A/N: I don't own anything. Also, no Tara right now. She's gone away somewhere, and I'm not sure where she is, but I got sick of her. And because there is no Tara, I'm ignoring the Debbie Pelt incident at the end of 4.12.
The moon was bright. Sookie shifted slightly on her pillow, pulling the single white sheet that covered her to rest along her hips as she opened her eyes. The almost floor-to-ceiling window was open, allowing the cold night air to ender the room, and the breeze to rustle her hair. The light of the moon illuminated the bare skin of her back and shoulders that wasn't covered by the white camisole she wore. She listened, ears straining in the night for the sound that had awoken her. She glanced at the clock – it was just after 3 in the morning – too early to get up. She sighed and turned over into her back, reaching across the bed blindly for the body that should – and had for the past week – been there. The mattress was cool to her touch, and she smiled faintly, missing him. It was something that even years of absence probably would not fix. She held back tears she knew she shouldn't have, and stared up at the ceiling, ignoring her empty bed and deciding that she had imagined whatever she thought she heard.
It shouldn't be like this. She knew it, but it was for the best. She was the one who'd done it – not that it made it any easier. But for the life of her, in that moment, she couldn't think of any reason that could justify what she'd done at Bill's mansion two weeks ago. Theoretically, she knew it made sense. Logically, she had made the right choice. But emotionally? Her Gran always used to tell her, "the heart wants what the heart wants, Sookie. Ain't nothing we can do about it."
Sookie shifted and resettled, moving to the cooler part of the bed, as she thought about what she had done. She didn't regret leaving Bill. She knew that. When she said that she knew he'd loved her just as much as she'd loved him, she meant it. She had loved him. But looking at it honestly, she knew she hadn't loved him for a while now. She turned her face, inhaling deeply. The pillow smelled of him. She couldn't quite place the smell; it somewhere between a smell that curled back into her throat, warming her and sending tingles all the way to her toes, and something else inherently… him.
She blinked up at the ceiling, realizing for the first time that she wasn't the least bit tired, which was at the very least incredibly inconvenient. Her gaze drifted around the room, lingering on each piece of furniture. She knew he'd done this. She'd known for while now, just refused to let her mind go there. He was good with his hands – in more ways than one, she remembered, blushing – and she knew he'd spent time restoring what could be salvaged of her furniture and building entirely new pieces when nothing could be done to fix what the maenad had left in her wake.
Sookie ran a finger over the detailed design on the headboard. It was a dark wood – probably rosewood – with the most intricate carvings covering the surface. As she traced the line of one of the vines, she felt the subtle imperfections beneath the pad of her finger, and she knew he'd done this himself by hand. He'd made her a bed. And despite the frat boy implications, she let out a sigh on contentment. He'd made her a bed.
The heard something whoosh by outside and she sat up. That sound was entirely too familiar to her now. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for her white cotton robe as she made her way out of the bedroom and downstairs. She was tying the ties of the robe around her waist as she stepped off the stairs and walked towards the front door. She paused a few feet from it when she saw him through the glass, standing on her porch. She crossed the remaining distance slowly, and her eyes never left his as she unlocked the door and opened it.
She hadn't seen him in two weeks – and frankly, she was surprised it had lasted that long. She was convinced something would happen that would send her running to him or Bill for help, or visa versa, as it always had. But she'd had two weeks of peace. She'd used the time she had to take stock of her life. She'd unpacked the remaining boxes Jason had stored in her room and officially made the move into Gran's old room. She'd had time to notice what had been changed in the restoration of her house. She had satellite TV and Internet, and she knew she wasn't paying for either of these accommodations. She had several new pieces of furniture, new carpets and draperies. If she was honest, it was a little boring. But she reasoned that she needed it after all she'd been through.
"It's 3 in the morning," she said when he said nothing. He raised his eyebrows and she sighed. "You realize I've been getting an average of four hours of sleep a night since I got involved with all you vampires, don't you?"
A smile ghosted across his face as he handed her a small stack of paperwork. "The deed to your house," he said.
She stared at the papers he was holding out for her before looking back up and meeting his eyes. "You're giving me back my house?" she asked, stunned.
He expelled an unnecessary breath of air in frustration. "If I cannot protect you, I would feel better if you have complete control over who you may or may not invite into your home," he told her. He sounded stung, not that she blamed him.
"And you thought 3 am was a good time for this?" she asked, still processing what was happening. The look he gave her actually made her shiver, so she accepted the paperwork from him. The stack was thicker than she was expecting and as she began flipping through it, she turned on her heel, leaving the door open for him as she made her way towards the kitchen, turning on the light.
He watched her walk away and for a moment, he couldn't decide whether or not to follow her. His pride made him want to wait outside, occupy himself with what business he could conduct via cellphone. His love for her made him want to follow her inside, and not spend anymore time than he had to away from her. After several minutes of intense deliberation, he pushed aside his pride and stepped inside the house, telling himself it was because he needed to know she was safe, which really was irrelevant because he didn't need to be inside her house to know it.
As he walked through her house, he let his gaze wander over the books she'd bought to fill the new bookshelves he'd built, the carpet's he'd ordered that she'd liked enough to keep, and the furniture she'd moved around to her liking. Eric leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, studying her. She looked tan, bronzed; she'd been spending more time outside. She also looked surprisingly well rested. He hadn't realized how tired he'd come accustomed to seeing her look, and felt a wave of guilt sweep through him. Her robe had slipped off her shoulders and he marveled at the gentle curve of her neck, the sweep of her shoulders and the sway of her back as she bent over the table.
The sound of a page turning seemed far too loud in the silent kitchen; the harsh, dry crackle like dried leaves. Sookie smoothed the paper flat as if that would undo the sound. She was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on either side of the stack of paperwork he'd brought her, reading though it. She hadn't been surprised that he'd followed her in; in truth, she would have been disappointed if he hadn't. She found his presence in her house strangely comforting. It was familiar, and she realized she'd missed not just him, but the presence of someone other than herself in her house.
The clock ticked loudly from where it hung above the stove and she looked up from the paperwork at him. "Would you like to sit?" she asked.
He took another unnecessary breath and crossed over, stopping once he'd reached her chair. He reached into his pocket and set a pen on the table next to her hand. "Sign it and it's yours," he said.
Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she stared up at him. She wanted to pay him back for all the work he'd done, draw up a payment plan for buying back her house. But she knew he'd never agree to it. For a minute, she seriously considered arguing with him, but the fight was gone from her. She had nothing left to give at the moment, and she really wanted her house back. So instead of arguing, she settled on a simple, "Okay."
"I'll wait outside," he told her.
"Outside?" she asked. He gave her a slightly amused look, and she nodded. "Right," she repeated, feeling silly she hadn't realized he wouldn't be able to stay inside her house once she'd signed the papers. Her eyes never left his, and she could have sworn she had caught him in a moment without his armor. There were moments where he looked surprisingly child-like, vulnerable and so innocent it broke her heart. But as quickly as it had gone away, his armor was back on and his face was once again cold and expressionless.
She looked down at the papers in front of her, and she felt her hair blow softly around her shoulders as he left the room. She reached out and picked up the silver pen, feeling the weight in her hand. She absently thought it must have been an expensive one, and she wondered why anyone would feel the need to spend so much money on a pen. She uncapped it and flipped the document to the yellow sticky tab marked so impersonally with the words SIGN HERE. Without letting herself think anymore than she already had over this situation, she signed.
Outside, Eric studied the front door of her house curiously, wondering if he'd ever see the inside of her house again. He couldn't stop the faint smile from appearing on his face when Sookie appeared in the doorway. She stepped onto the porch and handed him the stack of papers. "Here," she said, wrapping her robe tighter around her body. The silence of the night was deafening, and she shifted her weight nervously. "Is that it?" she asked after a moment. "Did it work?"
He smiled fully this time. "Would you like me to test it?" he asked, his tone teasing.
She shook her head, shivering. "I trust you," she said.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he nodded. "I should get back to Fangtasia."
She felt a pang of jealousy; how many girls had he fucked since she'd broken everything they'd had? How many had he drank from? She pushed those thoughts aside. She had no claim on him, no right to judge how he chose to live his life. She'd lost that right two weeks ago. "Is it nice being back?" she asked, almost cringing at how impersonal and awkward her question was.
He arched eyebrow. "You could say that."
Silence. "Goodnight, then," she said finally, biting her lip. His stare drunk her in, as if he couldn't get enough, and she couldn't look away either – somehow, being near him again had made her lose all her determination and resolve. Why had she done all this again?
Slowly, Eric brought a hand up, cupping her face gently. "Good bye, Sookie," he said softly, before disappearing into the night.
Sookie stood there on her porch for several seconds before uttering a single word. "Fudge…"