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An Eric/Sookie fic.
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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own True Blood.
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A/N: So, I have this habit of picking small parts out of episodes and branching them off into either many one-shots, or a multi-chapter fic. I'm planning one on the scene in the church where Eric tells Sookie, "Trust me". This one, however, takes place at the beginning of "I Will Rise Up", when Eric covered Sookie in the explosion. It was too good to pass up. The funniest thing is, I stopped the DVD 1 minute and 19 seconds into the episode to write this fic, so I have yet to see the blood bond between Eric and Sookie! I'm excited for it! Loved the jealousy from Bill in the previous episode.
I hope you guys like this, I know I'll love writing it.
As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!
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I think I might have gasped when that man - hardly older than myself, I reckon - pushed the button to blow up his suicide bomb. I think, but I don't know for sure. All the air was sucked out of me in an instant.
There was no time to react. No one could've. It was too fast.
I couldn't see what happened next; a large, black mass flooded my vision, and then everything else went black.
Maybe I fell unconscious. I don't know that either. There's too many things I don't know. Maybe I have a concussion ... that would make sense. It would account for the odd ticking sensation against my nose with every ragged breath that I take. Blond hair is strewn over my face, but it's not my hair. It's a darker shade, and slicker, too.
Something triggers inside of me, but my mind is too foggy to work out the meaning.
I hear moans and whimpers and cries and screams all around me. The bomber was covered in silver chains ... they must have exploded with the bomb, showering silver onto and into all the vampires in the home. Godric's home. Eric's maker's home. ...Eric.
It clicked. It was Eric that was on top of me. The overwhelming weight across my upper body that was making it hard to breathe. I find that odd, because before the bomb went off, he was behind me ... I'm sure of it.
"Eric," I croak out, and a cough follows from my chest.
He doesn't respond ... I pray that he didn't die in this explosion. The action surprises me, but I pray for it nonetheless. "Eric? Are you okay?"
"That depends on your definition," he responded dryly, his voice almost as weak as mine, if not weaker.
I can't explain the rush of relief that floods my prone body at the sound of his voice. This man who less than two hours ago, I watched try to sacrifice himself for his maker; this man who claimed not to know what love was; this man who enjoyed tormenting Bill at every opportunity ... he had saved my life, and he had lived. It was a miracle.
"What happened?" I ask, even though I feel foolish for doing so. I know what happened. One of the Fellowship of the Sun nut-jobs had walked into a vampire nest with a silver-encased chest-bomb and blew everyone to bits.
"Humanity," Eric replies, still lying on top of me. "That's what happened, Sookie."
I close my eyes, seeing spots before my eyes as I do. Concussion is seeming more and more like a probability.
"Are you injured?" Eric asks me.
I'm shocked and flattered at his concern. "I don't know ... I don't think so. It's kind of hard to tell with you lying on me."
He's silent for a moment, and then responds, "If I could move, I would. I'm sorry if this is causing you discomfort."
I want to tell him that his elbow is pressing into my stomach, but the words never make it past my lips. "It's okay. You saved my life."
"Don't mention it," Eric replied.
I am filled with this irrational desire to make sure he's okay, to see if I can do anything to ease his pain. Despite the throbbing pain in my head - concussion most definite - I attempt to scoot myself backwards on the floor, making it barely more than a foot before a moan of pain escapes Eric's lips. Now I know he's in pain ... he would never make such an outward expression of injury willingly.
"I'm sorry," I tell him quickly, halting my movements. What I don't tell him is that because of my actions, his elbow is now pressing into my groin. I blame my concussion for such foolish thoughts.
"Sookie!" I hear Bill yelling through the mayhem.
"Here comes your knight in shining armor," Eric states, with a tone of distaste.
If his weight wasn't so heavy on my chest, I might have sighed in annoyance at the petty jealousy between Bill and Eric. Instead, I said, "Thank you, Eric. I won't forget what you've done."
"I should have gone for Godric ... I should be protecting Godric ... Godric."
I can tell that his worry for his maker is manifesting, and can practically feel the guilt oozing from his body into mine. He had reacted without thinking, in such short a time ... and he had chosen to save me. The man whose cockiness knew no bounds, the man who had only shown true love - whether he admitted it or not - for one other being, had chosen to save me, instead of his maker. I couldn't express with words how I felt at that moment.
Maybe it was the concussion, maybe it was the guilt flooding into me, maybe it was my frustration with Bill for not telling me about his maker, maybe it was the sorrow that had filled me as he willingly let himself be tied down with silver in the sanctuary of the church, or the way he had tried to bargain for my safety. There were a countless number of things it could have been, but whatever made me do what I did next, I will never know.
"Thank you Eric ... for everything. If I could move right now, I might kiss you."
The words were out, there was no taking them back.
"Sookie!" Bill called out again, and I could tell he was getting closer.
"I get back up on my feet, I might just take you up on that, Miss Stackhouse," Eric replied, and I could hear a touch of that cockiness that so defined him.
I smiled then, despite our situation. It was fleeting, and it fell from my face the next time Bill called out for me. But, it had been there. And I knew Eric had felt it too.
Something had changed between us, the moment he stepped in front of me to shield me from the bomb. Something sparked ... and I liked it.
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The end.
Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it?
I don't usually write first-person, but I'm trying to get used to it as the second novel I'm writing is in first-person.
Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.
Until next time ...!