Karaoke night had been an institution at Merlotte's (under new management – yours truly and co-owner Pam Ravenscroft) for well over a hundred years. I guess I should explain that.

When I used the cluviel dor to save Sam, apparently I either wasn't specific enough, or had two things in mind when I said 'live'. Or the use of it somehow triggered my 'essential spark' and fae heritage – with nobody to ask what the hell happened, I can't be sure. Sam did live, of course, to a ripe old age, and we got married and had as good a life together as any married couple can. It wasn't a perfect marriage, but it was ours.

The thing is, though I did age a little, it slowed considerably, and when Sam died, I looked barely any older than I did when I married him.

As for Merlotte's, well, Sam and I had run it as co-owners for a while, but when his health started to fail, and I had to spend more time looking after him, I called Pam and asked if she knew of anyone who could manage the bar for a while. I remember the conversation as vividly as if it had been yesterday.

"Sam won't be able to go on much longer, Sookie," she'd said, pretty gently. We'd been friends for a long time, and she'd become more sensitive about my feelings in that time, though any other humans were still fair game. I guess I wasn't really completely human, anyway. "You need to start making formal arrangements for the future, unless you're intending to run the place on your own."

I hadn't wanted to face up to that, but I wasn't such an ostrich, burying my head in the sand, as I had been in my younger years. "I know," I sighed. "But there are so few people I trust. Sam, of course – and you. That's pretty much it." And The Elephant In The Room, of course, but neither of us mentioned her maker, by unspoken agreement.

She mulled this over for a while. "I'll take on management of Merlotte's for a while, until you make a decision, Sookie," she said finally. "If it works out, I'll buy Sam's share from you when he dies. If you're interested, that is." I was surprised at her offer, but she went on, "it will help me keep tabs on you, my little trouble-magnet friend, without our dear King knowing what I'm up to." She had about as much time for Felipe de Castro as I did.

But that's precisely what happened. She bought me out of half the bar when Sam died, and we'd run it together ever since. Karaoke night had proved a huge hit when we instigated it as an experiment, and now we ran it on the fourth Friday of every month. Pam had taken the mic a few times, and it went down a storm when she did – I was surprised that she had a really good singing voice. She'd tried to coax, wheedle, bully, and threaten me into having a go, but I'd cried off; too soon after Sam had died, didn't like being the centre of attention, most of all, couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

She'd responded by giving me a course of singing lessons for my 200th birthday. I know, right? Talk about single-mindedness. That's Pam for you.

I'd finally given in, after a lot of singing lessons from a pretty were-mockingbird (I'm not kidding, they do exist), and tonight was going to be my first time singing karaoke. I was as nervous as hell and had practised long and hard to get the song – and old, old song by now – right. Pam had helped me choose it, after I said I wanted to sing something for The Elephant In The Room (she'd cackled with laughter when I'd described him that way). It would mark two hundred years since he'd gone to Oklahoma; two hundred years since I'd seen him; two hundred years since I'd spoken to him. In those two hundred years, I'd never once forgotten him, never stopped loving him, even through my marriage to Sam; there'd been a place in my heart carved out for him all that time.

I made her promise to be on hand to take over if I flunked it, and she rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine," she said firmly. "Stop doubting yourself. Go and sing your heart out for The Elephant In The Room. Sing it as if he's there, as if he's listening."

"Pam…"

"Oh, very well. If you can't finish, I'll take over. Happy?" She gave me a none too gentle shove towards the microphone, and I gulped in a deep breath, and a couple more to calm my nerves.

"Hi, everyone. Most of you know me as Sookie Merlotte, but you may not know that I was married before Sam. This song goes out to my first husband, wherever he is." Then, with a nod to Bill, who was manning the PA system, we got underway.

"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry,
Don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets, ask me your questions,
Oh, let's go back to the start.
Running in circles, coming up tails,
Heads on a science apart.

Nobody said it was easy;
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy;
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Oh, take me back to the start."

My eyes had closed, as I focussed on getting the notes right, not crying (because, damn it, it still hurt, after all these years), but my voice wobbled, and my mind searched out in desperation for the comforting void of Pam coming to my rescue. There was a void approaching, too tall for Pam; I wondered if Bill was going to sing instead.

He took the microphone from my hands, but instead of Bill's light tenor (he'd sung karaoke a time or two, dedicating his songs to me, which I found deeply uncomfortable), a deeper baritone voice took up the song. I opened my eyes wide and looked at him.

"I was just guessing at numbers and figures,
Pulling the puzzles apart;
Questions of science, science and progress,
Don't speak as loud as my heart.

Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me,
Oh, and I rush to the start.
Running in circles, chasing our tails,
Coming back as we are."

He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze; a glance towards the bar revealed Pam with bloody tears flowing unashamedly down her face, but she gave me a 'get on with it' look; I realised she'd set me, and possibly him, up for this, and I hadn't seen it coming. I stepped closer to him, into his arms, joining in the refrain.

"Nobody said it was easy;
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy;
No one ever said it would be this hard.
I'm going back to the start.

Oh…"

I hid my face against his chest, trembling, fighting back my tears. He held me close as rapturous applause erupted around the bar. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us needed to. The Elephant In The Room was gone, and in his place was the lover and husband I could never forget.

We were going back to the start.

A/N: The song is Coldplay's "The Scientist", but I was actually listening to a cover of it by Vox Angeli, which is worth checking out if you don't know it.