Bill Compton is a complicated man. He didn't used to think that he was and maybe he wasn't, but that was a long, long time ago. Lifetimes ago. He wants to be something easy and painless, just flesh and bone, capable of simple emotions and honest intentions. Simple. Complicated. God, he wishes it wasn't all so confusing.
He can feel her the second she walks in. He's on the telephone in the back bedroom and his gut clenches with nerves that aren't his own. She's scared and he wants nothing more than to go to her, to comfort her and be supportive. But she would never allow it. He's done something to her that she cannot yet move past.
He hopes like hell that she never learns his true betrayal.
The phone call ends and he hurries to the meeting, wanting so desperately to see her, to offer something, anything, to her. He doesn't even care if it's just a kind word or a soft pat on the arm – any little bit will do. For now.
He forces himself to walk and not run down the suburban hallway, white-walled and adorned with generic farmed images that mean nothing to the inhabitants. It's just a place to call home; it wasn't really ever home for them, it never would be. This façade that they uphold, this image of domesticity, it will break at some point and Bill hopes like hell he's long gone when it does. Preferably with Sookie in tow, but that would take an exercise in humility. An exercise he doesn't know how he will accomplish, but one that he knows he must.
He's made a plan, of course. Sookie will see that he loves her and she will be able to look past the unfortunate events that tore her from him. Complicated though he may be, Bill is anything but pessimistic. He has high hopes for them, he has big plans and they will be made to happen, even if it takes years. He has forever, after all.
He steps forward and speaks, proud to have surprised her when she thought he was still away, his mind full of patina tinted images of reunion, of embraces and kisses and relieved words. But as soon as he's come from the corridor into the room, he's hit by something that he cannot deny but does not know how to acknowledge.
They stand near the tiny kitchen, twin blonds in a sea of dark, his large hand grasped in her tiny one, his scent all over her, inside her, permeating her. Bill almost can't pick the Sookie out from all of the Eric in her.
He is suddenly without his composure and he cannot allow that, but his mind is racing and he's lost his sure footing. Bill prides himself on his composure; he works very hard to keep his temper even, lest the good folk of Bon Temps see who he really is. God forbid Sookie sees who he really is. It is with Herculean effort that he has his thoughts back to his surroundings and his feet firmly planted under him, when what he wants most is to either flee or to fight.
He cannot leave and he knows it. It stings almost as much as the revelation he's just had.
He directs the conversation elsewhere – to Debbie Fucking Pelt of all people – in what is mostly an effort to keep from acting badly. He would lose a fight against Eric, but he would not go down without inflicting damage of his own. It would be ugly and he does not want that. Still, the urge to act like a barbarian is strong and hard to resist. It is, perhaps, a good thing that Eric seems to have truly lost his memory.
Well, that is yet to be proven, he reminds himself.
The discussion winds down and Eric moves even closer to Sookie and to Bill's horror she relaxes more with his proximity. She glances up at her companion's face and her own shifts to unease and he can feel the fear for the other man flow out of her like a river. Their eyes meet and it's another, more terrible emotion that spurns Bill forward to investigate this himself.
There is small talk, awkward and pregnant and Bill watches Eric closely before he can resist the urge to be blunt any longer.
"Truly, I thought this was an elaborate plan so Eric could stay with you and talk his way into your bed." To his horror, it is not true. Eric is unaware of who he is, who any of them are. Except Sookie. Sookie he's in love with, though he's not really sure of it.
For her part, she's moved on faster than Bill would have thought possible. Is your first love not as important in this age as it had been in his? Matters of love change with years, but Bill is not convinced that what he shared with Sookie is so easily replaced.
He turns to go when it is obvious that there is nothing more for them to say. She is not reacting as he hoped, she is too distracted with her new affection and Bill knows it will end badly. Bill Compton has plans and this is merely a complication along the way, for if he is a complicated man, Eric Northman wrote the book.