Disclaimer: I own none of the characters; I'm just a writing minion.
Note: I expect this story to end at around fifty or so chapters. I also don't have a beta so I apologize for the errors!
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Chapter One: Gus
I missed my cat.
Honestly a revelation like that should have been followed up with an epic 'DUH'; after all, it had been impossible not to look at Bob, back when he was still a feline, without some sense of melancholy given that his predecessor had met her end at the blades of a ceiling fan. Pets in general provided a quiet sort of company to me that was a refreshing change from the twenty-four hour human discovery channel, and even with Amelia in my home there was something to be said about having a life form around that didn't talk back.
It was simple, really. I woke up this morning, decided I missed Tina, and set off to do something about it.
That was how I came to be standing at the chain linked fence of the local cat shelter, nodding to a woman named Marcie who was yammering on enthusiastically about what it meant to find 'the one.' The one cat, that is. She saw it as trying to pick out a lover, but just a more expedient, albeit one-sided, process.
I was disturbed too.
After I filled out the appropriate paperwork via clipboard and ballpoint pen, she led me inside and had me wait a few minutes while she filed my forms away. Once that was taken care of, I followed her upstairs into a room she called the cattery, feeling much more excited than I thought I would be.
To an extent I was surprised the cattery was as full as it was. I'd come to terms with the supernatural world a long time ago, and a part of that process was accepting that ingesting furry, woodland creatures and other such things was not only a necessity to some, but sport for the local were community. Bubba came to mind briefly, and I shoved that thought down quick. But in all it seemed logical to assume most strays would've become dinner one way or another, effectively clearing up the streets. I loved animals, and I didn't like it, but as usual all I could do was sit back and look the other way.
I would've voiced my question to Marcie had I not figured her to be a woman to freak out at the simple mention of supes. She was slightly jittery, smelled faintly of cat urine and disinfectant and wore a set of heavy, wire-rimmed spectacles that were completely disproportionate to the size of her small face. As she peered up at me from behind them, her eyes as big as saucers, I couldn't help but feel like I was being evaluated.
"Do you see any one that you like, dearie?" She asked, snapping me out of my thought bubble.
I squinted hard at the dozens of fur balls tracking my every move, some suspicious, some hopeful, and others lost in a catnip-induced daze. Somewhere to my far right, a cat yawned lazily.
"They're all beautiful," I said politely, and her response immediately informed me I had said the right thing. She was beaming. "It's hard to choose just one. Whichever I pick will be with me for life, so I have to be completely certain."
I think that last statement got me bonus points.
When I'd first met Marcie earlier, a little foray into her mind yielded mostly boring, but useful details on the type of people she considered worthy adopters. I'd done my research and was aware that even if I wanted a cat, that didn't necessarily mean I'd get one. Shelter workers were notoriously stringent with their adoption criteria, and my subtle manipulation with Marcie told me on a more conscious level just how desperately I really wanted a cat. A real cat, and not a person that could look just like a cat and then transform into a naked human when I least expected it.
She left me alone after that, and I was free to wander the cattery without interruption. The room was full of natural light, courtesy of a sunroof, and the walls were painted in a cheery pale yellow color that reminded me of how a gender-neutral baby's room might look. The center of the cattery was dominated by an elaborate set of interconnecting scratching posts mounted upon a sturdy wooden base covered in colorful fabric. Most of the adult cats clung to this structure, while the kittens were more focused batting around the fake mice and balls of yarn that littered the floor.
It was a beautiful space; peaceful, and nicer than I'm sure a lot of people's homes were, and for a second I felt overwhelmed by the kind of generosity humans were capable of – the kind of generosity that had provided these animals with an area to sleep, water to drink, food to eat, and people as obsessive as Marcie to look after their well being. Too often I was privy only to the darker, less charitable side of human nature, and it was nice to see that outside of my supernatural prison that society was still capable of a couple good deeds.
I felt tears welling up, and quickly brushed them away with the back of my hand. That time of month had to be coming, because I was feeling way to sensitive for my own good.
But I had a mission to complete, and as soon as I righted my state of mind, I would choose the newest, fuzziest member of the Stackhouse household and bring him or her home.
As if on cue, I heard a soft mewing, and looked down to see a young tomcat, not yet quite fully an adult, leaning into my legs and purring contentedly. He was shorthaired, a tabby, and had gorgeous sky blue eyes.
Two hours later, 'Gus' and I left the shelter. Marcie was pleased.
It was a long drive to and from the shelter, so it wasn't until eight thirty in the evening that I finally returned home. I found Amelia relaxing in front of the television, intent on someone she referred to as 'McDreamy' on screen. I hadn't warned her ahead of time about Gus, so she was caught a bit off guard but quickly settled into the idea of having a new cat after Gus mewed several friendly overtures. Amelia adapted well like that, and it was one of the reasons why I loved having her as a roommate.
After I had Gus settled, the litter box set up and a bowl of kibble stationed in the corner of the kitchen, I asked my roommate if she had any preference for Pizza or Chinese, but she waved me off and muttered something about ghost sex.
I still worried about her sometimes, but she seemed to have recovered from the events of the Fae war much better than I had, at least on the surface. She usually had nothing to hide, being the loud broadcaster than she was, but I was well aware of her ability to shield stuff from me if she really wanted to. She was a witch, after all. We all needed time to heal, and I respected her need for space.
As I was trying to order Chinese takeout -- 'trying' due to my argument with the woman on the line over how many packets of soy sauce I was owed with my meal -- I heard a small 'beep' on my phone which indicated call waiting and asked the her whether she'd mind holding for a minute. I didn't give her a chance to protest before I switched lines.
"Hello?"
"Evening, lover. Are you alone?"
I rolled my eyes. "We are not having phone sex. I'm in the middle of ordering oily takeout."
"Mmm promise to grease yourself up afterwards?"
"Goodbye Eric," I sighed, about to return to the woman at 'Chang's Chinese Cuisine when Eric said, "wait."
My finger paused mid-air. "What is it?"
"I need to come see you. It is of much importance"
"Are you sure this can't wait until tomorrow? I can drop by after work."
"No," was his clipped reply.
I sighed, and after a brief pause said, "fine." I wasn't in the mood to argue. "I'll see you in a bit."
By the time I switched back over to the other line, I realized the dragon lady had hung up on me.
"Stupid Viking," I muttered, unwilling to go through the ordering process again and hating that I was now resigned to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner. Eric owed me a very, very expensive meal, preferably one that involved imported steak.
Twenty minutes later, I heard a knock at the door. I'd felt him long before he had even set foot on the porch, but instead of the joy the blood bond usually brought me, there was only a touch of wariness from the normally chipper Viking.
I opened the door and immediately felt a momentary thrill of pleasure that had nothing to do with the blood bond. Eric was a gorgeous man, and he knew how to preen his feathers well. Tonight he was wearing his usual Fangtasia ensemble, complete with black butt-hugging leather pants and a sleeveless bar tank that hid none of that wonderful musculature he was so famous for. A lesser woman would have been fanning herself by now.
However instead bestowing upon me one of his many amorous greetings, he took a curious sniff of the air. A second later his blonde eyebrows shot up.
"You have been invaded."
"Whaa--" was the only coherent thing I was able to say before one very large Viking slid past me (in a completely non-erotic way, sadly) and disappeared into my kitchen. Frustrated, I slammed the door shut and stalked after him.
Of all the things I've discovered in my kitchen -- and there have been plenty -- the last thing I ever expected was to see Eric involved in an apparent stare-off with a cat. They were both glaring at each other from opposite ends of the table, Eric rigid and hunched over with his knuckles pressed down on the surface, and Gus two feet away with his tail stick straight in the air. Oh, and this was the best part -- they were both showing fang.
Secretly, I was glad I'd gotten a cat instead of a dog. There would be less pee to clean up when they both decided to mark their territory.
As I contemplated the tension in the room, Amelia wandered in, oblivious to all, and thankfully made the introductions.
"Eric, Gus. Gus, Eric," she drawled, ignoring both of them as she rummaged through the fridge, presumably for some source of caffeine. Amelia had developed a notable hatred for coffee, and had let me know earlier this morning that she would be up late tonight chatting with an old friend of hers via webcam. She'd winked at me then, and I had to wonder if 'chatting' was all they were going to do. Even now I held on tight to my shields -- the last thing I needed was a mental image of my roommate naked.
If either of them heard her, they made no show of it. Disgusted, I finally decided to do something and smacked Eric on the back of the head.
"Earth to Eric!" I snapped. I was irritated, tired, and hormonal. Even Eric knew better than to test my patience with all those elements stirring the pot, and his head jerked up as if I'd physically knocked him out of his trance. Which I had… sort of. But still, I didn't expect him to react so quickly.
To my further surprise, his fangs receded, and he only nodded sharply to me before throwing Gus another dirty look and making his way to the living room. No lewd comments, no attempts to feel me up, nothing. My heart sank. He really had serious business to discuss, which meant that one way of another I was due for some serious hurting.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I petted Gus on the head then followed Eric out. He'd taken a seat on the EZ-boy, not the couch where he could be within arm's distance of me, and I took that as another sign that something was wrong. He stiffened slightly as I sat down, as though mentally preparing himself for what he had to say. His shields must have slipped slightly as he did so, because I suddenly felt myself awash in a sense of unease so murky and dark I began gasping. It was everything I had felt from him earlier magnified to an infinite degree.
"What the hell?" I swore, even as I suddenly found him beside me, propping me up, one large hand on my back. It took me a few more seconds to calm down, and when I was finally able to breathe properly I noticed Eric's attention had drifted elsewhere. To the ceiling, apparently. One of his hands then sought out my own, and grasped it tight.
We sat in stony silence for a while, until finally he looked back down at me, his face unreadable, "Sookie," he began, slowly, perhaps for dramatic effect. "Do you trust me?"
Of all the possible things he could have said in that moment, he had to say the one thing that would set me off.
I knew it was unfair of me, but every nasty, repressed emotion I had felt over the past few months suddenly coalesced into a frightening stream of consciousness that was violent enough to make one of the most powerful vampires I'd ever known to drop my hand like a hot potato.
Whatever I was feeling, the blood bond was singing with it. Or screaming. Whatever.
More silence.
"I guess that answers the question," he said, his voice having reached a level of glacial I wasn't even aware of.
That did it. I was officially pissed. "Oh no, you do not get to be snippy with me!"
Eric's face was stormy, but I was on a roll now. "I'm so sick of all your vampire shit. Do you think you can just come over, sweet talk me into doing whatever you say based on your word I won't get hurt?"
I stood up then, jerking away from him and wishing I had the strength to slap him hard enough he'd actually feel it. "I am so sick of your shit," I repeated, surprised to feel hot, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. "You have no idea…"
I let the sentence trail off, not trusting myself to complete it. Because continuing on would have meant letting him know exactly how the scars I still bore twitched in my dreams, and how I still remembered those endless hours that shack, helpless and immobile and unable to do anything but bleed. It would also mean admitting how scared of the dark I'd really become.
I hadn't confided the more sordid details of that night to anyone, although Amelia had probably come the closest to guessing how badly the torture had affected me. She thought I had survivor's guilt, which probably wasn't too far from the truth – but she had also commented that I was being quite merciful to Eric by concealing the full extent of the experience from him. When I asked her to explain, she simply shrugged and said that in a way it's easier to be the one hurting than to watch someone you love in pain.
While I didn't agree with her entirely, I'd taken no offense to her words; she meant well, and I knew she wasn't trying to trivialize what had happened to me. But I was now angry to a point where I wanted Eric to suffer as much as I had. I wanted him to feel my pain – I wanted him to take the burden from me and shoulder it with all his strength.
He'd stayed oddly still during my rant, which had probably taken all of ten seconds. One could even mistake him to be made of marble if they only just entered the room, and irrationally I loathed the fact that I couldn't see the rise and fall of his chest. He was a beautiful dead thing, animated for some inexplicable reason to complicate my life, and behind those steely blue eyes was a mind too far away for me to reach. I could never be close to him -- not in the way that really mattered.
Was that what it really came down to?
"Please leave," I said quietly, moving backwards across the room to stand by the television, a safe distance away from him. My hands balled into fists and I tried hard to avert my gaze from his. "I don't want to say anything else I'll regret. But know for now that I'm through with being a plaything for you vamps and your politics."
He inclined his head slightly, his expression now schooled into a pensive frown. For some reason his anger at my outburst seemed to have diminished. "You are not being rational tonight, Sookie. We will talk later."
My eyes flashed.
"Alright then" I said, emphasizing each and every syllable, as if speaking to a fellow dim-witted blonde. "Unless it involves the destruction of the galaxy or you hear that aliens have landed and wish to make a slave race out of my people, leave me the hell alone. Clear enough for you?" I practically shouted.
So much for not saying anything I'd regret come morning.
Eric stood then, in a graceful motion that seemed impossible for a man of his height. Without saying a word to me, he turned and let himself out.
My shoulders sagged forward the second I felt his presence move beyond the shadows of my house.
Truth be told, I knew I was being childish, but I figured I deserved an outburst or two. One can only have so many near death experiences before they snap, and better I did so to Eric mockingly and in private instead of in a room full of vampires. On a positive note, at least it was out of my system now…
… Or perhaps I was afraid this was only the tip of the iceberg, and that the eventual showdown between Eric and I might be much, much worse. Then I would have to address it all as an adult, in complete seriousness, and Eric and I would have to decide where exactly we stood with enough other. As if we haven't had to do that a thousand times already.
Since Amelia hadn't come barreling into the room by now, I could only assume she had her headphones on and was absorbed with whatever she was doing with her webcam. The coast was clear.
There was only one thing left to do.
I settled onto the couch, curled up into a ball, and cried.