailed just the tip of his tongue from her ankle to her ear. And once the squeals and soft cries started, there was no stopping them.

She didn't care. She loved this man, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to be sure he knew it. If anything, he seemed just as intent of showing her his feelings, taking his sweet time, whispering sweet nothings against her skin in a voice that was more a rush of warm breath than sound. His fingers drummed patterns on her skin while he stared at her. His blue eyes were bright with his desire for her.

It wasn't one sided, though, and she felt a stab of pride whenever a groan or a moan or her name escaped his lips. She gazed up from under her lashes when she took him in her mouth, loving the way his eyes rolled back in his head, and the way he grasped her hair firmly, using her for his own pleasure.

He finally took her, slow and leisurely. So tender and gentle, as if she were the breakable one. She got lost again, feeling herself drifting in a haze of pleasure.

His laughter brought her back, and she opened her eyes to see his bright blue eyes staring back at her, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess. He was grinning from ear to ear, and she felt more in love with him at that moment than ever before.

"I love you," she whispered.

The huge grin softened, and he gazed down at her. "I love you, too," he whispered. Then he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he whispered, even more softly, "I want you to do it."

She took a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Any minute, Carlisle and Esme would be here, and Carlisle would inject Mike with venom, cleanly and safely. She wouldn't have to take the risk.

But another thought occurred to her. Not all vampires had access to someone as controlled as Carlisle. And where many of them failed, she had more control. She'd been around human blood, and not succumbed.

But this was different. She would have to bite him—taste his blood.

But she wanted to taste it. Wanted to know, before it was gone.

Her thoughts and decisions took place over the course of a second.

"Now?" she whispered.

Downstairs, she heard something shatter. A vase, maybe—Alice had been rearranging flowers. She heard Alice's voice whisper, "Edward!"

"Now," Mike whispered, nuzzling against her neck.

"I love you," she whispered, ignoring the sound of Jasper's hurried footsteps, racing out the front door. Probably going to find Carlisle.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, and he pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "I trust you."

As she pulled back her lips, she could hear footsteps as Edward and Alice raced up the stairs—to stop her, or to stand by, she wasn't sure. She didn't care.

His flesh gave way like butter to a hot knife. His blood pooled in her mouth, and he moaned deeply. She matched the sound, letting his hot, sweet blood, more delectable than any she'd tasted before, run down her throat.

Did she really have to change him?

A strong pair of hands wrapped around her waist, and she hissed and kicked as she was pulled away. Mike's eyes were closed, and his face was contorted in pain. Tanya struggled against her captor, hissing and biting. Edward hissed back at her, and the sight of his face brought her back to where she was and what she had just done.

Oh, God. Had she killed him?

She could hear Edward saying something about Carlisle, but she wasn't paying attention. Mike wasn't moving.

The front door opened downstairs, and a moment later, Carlisle was in the room.

He said her name gently, calmly. How could he be so calm?

"Tanya?" He stared into her eyes. "Look at me." She followed the command, staring desperately into her cousin's eyes for reassurance.

They were sparkling.

She wanted to ask.

Before she could open her mouth though, the screaming began and answered her question.

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