a/n: So I'm feeling emo, (probably because the library doesn't have Dead As A Doornail, and I don't have the money to buy it D:) So I decided to write about how I think Sookie would feel about Eric's absence. I mean, 'Least said, soonest mended. All's well that ends well. Out of sight, out of mind.'? That's bull and you know it. Takes place immediately after the end of Dead to the World. Enjoy.

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"In fact," Eric said , as he went to the front door, "I'd throw it away entirely. Maybe burn it."
He left, closing the door behind him very quietly.
I knew, as sure as I knew my name, that tomorrow he would send me another coat, in a big fancy box, with a big bow on it. It would be the right size, it would be a top brand, and it would be warm.

It was cranberry red, with a removable liner, a detachable hood, and tortoiseshell buttons.
- Dead to the World, pg. 291

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That day was especially slow at Merlotte's, most likely due to the certainly unexpected snowfall, but I was hardly complaining. I'd much rather listen to the slow calming thoughts of Hoyt Thortonberry, sitting at the bar, than get lost inside my own head anyways. I had checked, and re-checked all of the salt and pepper shakers in my area, re-filled the ketchup and mustard bottles, and was currently mopping the floor for the second time. Doing various little things always helped to keep my mind pre-occupied as well. And right now, everything was better than being alone, all to myself. Even Arlene's bored tapping with her long red fingernails on the bar didn't seem as annoying as usual. Her thoughts were mostly centered on her kids, and how long the snow days at school would last. Terry was vigorously scrubbing the grill, de-greasing the fry baskets, and organizing everything in the fridge all at the same time. And for once, the most he was thinking about was the best was to remove grease stains from a pair of jeans. Hoyt was almost finished with his Burger. Andy Bellfleur was nursing his third cup of coffee, glancing at me from time to time out of the corner of his eye. I could hear the ramble of thoughts in his head of doubt. He still didn't believe the story Jason and I had told him, I couldn't really blame him, but I wasn't about to confess anything. And Sam –

"Hey Cher… why don't you head on home?" he called to me from behind the bar, "Terry, Arlene and I got it. Besides, I was thinking about closing up when everyone was done here."

"Alright," I quickly finished with the floor and took the mop and bucket into the back utility closet. I started un-tying my apron as I headed for Sam's office to retrieve my knit cap, scarf, jacket and purse. I wasn't hell-bent on going home, but I didn't feel like arguing about it either. I didn't feel like voicing any of my opinions lately to tell you the truth, I had been keeping mostly to myself. Maybe that was why Sam suggested that I leave early instead of Arlene. Maybe she needed the money more than I did. Whatever the reason, my apathetic and currently pessimistic attitude didn't really care. I said my good-byes to everyone, even good old Andy, pulled on my jacket, and was out the door. I wound the scarf around my neck, and pulled on my cap before starting the walk out to the lot. My shoes weren't particularly equipped for the snow, but they got me to my car just fine. I started it up before I got in, letting the engine idle to get warm, then defrosting my windows. The chains surrounding my tires clinked as I pulled out of the lot, keeping a firm grip on the road. It took me about twenty minutes to get home, a new record in the snow.

The sun was just setting and the house was freezing when I got inside; damn heater had gone out again and the repairman couldn't come for a couple days. I quickly shucked my shoes as I closed and locked the door, turning the shiny knob on the new deadbolt. I had to get a new one, because the only security on my door beforehand was a handful of nails that were hastily hammered in. Shaking the thought from my head, I briskly rubbed my hands together and made a beeline for the bathroom to start removing my layers of clothing. A cap, scarf, two shirts and a pair of jeans later, I changed into some flannel pajama pants, an old long sleeved shirt, threw my pink robe over it, and slid my feet into my fuzzy slippers. The fireplace was practically screaming my name. But before that, I made myself a huge mug of hot chocolate and even plopped a few marshmallows into it. The only real way to have hot chocolate I think. And after starting a healthy fire, I sat on the couch, propping my feet up on the table. The glow and warmth of it was eerily soothing as I watched the flames leap and dance. Remaining keenly focused on not thinking about anything, at all. Just a blank slate. I even spaced out for a bit, because before I knew it my hot chocolate was cold, and the fire was close to being embers. I sat there a bit longer, letting the fire burn out, before I got up to stir it with the ash already resting at the bottom. Briefly glancing to the window, I also noticed that it was already dark. In the subconscious of my mind, I half-expected to hear some sort of noise coming from my old bedroom. Silly me.

I poured out my mug into the sink, washed, dried it, and put it away before heading to my room. I switched on the space heater at the end of my bed, and pulled back the five blankets piled on top of the sheets. Granted, it was only about 6 or 7-o-clock, but going to bed sounded like the best idea. Physically I was fine and alert, but my mind was exhausted. Sometimes not having to block any thoughts out of my head was more tiring than constantly keeping my shields in place. I had just let everything run right through me today, and it was quite a different experience. Quickly removing my robe and slippers, I jumped into bed and pulled the covers over myself as fast as I could. The sheets were freezing! Another good thing about getting into bed early was warming it up before you actually went to sleep. I huddled into the blankets as tight as I could, actually pulling them over my head. I could have turned on the heater before I left for work this morning, but for some reason I just didn't trust it to not burn the house down while I was gone. I let out a hefty sigh and rolled over, the sheets were cold where I had not been laying, which was just great. I was actually still very cold, and it didn't make any sense.

With the space heater, five blankets, and my own body heat I should be roasting, sweating even. But here I was, shivering every so often, curled up like a child with the blankets over my head, and unable to fall asleep. I turned over again and pulled the blankets down to expose my head. I saw the door to my old room out of the corner of my eye, and felt a sharp twinge in my chest. I immediately looked away and busied myself with rubbing my hands together to create heat. Maybe I wasn't yet used to sleeping alone, but that would hardly make any difference. Vampires don't generate body heat, in fact they 're cold themselves, and I shouldn't be this cold with or without one. Maybe I missed the company? Falling asleep had been a lot easier when I had someone to talk to. Even when I talked to Gran after work before going to sleep seemed to ease my mind. Sometimes I called Jason on the phone, but he had his own problems now. There was almost always someone to talk to, but now I was all alone.

Tears actually welled in my eyes and began falling to the sheets below, my heart starting to ache. I pulled the blankets over my head again, and nuzzled into my pillow. I had never involuntarily been so alone before. Sure, when everyone's thoughts were too much for me to handle, I went off to be by myself. But this was something completely different, and I didn't like it one bit. I inhaled, a deep shuddering breath, and nearly wailed in despair. I was sinking into the black hole known as depression, and I was sinking fast. The fear and loneliness was eating at my mind, my heart, a raw searing feeling. I was having a panic attack, a quite severe one at that, and I hated it. I hated it so much. If I could just die, then I wouldn't be able to feel this way. I wouldn't have any of these problems.

"If you died it would be most troublesome for me," a velvet voice chimed in, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I knew that voice, all too well, and now dread began to wash over me. He was the last person that I wanted to see right now, why was he even here? Didn't I rescind his invitation? I shivered again, and pushed my face even deeper into the pillow. Maybe it was just my imagination? If only. There was no denying it when the other side of the bed sank beneath his weight, and a pressure was laid on the blankets covering me.

"Why are you feeling this way?" I wanted to say he had no idea what he was talking about. I wanted to rescind his invitation right then and there. Because then I wouldn't have to deal with him, and I could just go back to wallowing in self pity. But then I remembered the blood bond. Everything I was feeling, maybe even thinking, he was feeling all if it. I could have laughed at the irony.

"Just go away," I groaned, curling tighter in on myself. Not even a second after the words left my lips, the blankets were flung from my body and Eric was glowering in my face. My heart clenched painfully in my chest, and I avoided his eyes.

"I will not 'go away' until you tell me," he grabbed my face and made me look at him, his frown deepening. "What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"

"It's nothing," I mumbled, closing my eyes. I had started to shiver.

"Bullshit," he spat, releasing my face. "You and I are connected, you know that, so you cannot tell me that nothing is wrong with you." He took one of the throw pillows on my bed and grasped it tightly, it was probably beginning to rip.

"I am feeling things that I do not want to be feeling, and they are coming from my link with you."

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have tricked me into drinking your blood."

"That is not the point!" he roared, flinging the pillow across the room. It hit the wall with such force it actually almost bounced back to the bed. He then grabbed my wrists, forcing me to look at him again. His eyes were blazing with anger, and I wondered why I couldn't feel it. I did however feel the pressure on my wrists, and it was somewhat painful. Tears sprung into my eyes again and began to run freely down my face, he loosened his hold a bit.

"Sookie… tell me. I do not like seeing you this way," he said softly, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I wrenched my arms from his grasp and began shoving at his chest, hitting him even. And I cried. I cried, and sobbed and wailed. I was a blubbering mess, but I continued my assault on him.

"It's you! It's you that is making me feel this way!" his eyes widened a bit, but his expression remained stoic.

"You don't remember, you don't remember anything! All of the time you were here, and you don't remember any of it!" I started pounding harder on his chest, and if he were human, he would have gotten bruises.

"And when the spell was undone, and you were back to normal, you had the nerve to joke about it! Immediately back to your usual self, and it killed me! We made love… We did! More than once as a matter of fact, and it was unbelievable! And so help me, if you have anything to say about that I will rescind your invitation, right now, forever." Eric stayed silent, my crying and pounding had lessened in severity.

"You were so tender, and accompanying, and you treated me as if I actually mattered! No one had ever treated me that way before, and then it was all gone. Ruthlessly ripped away from me without so much as a warning… I knew that it wasn't meant to last, but still…" I took a shaky breath, resting my hands on his chest now.

"Part of me… the selfish part, wishes that I would have listened to you that night we fought the witches… You said that we could just go back, and that you would stay with me always. But I knew that it wasn't the real you, the real Eric, but I wanted it to be so badly and… it's just hard," I finished lamely, becoming intently focused on the pattern of the sheets. I actually felt a little bit better, the loneliness didn't seem so overwhelming. The room grew completely silent, save for the soft buzzing from the space heater. I let my hands fall to the bed before me, but I was still too anxious to look up at him. The hush seemed to last forever.

"You do matter," he said, and I looked up at him. He was staring directly into my eyes, and for a brief moment, I felt hint of the connection we had. Then he was off of the bed and across the room, picking up the blankets he had discarded. He brought them back and indicated for me to lay down, then wrapped them securely around me. He removed his jacket, placing it on the chair, then sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks. I gave him a surprised gaze as he leaned back against the headboard and pulled me to him. He laid me between his legs, my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms firmly around me. At first it occurred to me that I should resist, feel uncomfortable in one way or another. But being held like this, with no expectations that I knew of, I was just too tired to fight it. And before I knew it, I was crying again, burying my face into his shirt. Yet another one ruined courtesy of moi, he was developing quite the collection. But right now that didn't matter. He just held me to him, occasionally stroking my back or kissing my hair, and I cried until I fell asleep.

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In the morning when I woke up, I felt and looked like hell. Eric was gone of course. Part of me was tempted to look in my old bedroom for any sign that he might be there. But I just had a gut feeling that he wasn't. That, and the fact that he had left his shirt on a hanger, on the door of my closet.