A/N: Soooo … you can thank charhamblin for this li'l ditty. When she asked in her last review for a bit of Viking internal monologue explaining what exactly happened when Sookie and Eric broke up, I was inspired. I know a lot of you have been asking, so hopefully this gives you a bit more insight. It doesn't answer ALL your questions (c'mon, a girl must have some mysteries, no?), but it should shed a bit of light on things :)

Btw- I'm going to San Diego on Saturday, so you probably won't see any updates from me for at least another week or so. I'm gonna be hanging out with my ff bestie/Viking-porn dealer/rayray … well, I could go on and on and on…

*ahem* there will be lots n' lots of tweeting/dweeting/tumblr-ing, etc… so, you should totally follow both of us on twitter … just sayin' ;p Link to my twitter page is on my profile.

Huge thanks to chiisai-kitty for getting this back to me with faster than vamp speed! Any mistakes remaining are, of course, purely my own.

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

I couldn't quite believe I was actually out here; leaning against the hood of my car in front of Sookie's house as I waited for her to get home, like a creepy as fuck stalker.

If I hadn't been so angry when I'd stormed out of Fangtasia an hour ago, I probably would not have allowed myself to discard all common sense and pride. But it was too late to turn back now. I was here, and I was set on getting exactly what I'd come for.

Which was to make Sookie see that she'd finally lost her damn mind.

When she'd broken things off with me about three months ago, I suspected she'd lost touch with reality, her reality. But now, I was fucking certain.

When she'd come to me to tell me of her decision, the certainty in her eyes made it clear any argument would be moot. We'd ended up agreeing that she would be retiring her telepathic services, and that we would just let our bond fade away. There was nothing I could do, though, about our marriage. She greeted that news with unsurprised resignation, and walked out of my fucking life.

I knew it was hard on her—I could see it in the devastated slope of her shoulders. But she did her best to hide it, and I reciprocated by pretending not to see it.

Truth was, I didn't give a shit how fucking hard it was for her. It should have been impossible. It was for me.

But, actually, what really fucked me up was that as much as I was pissed at her, I was equally proud of her. She was doing what she needed to do to protect herself. No matter that it wrecked the both of us in the process, it was still an instinct that I could admire and appreciate; self preservation.

So, after a couple of months yo-yoing between swearing off all feeding and fucking, to drowning myself in it, I finally managed to attain a very precarious approximation of that which I sought; a state of semi-conscious numbness. I was no longer a fucking time bomb that could go off any second. That is, until Pam thought that it would be a good idea to make me aware of Sookie's pending nuptials.

Suddenly, I could feel every cell in my body perk up. She was nearing. I felt her moments before I heard her car approach, and I fucking hated it. God, it had been months since we'd last exchanged blood.

How long would it fucking take to get Sookie Stackhouse out of my system?

I didn't really want to know.

She slammed her car door and stalked over to me. The confusion that appeared on her face when she first spotted me was replaced in quick succession first by concern, then by that trademark defensive anger of hers.

"Eric, what are you doing here?"

Well good evening to you too, lover. "What, no kiss? For your husband?"

She flinched. "Eric ..."

Was that pain I saw flash across her eyes? It was too fucking fleeting to be sure. She quickly pulled the curtain on that shit, though. "I'm so not doing this with you right now."

She pretended to busy herself with rooting around in her purse for her keys as she tried to make her way past me, but I easily stopped her in her tracks, grabbing her arm to hold her where she was.

"Oh, but we are doing this," I hissed. "Right. Fucking. Now."

She gasped, cringing away from me and only making my anger flare that much more.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Did you really expect for me to just roll over? Must I remind you that I am not a dog, unlike your … hmm , what shall we call him? Distraction? Toy? Pet, maybe?" I sneered, the malice in my voice turning up with every word. "Tell me, Sookie. Does he heel nicely for you?"

The fear in her eyes was quickly replaced with anger. The pure, unadulterated, indignant stuff. She yanked her arm away and placed it on her hip, jutting her chin out.

Fighting stance.

"You're not gonna call him anything." She punctuated her outburst with a poke to my shoulder, her face all hard with determination and self-righteous fury.

But then, something made her back off, her face soften. "Look, Eric—I'm sorry. I know this can't be easy, but … I thought we'd settled this. There's really nothing left to say."

"Oh, I think there's plenty left to say. We can start with why you decided to marry a fucking dog—oh, I'm sorry, a shifter—when you are supposedly trying to cut out all supernatural ties from your life."

She folded her arms and glared at me, all wide-eyed and gape-mouthed.

Of course, I ignored all the warning signals of the coming hurricane that was Sookie's gathering fury. I was just picking up steam myself.

"But a dog, Sookie?" I continued. "A dirty, stinking fucking dog?"

"Eric, you stop that this instant. I will not stand here and listen to your blatant racist comments." She let out a deep breath and looked as if she was trying to rein herself in. "Look, we've been through this. Far too many times."

And there it was. That look. The same one that had been there on her face all those months ago, when she'd come to see me, to rip my fucking heart out. Or, as she would have put it, to 'say goodbye', or 'dance our last dance' or some shit. I couldn't remember exactly, and I didn't fucking want to.

It was the look that said this decision has already been made; there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it; there is nothing left for you to say.

Oh, but I would have to disagree with you there, once again.

There was so much left to say.

"Why, Sookie?"

"Why? Why what? Why Sam? Do you really want me to tell you all the details?" She gave me a sideways glance. "Or why am I getting married in general? C'mon, Eric. Did you really expect me to mope around and be lonely and miserable for the rest of my life?" she paused. "Is that what you would really want for me? Look, I hold no delusions. I know that you only survived this long because you are pragmatic, and ruthless, and … well, you would call it strategic; I would call it cold. But, petty? Cruel? That is not the Eric I know."

Well, maybe you don't know as much as you think you do.

"Don't try your fucking psycho babble bullshit on me, Sookie. If it doesn't work for Pam, with all the hours of Dr. Phil and Dear Abby she's logged, it certainly won't work for you."

She gave me a sad little smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"But to answer your question. No. What I expected is for you to come to your senses. You know, for your sanity to return. That obviously didn't pan out."

She sputtered.

"Come on, Sookie. You don't actually believe that a mere pooch will be able to satisfy you."

"This conversation is so over, Eric. Actually, it was over, like, five minutes ago," she huffed and stomped off towards her house, muttering, "I don't even know why I bother with this crap."

"What, so you've actually convinced yourself you're going to have that white picket fence, the two kids, and a dog?" I called out after her. "Oh, right. I'm sorry. You already have the dog. Look at that, you're already being so frugal, like a good little suburban housewife."

She shot me the death glare over her shoulder before yanking the door open and slamming it behind her.

The pain I felt in my chest was almost enough to bring me to my knees. Trouble was, I couldn't quite tell if it was her pain I was feeling, or my own.

And I wasn't entirely sure that I really wanted to know.

A/N Dawww … dontcha just wanna give the poor baby a big ol' hug? Uh … you COULD give him an e-hug by pressin' the li'l green button there. Oh, okay, I'll shut up now. Love you all & thanx for reading! Muah!