Naughty or Nice Contest

Title: Christmas Spirit

Your Pen name: ehee

Beta'd by: VampLover1

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Charlaine Harris. No infringement is intended.

A/N: CAUTION! This story contains subject matter that deals with complications of pregnancy, and may be disturbing to some readers. If you are sensitive to such material, please turn around now.

Thanks to VampLover1 for her exquisite beta skills and gnarly wisdom (any mistakes you see are totally mine!); to Indigobuni, my partner in crime in his little contest, for her helpful insight and awesome suggestions; and to ebonyeyez1, my best good friend and hand holder. YOU GUYS ROCK!! SERIOUSLY.

I lie in my bed and think of the first time I saw Sookie Stackhouse. My memories fall around me as softly as the snow piling up on the ground outside – an unusual, albeit not totally unheard of, phenomenon for northern Louisiana, even if tonight is Christmas Eve. The quiet darkness of my room makes it easy for my mind to slip back to that warm early-autumn day…

I had just finished my first day of classes at Louisiana State University. It was the beginning of my senior year; I was working toward a degree in political science, with aspirations of grandeur, a.k.a. Harvard Law. My old man, senior partner of the largest law firm in my home town of Shreveport, had walked this same path some thirty-odd years before me, and it only seemed natural that I follow in his footsteps.

Accompanied by my roommate and best friend, Bill Compton, I breezed into Study Hall, the local just-off-campus hangout where students met for sodas, sandwiches, and study sessions. Heads turned and hands waved as we wound our way through the maze of tables and bodies, finally reaching our destination at the far corner booth that awaited us every day at this time. My celebrity status on campus afforded us this boon; I was to be this year's starting quarterback on the Tiger football team, which could have probably given me pretty much free rein around campus, had I let it. As it was, I settled for the availability of our corner booth at Study Hall, and the occasional random encounter with a pretty face from the cheerleading squad.

Sam Merlotte, owner of Study Hall and generally the student body's best friend, waved amicably from behind the counter as we took our seats. We hadn't even had time to make ourselves comfortable before the bony ass of Arlene Fowler was sliding into the seat beside me. She and I had shared a little afternoon delight a couple of weeks before, and since then she shadowed me like we were joined at the hip.

"Hey, Eric," she breathed dreamily in my direction. I chanced a glance out of the corner of my eye and, oh hell…there it was. She was looking at me with that moon-eyed expression that says "I can't wait for my parents to meet you." Nothing but bad news as far as I was concerned. I gave Bill my best "help a brother out of some shit" look across the table; he just quirked his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. I made a mental note to return the favor the next time the chance presented itself.

Determined to nip in the bud whatever plans Arlene had cooked up for us, I quickly excused myself from the table under the pretense of a call from nature, and made a beeline for the restroom. I took care of business, spent extra time washing my hands, and generally goofed off as much as was inconspicuously possible before returning to our table. I flung the door open and stepped out of the restroom…and ran smack into everything I never knew I wasn't looking for.

"Oh crap!" exclaimed the most heavenly voice that had ever graced my ears, as a tray of Cokes and cheeseburger baskets came crashing down around us.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," I apologized as I bent over to pick up the mess off the floor. Miss Angel Voice, having the same thoughts, bent over at the same time. The resulting crack of our foreheads meeting on the way down could have been heard all the way to the front door. The blow sent us both reeling, each of us staggering backward to opposite sides of the hallway.

"Oh, man," she exclaimed as she rubbed a red spot above her left eye that promised to later be an ugly bump. "Gran always tells me I have a hard head – guess it came in handy this time, huh?"

I let out a snort, followed by a little chuckle. "Funny, my dad always says the same thing about me," I replied. "Although I don't think he means it quite like this."

My eyes focused enough that I could now see the vision of loveliness standing before me. She was clearly a foot shorter than my six-foot-four-inch frame, with wavy blonde hair and sea-blue eyes. Her beauty literally made my chest ache, and it was a couple of minutes before I could collect myself enough to speak again.

"Hi," I said lamely, when I finally got my breath. "I'm, uh, Eric…Northman." Apparently, my eloquence had jumped on the first outbound train it could find.

"Sookie Stackhouse," she offered, extending her hand for me to shake. "Nice to meet you, Eric."

"Uh, are you new here?" I asked, determined to hold her attention hostage for as long as possible. "I come here every day, and I've never seen you here before."

"Um, yeah, today is my first day, actually," Sookie informed me. "I just transferred to the Baton Rouge campus from Shreveport, and Sam was kind enough to give me a job here." She paused to assess the damage on the floor around us. "I guess we'll see how kind he really is when he gets a load of this mess."

"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "Sam's a cool guy. This certainly isn't the first tray of food to have been dropped around here. Trust me."

"Well, guess I better get a broom and a mop and start cleaning this up," she said as she turned toward the door to the back room where Sam kept the cleaning supplies.

"Here, let me help," I offered as I followed behind her. "After all, it was my fault…"

I stayed until closing that night (much to Bill's disgust, which he tried to pass off as surprise), waiting for Sookie to end her shift. I was so taken by her that I didn't want to be away from her for one minute. I walked her to her dorm, where it took every ounce of willpower I could summon not to kiss her goodnight.

I smile in the darkness as I recall how hard it was for me to say goodnight to Sookie and leave her at her door that evening. I had always been one to play the field, never going out with the same girl more than once or twice. All that changed when I met Sookie Stackhouse. Even on that first night, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

Over the next few weeks, every free minute I could muster was spent with Sookie, getting to know the beautiful soul behind the beautiful face. She was a history major in her junior year, having transferred from LSU Shreveport. She had started college there because it was close to her home town of Bon Temps, where she had been raised by her grandmother after her parents died in a car accident when she was seven.

When I asked Sookie why she transferred here instead of staying close to her grandmother in Shreveport, a pained look crossed her face and she became very quiet. She told me she had a boyfriend who was getting too serious for her liking, so she broke up with him. He didn't take the break-up well and kept calling her and trying to see her. Since he wouldn't take no for an answer, she quietly transferred to Baton Rouge to be rid of him. I was mad as hell to think of Sookie being so upset by someone that she let him run her out of town, but his loss was most certainly my gain.

Semester break brought some major changes to our relationship. I had applied to and, not totally unexpectedly, was accepted into Harvard Law. Sookie still had to complete one more year of undergrad, and we were torn about what we were going to do. We felt the distance between Baton Rouge and Boston was too great for us to try to maneuver, and being apart was not an option for either of us.

Even though she knew the transfer might be difficult, Sookie contacted several schools in the Boston area so she could complete her senior year near me. She was finally able to make arrangements with Boston College, and at the end of the summer we moved to Massachusetts.

Life in Boston was a big change for us. We lucked out and found a small, one bedroom apartment mid-way between Harvard and BC. Most of the time, Sookie had stayed with me in my apartment in Baton Rouge rather than in the dorms, but it hadn't been the same as officially living together. To us, living in the same apartment more or less cemented our relationship and outwardly displayed what we had been feeling all along: we were both in this for the long haul.

I get out of bed and walk to the bedroom window. Pulling back the curtains, I watch the snow falling softly on the tree branches just on the other side of the glass. Memories sting my eyes and clog my throat as I remember our first winter in Boston…

Our first New England snow wasn't epic by Bostonian standards – only about five inches or so – but to native Louisianans who rarely saw more than a few flakes at a time, it was akin to being at the North Pole.

We awoke to a world blanketed in soft white on a rare Saturday morning when neither of us had outside obligations. Sookie sprang out of bed and ran immediately to the closet to grab the cold weather gear we had splurged on less than two weeks before.

"Come on, Eric," she said excitedly as she grabbed my arm and tried to pull me from my warm nest beneath the blankets. "I want to go to the park and build a snowman!"

I groaned and tried to burrow deeper into my little sanctuary, but Sookie had other ideas; in one swift move she yanked the covers completely off the bed, leaving me bare-assed in the chilly bedroom air.

That was enough incentive for me to haul myself up and don the multitude of layers of clothing I was convinced I would need to protect certain precious body parts from frostbite.

Once we were sufficiently bundled up, we headed the few blocks from our apartment to the little park where we laughed, romped, made snow angels, had a snowball fight, and even managed to make a snowman. It was a little lopsided, and we had to improvise on the eyes and mouth since we didn't have real coal (Sookie did, however, remember to bring a carrot for the nose), but we felt like it was a masterpiece.

A few weeks later we celebrated our first Christmas in Boston. It was white and beautiful with all of its greeting-card, big-city trappings. We celebrated alone, however, which made the holiday bittersweet. Business obligations prevented my parents from making the trip to visit us, and Sookie's stubborn independence kept us from accepting their offer of plane tickets home. Sookie's Gran didn't make the trip, citing the fact that she had never flown on an airplane before and was "too old to start now."

So we quietly celebrated the holiday in our tiny apartment, just the two of us. We were just a couple of broke college kids, so there wasn't a lot of money for presents. Sookie bought me a warm wool sweater and I got her a soft knitted scarf with a stocking cap to match. Our gifts weren't much, but they were more than enough since we had each other.

There wasn't room in our apartment for a real tree – or money for decorations, for that matter – but Sookie did manage to find a small ceramic Christmas tree with colored lights at a second-hand shop. We placed it in the living room on the table next to our small TV. When we plugged it in and turned it on, the tiny lights gave off a warm glow that was perfect to make love by.

~o~O~o~

Sookie graduated in the spring and soon landed a teaching position at one of the local high schools. With her salary and what I was able to bring in as an intern with a local law firm, we were able to scrape by on our own, without any help from my parents – which was a good thing, because it put an end to the one thing we ever argued about.

When Sookie and I had first looked into moving to Boston, we knew there was no way we could afford a place on our own as full-time students. We had run the numbers a hundred different ways, but every time we came up short. That was when my folks stepped in and offered to pay our expenses to live off campus until Sookie was out of school. You would have thought they were offering to buy us the entire city. Sookie, having come from a family where living paycheck-to-paycheck was the accepted way of life, had taken extreme offense to their offer. She considered it a personal affront to the independence she so greatly cherished. It was only after they finally conceded to calling the money a "loan" that Sookie had finally backed off and let them help us.

It was during my second year of law school and Sookie's first year as a teacher that we decided to get married. After several months of living together and flirting with the idea of marriage, we agreed we should just do it. Since we were in Boston and all our family was in Louisiana, we opted for a quiet ceremony at a small church not too far from where we lived. My folks were there for us, as well as a few friends we had made since our move; Dad offered to bring Sookie's grandmother as well, but Gran still refused to board an airplane. I felt bad that none of Sookie's family was there, and I know it bothered her as well, but she never let it show.

Our first year of marriage wasn't easy, but we were so crazy in love that it didn't seem to matter. We barely made enough money to pay our bills, let alone have any left over for frivolities. (Not that I had a lot of free time to do much of anything anyway, what with school and my part-time internship.) The occasional rented movie, or maybe a meal at the diner down the street if we were feeling exceptionally decadent, was about all of the entertainment we could afford.

We made it through, though; if anything, our struggles brought us closer together and made us appreciate each other all the more. No matter how tough things seemed, just coming home to Sookie at the end of a long day made everything alright.

After I finished law school, Sookie and I moved back home to Louisiana so I could join my dad's law firm in Shreveport. A lot of people thought I was choosing the path of least resistance; I considered it fulfilling my destiny. Since junior high it had been my dream to take over my dad's business one day. Sookie understood that and stood by me one-hundred percent.

The money I made on my new associate's salary (yes, even the boss's kid had to start out at the bottom of the food chain) enabled us to buy a modest three-bedroom house in an established neighborhood in Shreveport. It was nothing fancy, but it was ours. Sookie took great pains to fix it up, using the earnings from her new teaching position to make it a home for us. She painted walls, sewed curtains, and filled every nook and cranny of the place with all the love she had.

I was never more proud of anything in my life.

Our life was idyllic, like something out of a fairy tale, really. I worked my ass off at the office, determined I wasn't going to ride my father's coattails up the success ladder. Sookie continued to teach, even after I was made a junior partner and her income was no longer really necessary. We had come a long way in the year since we moved back to Shreveport, but the roots of her independence ran deep so I tried not to let her working be an issue with us. If I'd had my way about it, she would have stayed home, barefoot and pregnant, taking care of the house and raising a passel of blond-headed, blue-eyed, carbon copies of us. Chauvinistic? Probably, but sometimes my inner Neanderthal just couldn't be controlled. So sue me. I know lots of good lawyers.

So it didn't hurt my feelings at all when I came home from work one day to find Sookie lying across our bed, eyes red and puffy, and nose dripping. Well, it upset me that she had been crying, but when I found out what she was crying about, I was nothing less than thrilled.

I still feel that thrill yet today, as I think of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, carbon copy of Sookie sleeping just down the hall from me. I knew from the moment I learned of her existence that I would love her; I just didn't have a clue how all-encompassing that love could be, or would need to be…

I sat down on the bed beside Sookie and stroked her hair as she sniffled. "What's wrong, lover?" I asked her softly. "Did something happen at work today to upset you?"

"Not exactly," she replied, her face pressed into the duvet, slightly muffling her words.

I groaned silently and rolled my eyes. Sookie was playing the raging-female-hormones-grab-the-guy's-nads-in-a-death-grip game again; it was one we had played many times, and I knew there was no chance in hell I was going to come close to winning. Being an expert at this game, I knew just how to proceed.

"So why don't you just tell me what did upset you, then?"

Sookie sat up and looked at me through teary eyes. She used the tissue fisted in her hand to swipe at the snot that was dripping from her nose. She was gorgeous, even in such a state. Taking a deep breath, she puffed air through her cheeks and let her words rush out in one jumbled mass: "'mpregnant."

What?! "What?" I blurted out, no brain filter whatsoever.

"See, I knew you would be upset!" Sookie wailed and began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Wait…wait a minute." I rubbed my hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her. When that effort failed, I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my lap. "I'm not upset…just surprised is all. Why would you think I would be upset?"

"Because we never (hiccup) talked about having a baby," Sookie sputtered. "I was so careful, Eric…I mean, I never missed a pill, not once…"

I cut her off before she could work herself into a lather again. "Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay that we're having a baby. I like the fact that we're having a baby. In fact, I'M EXCITED AS HELL THAT WE'RE HAVING A BABY!"

I stood up with Sookie in my arms and swung her around the bedroom. She giggled and playfully punched my shoulder. Then she looked up at me, unshed tears still swimming in her eyes. "Really?" she questioned timidly as she made another swipe at her nose with the crumpled tissue.

"Really," I assured her with a waggle of my eyebrows, as I carried her back to the bed and proceeded to show her just how excited I really was.

~o~O~o~

Sookie's emotions on a normal day were a handful to manage. Pregnant Sookie was enough to send even the most tolerant of souls running for cover. I never knew from day to day if I was going to wake up with my wife or Momzilla. The mood swings were hard on her, too, and I tried to be as compassionate as I could with her. Some days were easier than others.

Since she loved her work and felt like her students needed her, Sookie decided to teach as long as she could before the baby was born. That turned out to be shorter than we expected, however, when right before Christmas break Sookie developed what the doctors called pre-eclampsia, or high blood pressure brought on by the pregnancy. The ideal treatment would have been to deliver the baby, but since she wasn't far enough along to ensure the baby's survival, the doctors decided to treat her with bed rest and observation.

That Christmas was an unusual one for us. Since Sookie was unable to get out of bed other than to go to the bathroom, the holiday was celebrated in our bedroom, of all places. My mother even decorated a small artificial Christmas tree and set it on our dresser since Sookie couldn't enjoy the one in the family room. Everyone gathered around the bed to open gifts, and Christmas dinner was eaten on TV trays and folding chairs so Sookie could join in. We joked and tried to make light of the situation, but deep down I was beginning to worry about the health of my wife and unborn child.

The conservative treatment only lasted a couple of weeks before Sookie's blood pressure continued to climb. She was admitted to the hospital just after the new year for more bed rest and intravenous therapy, including steroid shots to help the baby's lungs develop for early delivery. While this wasn't exactly the way we planned on spending the last weeks of Sookie's pregnancy, we knew it was the best thing for her and the baby.

During Sookie's last weeks in the hospital, I spent as much time with her as possible. She had a private room, courtesy of the incredible medical plan provided by the law firm, so I was able to sleep (thanks to the wonderful nursing staff who "found" a rollaway cot in a storeroom) and shower there as much as I wanted. The doctors limited the number of visitors Sookie could have; this was done to ensure she got all the rest she needed. I came and went as I pleased, as my presence seemed to have a calming effect on Sookie that the medical staff thought was beneficial to her and the baby.

To pass the long hours, Sookie and I watched movies, played cards and games, and talked about anything and everything. Much time was spent discussing what to name the baby; as a result of all of the testing Sookie was subjected to, we learned we were having a girl. I was at a complete loss for a girl's name, having been certain the baby would be a boy and we would name him after me. But, what the hell did I know? In the end we (read: Sookie) decided on Erica Adele, after me and Sookie's grandmother. I felt any child named for me should be a son, but Sookie was adamant that the firstborn should be named after the father, no matter what the gender. I was just glad my name wasn't Rex or Brutus.

Sookie had been in the hospital for about three weeks when I got Dr. Ludwig's frantic call at the office. "Northman, Dr. Ludwig here," she began. "You need to get to the hospital immediately. Complications have arisen, and we're taking your wife into surgery in the next five minutes."

"Five minutes?" I argued. "But it'll take me at least fif--" I got no further before the line went dead. Two seconds later, I was out the door, shouting to my secretary, Pam, to call my dad and tell him to meet me at the hospital.

I made it to the hospital in just over ten minutes. I parked my car directly in front of the main entrance, not caring in the least that I was in a tow-away zone. I could deal with that shit later. My first priority was to get to my wife and unborn daughter.

Not bothering to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs, two at a time, to the Obstetrics Department on the third floor. It took the nurse at the counter a few seconds to recognize the panting, wild-eyed maniac running toward her down the hall. "Felicia," I gasped, "where have they taken Sookie?"

"Follow me, Mr. Northman," Felicia instructed me as she moved from behind the counter and headed down the hallway. "I'll show you to the waiting room."

When we arrived at the windowless little room at the end of the hall, I was glad to see there was no one waiting besides me. I was in such a state of turmoil, I didn't think I could handle being in the presence of another human at that point. I was too keyed up to sit, opting instead to pace back and forth between the rows of chairs lined up against the walls.

Less than ten minutes after I had begun my pacing, Dr. Ludwig's assistant, Indira, rushed into the waiting room, her OR scrubs spattered with blood. I immediately panicked, certain she was wearing my wife's blood on her clothing.

"Mr. Northman, won't you have a seat, please?" Indira asked as she pointed toward one of the rows of chairs.

"I prefer to stand, if it's all the same to you," I replied, my voice sounding harsher than I meant for it to.

"Mr. Northman, it will be much easier for me to talk to you if I don't have to follow you around the room," Indira argued. "Please…have a seat."

For a second I was aghast at Indira's lack of compassion for the situation, but then I realized she was just trying to do her job and I really wasn't making it easy for her. So I perched on the edge of the closest chair, my right knee furiously bobbing up and down in my excited/agitated state. Indira sat in the chair directly across from me.

"So what is going on with my wife?" I demanded without preamble. "Is she okay? What about the baby? When can I see her?" I fired questions at Indira like rounds out of a machine gun.

Indira leaned over and rested her elbows on her knees with her hands hanging down in between. She heaved a big sigh before she began. "Mr. Northman, your wife has suffered a placental abruption."

"What the fuck is that?" I spat, not giving her time to explain. My brain was too busy trying to process pertinent information to bother with filtering what it was sending to my mouth.

Evidently Indira had dealt with frantic husbands before, because she just closed her eyes and dipped her head for a moment before she looked at me and continued. "The placenta is the organ that connects the baby to the wall of the mother's uterus. It supplies the baby with oxygen and nutrients while it is waiting to be born. In a normal pregnancy, once the baby is delivered, the placenta separates from the uterus and is expelled. You might have heard it called afterbirth." I nodded, so Indira continued. "In your wife's case, the placenta separated from the uterus before the baby was born; we call this placental abruption. The abruption has compromised the flow of oxygen and nutrients to the baby, as well as caused your wife to bleed. Since she is far enough along in her pregnancy, and the abruption is severe, our best option at this point is to do a caesarean section and deliver the baby."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut and, judging by the expression on Indira's face, I must have looked like it as well. My lips, which had worked so well moments before, felt wooden and stiff when I tried to speak. "So, what caused this, anyway?" I managed to croak.

"We believe it was caused by her pre-eclampsia," Indira theorized. "It's rare, but it does happen." She reached over and laid her hand on my arm. "Your wife's condition is critical, Mr. Northman, and the baby's life has been compromised as well. We're doing all we can for both of them."

Sookie critical…baby compromised…my brain just couldn't seem to wrap around what was happening. I felt the blood rush from my head, and I leaned over and rested my forehead on my knees to keep myself from passing out.

Indira rose and headed toward the door. "I need to get back to your wife and Dr. Ludwig. Are you going to be okay, Mr. Northman? Is there anyone we can call for you?"

I sat up and numbly shook my head at her. "No, my secretary was going to call my father. I expect him and my mother at any time."

Having delivered her news, Indira left me alone in the waiting room. My mind raced, wondering about the condition of my wife and unborn child. Were they okay? Would they suffer any ill effects from this turn of events?

Waiting in that small room for news of my family was the most brutal torture I could ever suffer.

A few minutes later, the sound of street shoes clicking on the tiled floor caught my attention, and I looked up to see my parents rush in the door. My harried expression stopped them dead in their tracks. I motioned for them to take a seat as I recounted to them what Indira had explained to me.

All we could do was wait.

About an hour later, a grim-faced Dr. Ludwig appeared in the doorway. I knew by the expression she wore that the news wasn't good. My mother, who was sitting on my right, grabbed my hand. My father, sitting to my left, put an arm around my shoulders. Dr. Ludwig took the same seat Indira had vacated earlier.

"Indira tells me she explained the situation to you," Dr. Ludwig began. Too numb to speak, I could only nod at her. "The complications were extreme, Mr. Northman. We had little time to act. That is why we rushed your wife into surgery before you could get here."

Dr. Ludwig stopped and took a deep breath. I silently cursed her hesitation, yet at the same time I feared what she had to say. "The bleeding was severe. We worked as quickly as we could, but your wife's already weakened condition didn't help our efforts."

I clenched my teeth, waiting for the final blow.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Northman. We did all we could, but she lost too much blood too quickly. She's gone. I am so sorry…"

My heart constricts when I recall the horrific damage dealt by those two little words: she's gone. They still rob me of breath as acutely today as they did when Dr. Ludwig first spilled them from her lips. I've heard it said that time heals all wounds. I would like to meet the brainiac who coined that gem so I can tell them they are so full of shit. The wounds inflicted by Sookie's death are as raw today as they were when I lost her twenty-two years ago.

For twenty-two years now it has been me, Erica, and the big, gaping hole in my heart where my wife used to be.

It isn't easy, raising a daughter alone with only half a heart to offer her, trying to be both mother and father to a child who for seventeen years was convinced she killed her mother. It is only by the grace of God (plus an extremely supportive family and a world-class therapist) that Erica and I made it to where we are today.

I drop the curtain and grab my robe and slippers from the side of the bed, glancing at the ceramic Christmas tree on the dresser – the same tree Sookie bought for our first Christmas in Boston. I set it out every year during the holidays; I just can't bring myself to part with it.

I quietly tread down the hallway to the room Erica has occupied since she was deemed strong enough to be released from the hospital all those years ago.

Yes, I live in the same modest house Sookie and I bought when we first came back to Shreveport. With the money I make as managing partner of my dad's law firm I can afford a house ten times this size, but what's the point? It has always been more than enough for Erica and me. And there seems to be some unseen force holding me to this place; I wouldn't be able to feel Sookie in another house, and I want to feel her -- need to feel her – around me.

The door to Erica's room is only partially closed, and I gently push it open far enough for me to enter her room. I quietly walk to her bed and stand for a few minutes, watching her sleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes comforts me and grounds me, preparing me for another loss I must face in just a few days' time.

In the dim glow of the night light, which Erica has slept with since she was four years old, I see the garment bag hanging on the outside of the closet door. It contains the dress my daughter will wear in a week's time when I walk her down the aisle and give her to another man. Will I cease to be her dad then? Am I truly gaining a son, as everyone says, or am I losing my daughter… my blood…the remaining link to the one great love of my life? A single tear tracks down my face, and I wipe it away with a brush of my fingers.

I retreat to my room, praying for a few hours of sleep before the merriment of Christmas commences. Alcide Herveaux, Erica's fiancé, and his parents have invited us to spend Christmas at their home. Alcide has many small nieces and nephews, all of whom will be in attendance; I'm sure the din will be audible for a five-block radius.

Crawling back into bed, I turn on my side and close my eyes, willing sleep to overtake me. I am teetering on the cusp of unconsciousness when I feel a sensation like someone sitting on the edge of the bed. My eyes fly open and I flip myself over, preparing to battle whatever intruder has invaded my house in the few short minutes since I walked back from Erica's room. The intruder, however, is not a "who" but a "what," the "what" being a heart-wrenching figment of my imagination.

"Hello, my darling," Sookie says to me in a voice that is as familiar now as it was the last time I spoke to her more than twenty years ago.

My mouth moves to form a response, but my brain refuses to provide the necessary words. All I can do is gape at the washed-out, watercolor form of my wife.

"It's me, Eric," the figment/wife says softly. "Please don't be afraid."

"I…uh…I'm…I'm not afraid," I stammer, the synapses between my brain and mouth still only partially functional. "I'm…confused."

"I know this is pretty unconventional, and I'm sorry about that," she says. "But this is a one-time shot for me, and I don't have much time to spend with you."

I'm more than awake now, but still totally unable to wrap my head around the events that are unfolding in my bedroom. "Sookie? Is it you? Really you?"

"Yes, my darling, it's really me." Her smile goes all the way to her eyes, and my heart lurches because it is the same smile I have been replaying in my memory for over twenty years.

Awe and wonder join my confusion. "But how…" I start to question, but Sookie holds up a hand to stop me.

"Let's not waste time with 'how'," she suggests. "Let's focus instead on 'why'."

"Whatever you say." I have no intention of splitting hairs with her. Not tonight. Not ever.

"Our baby is getting married on New Year's Eve." It's a statement, not a question. I nod in agreement. "You have done a terrific job of raising her by yourself."

A tear slides down my face, the second one of the night; I want it to be the last, but I'm not holding out much hope for that. "I did the best I could," I say lamely, shrugging one shoulder.

"I only wish I could have helped you," she offers. "I wanted it so badly, but it just wasn't meant to be. But that doesn't mean I wasn't with you."

My brows furrow as the question paints my face. She knows me well enough to know what I'm asking, even without me saying the words.

"I've been watching, Eric. All these years, I've been looking out for you and Erica. Every dance recital…every school play…every scraped knee, sniffle, and fever…I've been right here with you, giving you the strength and courage you needed to raise our daughter alone."

A monsoon of tears is flowing down my face, but I don't care enough to even attempt to dry them. I reach out to Sookie, but my hand merely passes through the watery apparition that is her likeness. I choke back a sob, longing to touch her, aggrieved that I cannot.

"I miss you," I whisper to her. "I miss you so badly, I ache from it. I miss being able to hold you, and kiss you, and love you, and talk to you…"

"I know, baby, I miss you too," she replies. Her eyes glisten, but I can't tell if it's tears or just the rippling effect of her image.

"Eric?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yes, lover?" God, it's been ages since I've called her that.

"Erica is getting married next week," she reminds me again.

"You already said that."

"My job here will be finished – you won't need me to watch over you anymore."

"No!" I shout before I can check myself. I wince at the thought of waking Erica, and lower my voice to a heated whisper. "No! I'll always need you! You can't leave me!"

"I can't stay, Eric." The pain in her voice rips me to the core. "You have to move on. Erica has grown into a beautiful young woman; you have seen to that. Soon she will have a family of her own. Now it's time for you to make a life for yourself. You have to let me go, Eric."

"NO!" I shout again, not caring this time if I'm so loud I wake the neighbors. "You can't leave me now, Sookie! I need you! I love you!"

"I love you, too," she says one last time as the image starts to fade. "But you have to let me go…"

"No! Sookie!" My entire body shakes as the sobs are ripped from the depths of my soul.

"Dad! Dad! Are you okay?" Erica is wide-eyed as she storms into my bedroom. "I could hear you yelling all the way down the hall!"

I grab the robe from the foot of my bed and use it to dry my face. "I'm fine, darling. I just had a dream, that's all."

"About Mom?" Erica asks timidly.

"Yes, about your mother," I reply, thankful my voice sounds steadier than it feels. "It was so vivid it just rattled me for a minute. But I'm okay now."

Erica furrows her brows in doubt. "You sure?"

I wrap her tiny frame in a fatherly hug. "Yes, I'm sure. Now go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I miss her too, Dad," Erica says wistfully as she returns my hug. "And I didn't even get the chance to know her."

"She's closer than you think, sweetheart," I assure her as I softly pat her back. "She's closer than you think."

A/N: The Naughty or Nice One-Shot Contest deadline for submissions is January 17th at 11:59 pm EST.

Click on this link for the contest profile with all the details -- .net/u/2163083/Naughty_or_Nice_List

Click on this link to view the contest submissions -- .net/community/Naughty_or_Nice_One-shot_Contest/76327/99/0/1/