A/N Hello again! Here is the sequel to Home for Christmas I have been promising those of you who reviewed my one-shots Eric Northman is Not Hot! (I was so expecting to get lynched for posting a story with that title on this site!) and The Naming of Things. This is just a short chapter I'm afraid, but it kind of sets the scene. So we're now a few weeks on, end of January.

And for those of you interested in weather-watch Auckland, it is now officially Spring, the clocks have gone forward, it's quite warm, and I think I caught some sun hanging the washing out earlier today. Hard to believe last week it was pouring with rain, I couldn't remember when it had last been sunny and I was sitting here with the heater on. Yeah, sometimes a bit of transition is nice!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

SPOV

I rolled over and looked at the clock. 11pm. Which made it…what? Five hours since I'd left Eric at the airport. And I was lonely. Terribly, desperately lonely. So lonely that I was seriously considering getting the t-shirt Eric had left in the laundry hamper back out and dressing his pillow in it. But even I could tell that would be weird.

But I couldn't sleep. And I couldn't shut up the nagging voice that suggested that maybe that view of Eric walking off at the airport was the last glimpse I'd ever see of him. He'd left a car in the driveway, and clothes in the drawers, but still...he'd had his holiday in New Zealand now. Maybe he was ready to go back to his old life.

Maybe I should have let him buy me an engagement ring. Because surely you wouldn't leave someone if you'd bought them a ring? I guess you still could if you really wanted to.

I was obviously a bad person to be thinking this way, because really Eric hadn't done anything to suggest he wasn't coming back. It was only two weeks, he was coming right back as soon as he could get everything cleared out of his apartment and put it on the market, and sell his car. Well that's what he said anyway.

Of course lying here all I could think about was that he was very far away. Well, on a plane at any rate, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. And how hurt he looked every time I said it was silly to spend money on a ring for me when we could use it to buy a business.

I was still lying there at midnight. I really missed having Eric with me, even if he did drape himself all over me all the time. And now that it was the end of January it was really getting a bit hot to be sharing all that body heat. But I wouldn't mind tonight, I thought. I probably wouldn't even do that thing I did sometimes where I surreptiously jabbed my heel in his shin to get him to move a bit. No, I wouldn't mind at all being smothered tonight.

And as you sometimes do when you can't sleep I decided to do all sorts of fun things to torture myself. I tried to work out which would be worse, Eric dying (like lots of people seem to do on me) or him leaving me. Of course Bill had managed the double of leaving me then dying, so he'd always win the 'how many times can you break Sookie's heart' competition.

Because obviously that's a competition we should hold every year.

And then I got to thinking that if my fairy godmother showed up tonight and said I could have Bill or Eric back, which one I would pick. To try to be really fair I tried to remember what Bill was like before the drugs and slot him back into our lives now. I felt sure he'd struggle with Amelia; he did a bit when she was younger, but she was even more headstrong now. And so stubborn. And Bill was all for girls behaving nicely, although I'm not sure where he got that idea from because I'd met his sisters. I guess life with him would be…OK, but only just OK. Or maybe not because I suspected we really weren't suited, that what had made him a good boyfriend when I was 18 didn't necessarily translate to him being a good husband when I was 34. When it came down to it I was actually much happier with Eric. I had fun with Eric. I could be myself with Eric. And the sex was…phenomenal.

OK, so Eric wins that one. I lie there wishing I could sleep, but it's just not happening.

I start to think how much nicer it would be if I was on the plane with Eric right now. Although knowing Eric he'd be trying to get me to join the mile high club. Shit, he wouldn't be doing that with someone else would he? Maybe I should have got him a ring, although I don't know that it really screamed 'fuck off he's taken' in quite the way I'd like. Maybe something more along the lines of Bob's collar and tag with his name and address and my cellphone number on it might be better?

I guess though that those tags really work best for getting them returned to you if they're lost, like if Eric falls down drunk somewhere. Which brings me to the next worry for this hour of the morning, because by this stage it's about 1am. What if Eric starts drinking again? Like, binge-drinking and doing stupid shit? There's no one to watch out for him in the States and although he's had a couple of sessions with the counsellor now, I don't think he's exactly all better yet.

The counselling sessions were pretty hard on him I think, although he didn't want to talk about it to me at all. First time he came home I heard his car and then…nothing. I think he just sat in the car for an hour. And then he came in and it was like nothing had happened. Second time it was maybe 45 minutes, third time about half an hour. And now he was back in the States with god knows what temptations.

This is a really crappy way to spend a night.

In the end I decided I might get up and go and watch my children sleep for a bit, which is always a fairly relaxing activity. I tiptoed into Amelia's room. She had chucked all her covers off in the heat and was lying on her stomach with several toys tucked under each arm. I stood and looked at her, with her face relaxed in sleep she looked like my little baby again. I kissed her cheek, pulled up her sheet and left.

Felicia was sleeping across the cot again. I don't know why she thought that was a good idea. So I reached in and scooted her around, which caused her eyelids to flutter but she barely stirred. It was funny but only when they were asleep could I really see the similarities between Felicia and Amelia. All of a sudden you realised their noses and lips were identical. I kissed Felicia and headed back to my room.

I got back into bed feeling not exactly better, but a bit more content. No matter what happened I still had my babies. And they needed me. And Eric would be back soon and then we could get on with our lives. We had Felicia's first birthday to look forward to, and Judith and Calvin's wedding. Eric would be back for all of that, I was sure he would.

I looked at the clock. It was now 2am, so if I was lucky and everyone slept in to a reasonable time I might get four and a half hours sleep. Fingers crossed for that.

It was going to be a bloody long two weeks.

EPOV

Sookie was right. It was a fucking long way to New Zealand, and it was just fucking depressing knowing that I was getting further and further away from her with every minute that passed.

There's not much you can do on a plane but sit and think. I tried watching one of the movies, but I couldn't really get into it. I tried reading, but I kept reading the same sentence over and over again. I was fucking tempted to drink myself into a coma, but one of the air hostesses kept coming by to 'check I was OK' and I really didn't want to leave myself at her mercy.

Fuck I thought, things have changed in the last four months.

So there was nothing I could do but sit and pretend to sleep, so the annoying air hostess would leave me alone, and think. And all I could think about was Sookie. And how she'd be asleep now and I should be there with her, holding her. And trying to avoid her heels as she seemed to like to kick me in her sleep.

It had only been a few hours since I'd left and I missed her already. I wondered if she missed me, or if she was…glad to get rid of me? Surely she wouldn't have let me stay all this time if she just wanted me to go?

But two weeks was a long time. Maybe she'd change her mind?

Fuck. I shouldn't have left. I should have taken a leaf out of Bob's book and just fucking stayed put. It doesn't matter how many times Sookie tried to move Bob off the ottoman, if he doesn't want to go he doesn't, and eventually she gives up. I should have tried that move. Fuck Victor and his need for a proper exit interview.

Surely though, she wouldn't have asked me to marry her if she wasn't serious? You didn't do that, and then wait for someone to go away for work, and then, what, change the locks?

If only she'd let me buy her an engagement ring.

I got that she didn't want to waste money, I really did. And I even kind of understood, although Sookie wasn't saying it, that she'd done all this shit before. I knew her rings were put away for Amelia and Felicia to have one day. But I really wanted to give her something special, something that said how much she meant to me, and she fucking wouldn't let me. Was that a sign? That she wasn't really as into this as I was?

Fuck, planes are hot and cramped and noisy and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep when I had all this shit running around my head. I wanted to hear Sookie's voice. I wanted her to tell me it was all OK and she'd see me in two weeks. I wanted to go home.

Instead I was in a fucking plane heading to the States. Where I was going to have to try really hard to avoid anything to do with my old life. Three miserable fucking sessions with a counsellor and I was patently not fixed, I was just more aware than ever that I was fucked up. Hopefully not fucked up beyond repair, but you never knew. This trip was going to be one hell of a test.

This was a long fucking flight. And even when I got to LA I had to get on another plane to Shreveport. How the fuck did I not notice just how far away I was going when I left?

I guess alcohol has some things going for it.

I make another attempt to get interested in a movie, but I still can't focus. The movies in my head are infinitely better. I close my eyes and go over the last few weeks with Sookie and the kids, the trips to the beach, the picnics in the backyard, Amelia on the trampoline. Sookie on the trampoline…although I realise pretty quickly that I shouldn't spend too much time thinking about that image. Better to keep things fairly PG rated while I'm stuck on this fuck-awful plane.

I loved Sookie so much. And two weeks wasn't so long really, was it? It would be OK, I'd get back and it would be like I'd never been away. Amelia would talk at me, Felicia would throw things in my general direction, and Sookie, well, Sookie would look at me and smile and it would all be OK. I'd be where I needed to be. And maybe she'd even change her mind and let me buy her that ring. I just needed to suck it up and get through the next two weeks; clear my stuff out of my apartment, put it up for sale, get the car sold. Go into the office and hand their shit back and smile and nod while Victor drones on about whatever the fuck he thinks is interesting that day, and then it's over and I can go home again. I can do it.

Fuck, I thought. Who am I kidding? It's going to be miserable. It's going to be a fucking long two weeks.

Thanks for reading!