This story is a collaborative effort between SeriousCrush and My Secret O.

Charlaine Harris owns everything. We're just giving Sookie a brain.


A Change Is Gonna Come – Chapter 1

Work has been hellish tonight. Between breaking up a bar fight between the college kid (that swung at me!) and Jeff, and the encounter with the twitchy v-addict/drainer, I was tired. Sick and tired, in fact, of the shit that faced me every day in my dead-end job at Merlotte's. It's not like tonight had been different from any other night, it was pretty typical, especially for a Friday night. The bar was noisy, filled with clattering sounds from the kitchen, the beer tap dispensing glass after glass, and the happy chatter of friends discussing a game of pool or the latest news. This might have seemed overwhelming to some, but to me it felt almost quiet since learning to control my ability meant I didn't have to listen to their thoughts too.

As I picked up a plate from the kitchen, I zoned out, thinking about my ability. I had gotten pretty good at controlling who got into my mind. I had stayed here, in Bon Temps, and specifically at Merlotte's because I thought it was the only possibility for me. But it wasn't anymore, in fact, it probably never was. There were other jobs I was qualified for, jobs that wouldn't require such emotional investment. Working at Merlotte's meant I was constantly subjected to the judgment of Bon Temps' people that thought they knew me. Even when I wasn't listening to the horrible things they thought about me, I still had to endure their sideways glances. The ones that said 'Poor Crazy Sookie!'

Sam was my friend, sure, but I had no future here, except the potential of a black eye from the next drunk jerk that got out of line. Or worse. This wasn't the kind of life I wanted for myself, and I had been coming to this realization slowly over the past few weeks.

When Gran was still alive, I occasionally thought about moving, but couldn't bring myself to leave her alone. After she died, I felt obligated to stay, as if leaving would prove that they were right when they thought that I was responsible for her death. I knew that I had nothing to be ashamed of, but they didn't seem to.

I delivered the plate to Portia Bellefleur who was having a drink with a guy I had never seen before and she gave me her usual condescending look. If she only knew what I was capable of she might not have felt so superior.

I always felt it was somehow immoral that I could hear everyone's darkest secrets but ever since I got involved with vampires I slowly began to see my telepathy in a new light. Eric called it a gift and at the time I laughed in his face because I couldn't see it as anything but a curse; but was it really that different from other supernatural abilities or even from regular human talents?

Some people can sing, some are great dancers, others can run, swim or jump faster and higher than anyone else; some are amazing scholars or artists. People always admired other people's extraordinary talents, in fact, to some extent, people who succeed at what they do, do so because they have abilities and traits that make them especially suited to their occupation. Psychologists trained for years learning to evaluate people's behavior, devising tests to help them determine whether someone would make a good employee and whether he or she were honest and trustworthy. This was something I was naturally good at.

I didn't want to reveal my ability to the world so I couldn't really join a search and rescue team or help the police solve crimes, but I could find a way to work with the vampires on my terms. I didn't want to be rash and offer my services to the vampires without insisting on a few things; my ability must be kept secret, innocent people must not be hurt, and I would need complete details of each job. If I was going to work with the vampires anyway, I might as well accept it and make the best of it.

The first thing I needed to do was get a job that didn't leave me emotionally exhausted. Even when I wasn't working, my job at Merlotte's left me drained and unable to recover. I wasn't going to get any serious thinking done if I stayed here.

Sam knew that I was looking for a new job. We had discussed it briefly two weeks ago. Since then, he had agreed that I could leave whenever I needed to, letting me know that he had come to accept that I deserved more in life than what working in his bar could offer. He had already posted an ad for my replacement, and was in the process of narrowing down his choice. I even managed to get up the nerve to tell Sam that I had sent my resume for a new job. Sure I hadn't told him it was a job in Shreveport, but when I found out that the Shreveport Memorial Library was hiring, I couldn't pass it up. It was the first of many signs that directed me to change my life.

Sam would have to get used to a life without me, and I would have to be a grown-up and think about myself first for once.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was ready for a nice relaxing shower and some peace and quiet. As the soap removed all traces of the cigarette smoke and deep fat fryer oil, tears joined the stream of water running down my face. I was tired and sad but most of all I was angry. Angry at the world for kicking me when I was already down but even angrier at myself for being so afraid.

Merlotte's was only part of the problem. Hell, until recently I actually looked forward to going into work. At least it got me out of my house where I was constantly haunted by the memory of Gran's death. Nope, my job was definitely not the biggest of my problems. I was unhappy with my life but it was almost as if I was paralyzed, waiting for someone, or something, to make my decision for me. I had only known change to bring pain and sorrow in its wings, and even though I understood it could also bring joy I had yet to experience it.

A few weeks had passed since the witch war and the time Eric had spent with me and I was painfully aware of his absence. When he was here with me, I silently wished for him to stay, but when he offered I refused. I couldn't have lived with the knowledge that he had given up everything he had, everything he was, to be with me, but I also felt like I didn't want to stay here myself.

The tears boiled out of my eyes now, accompanied by small sobs of regret. I missed Eric terribly. I had seen him in such a raw form, stripped of his cocky smile and highhanded behavior, and I really liked what I saw…but there was also a part of me that couldn't bear the thought of never seeing that cocky smile again. I clearly needed to reassess how I felt about Eric.

I stepped out of the shower, and into my favorite nightgown. I needed something to keep my hands busy, and found myself in the kitchen. I started by scrubbing the counter and reorganizing the cupboards. My personal life wasn't the only thing that needed a good cleaning out!

My brain buzzed as memories of Eric pushed their way to my consciousness. It seemed like Eric was always there when I needed him and that I always took it for granted or chose to believe he had ulterior motives. Eric had killed Long Shadow to save me, even though in his world my life, the life of a mere human, was not worth the life of a vampire. When the maenad attacked me, he arranged for Dr. Ludwig to heal me and was willing to drink poisoned blood in order to save my life. I had always assumed that he came to Dallas to protect his own interests but never seriously considered that he infiltrated the Dallas nest to protect me. When I got invited to the sex party at Jan's house, Eric had been there for me, protecting me from the humans leering at me, and then from the madness of the maenad. In Jackson, after Bill disappeared, Eric helped me find him, healed me from my stake wound, and helped me escape from the king's mansion. I was so wrapped up in Bill that I had been blind to Eric's efforts! And what was the reward for my loyalty to Bill? I was lied to, cheated on, and raped by the man that said he loved me, all the while ignoring the man that really had been there for me.

I never really formed my own first impression of Eric. Bill had spent months convincing me to stay away from Eric, and I was stupid enough to take his word at face value. Eric was supposedly a cold-hearted monster, only concerned with his own affairs. Eric's actions should have spoken louder than Bill's words, and yet, at the time, I couldn't hear anything but Bill's cool voice telling me he was no good. Now I was angry again. Angry at Bill for duping me, but more angry at myself for letting him. The spell that had stripped Eric of his memories had also stripped him of the usual masks and defenses we all wear to protect ourselves from others. What was hidden underneath was not a monster as Bill would have me think, or a power hungry, cold and calculated asshole as I tried to tell myself, but someone that had managed to steal my heart without even trying.

Why had it taken me so long to get here, to be honest with myself and acknowledge Eric's influence in my life? Why had I not gone to him? Told him everything? Did I really think that being honest with him would have given him power over me?

I was afraid. I was so afraid that he wouldn't want me, and afraid that if he did everything would change.

Our time together was so glorious, and then everything ended the night of the witch war, and I didn't have the courage to stand up for myself. What I should have done was keep him in my house until I forced myself to come clean. It wasn't too late, was it? Initially, he had seemed curious about his stay with me, so maybe he still would be. I needed to tell him everything. What I felt, and what I think he felt. What's the worst that could happen? It can't be any worse than what I'm feeling, because my heart is already broken.

The plates and glasses piled up on the counter as I wiped out the shelves inside the cupboard. Perched on Gran's stool by the phone, I was tempted to call Eric right then and there, but stopped myself before I could dial Fangtasia, determined to be brave and talk to him face to face, even if I didn't get the response I wanted from him.

Wait. "What do I want from him?" As I spoke the words out loud, the answer presented itself to me. I wanted him to remember our time together, and I wanted him. I know that much now.

"I'm not going to be afraid anymore." I said as I polished a plate and put it down in its new clean spot.

Mopping the floor was the hardest part of cleaning this kitchen. There would never be a time where I wouldn't be reminded of finding Gran's body, in a pool of blood, in this very spot. No matter how many times I cleaned, this kitchen would never be the same.

I realized that I couldn't (and didn't) want to make this house mine. Not really. It was too painful to change it and too painful to leave it as it was. The memory of using a shotgun on Debbie Pelt near the door still made bile rise in my throat when I thought about it. Eric saved me that time too.

I sat down heavily, and found myself caressing the wood of the table, instantly reminded of my adventurous kitchen sex with Eric. Memories of sex in the shower, bed, living room floor, couch, and a few other unconventional places, put a smile on my face. I let my mind linger on those memories, realizing that every good memory I had in this house in the last little while involved Eric. I wanted to smack myself in the head for being so thick, but instead I stood up and went back to work, cleaning out the fridge.

I sat in front of the fridge on the floor, holding a half consumed bottle of True Blood, the warm air from the compressor blowing on my knees. This should have been a big enough clue that I needed Eric. Here I was, keeping a nearly empty bottle of blood Eric had left after Debbie attacked us. Weeks had gone by and I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. It was the only physical evidence that he had been here.

Sam had been trying to talk me into moving for some time now, and I felt it was about time that I took his friendly advice and left this place behind. I couldn't imagine selling; after all, Stackhouses had lived here for over 150 years, and the house was filled with all kinds of family heirlooms. I could probably find someone that would rent it though. It had plenty of land and lots of privacy. I didn't need either of those things, or the gruesome memories of blood and death. I needed a fresh start.

I opened my purse and pulled out the register for my savings account, staring at the balance. It had taken me a while to finally deposit the 'present' Eric had left me under my saltshaker. I had given Jason some of it, just as Eric had predicted, but the amount that was left was substantial, and would be plenty to keep me afloat even if I didn't find a renter right away.

Filled with a new sense of purpose I cleaned until 4 o'clock in the morning. As I crawled into my bed, I was determined to change my life, starting tomorrow.


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