A/N : OK, I know, another story! And new territory as it is. I'm quite nervous for not writing about our boys, as I still love them fiercely but Eric and Nicole do fascinate me and the actors are so, so good at what they do. So, I was talking with 1984winstons and she challenged me. So blame her or thank her, depending! Thanks you 1984winstons, for the plot, the title, the corrections and the encouragement. You're a great friend!

Eric strolled around the little aerodrome. It was hot. It would always be hot here. It was surprisingly crowded. He knew most all the faces now and he suspected that most people here, had come to talk, rather than take a plane. The man at the desk was talking with a very beautiful young woman who was standing next to two children and a bunch of adults. Seeing the easy banter and the resemblance, it seemed they were his family. Eric sighed. Family. He missed them a lot. His nephews and nieces, blond and beautiful, like his sister. And his great-niece, Ari. The last time he had seen her, she was in his nephew's partner's arms. It was funny how Eric had never second-guessed his reaction to learning Will was gay. It went against what he had been taught, what he had been asked to preach, but he hadn't judged, he had just embraced it. The reason he had wanted to be a priest was because he wanted to share God's love, not condemn. Sami was updating with photos of all those kids and also gave him news of her love life. No surprise here, she didn't know what to do, who to trust, especially herself...

But more than anything, he missed his mother and his heart was growing heavy, here in the over-heated building, with the throbbing of the giant ceiling fan, wanting to see her, to hug her, to know more. When he had received the news, in an e-mail because he hadn't given any phone number, he had sat on the nearest chair and cried, like a child. He had been surrounded by questions from the kind-hearted locals, the very ones he spent his time helping, that is when he wasn't on the look-out for photos outside the village, shooting protests and riots with his bare camera. He got paid for these by a prestigious magazine. It wasn't much, though, but it didn't matter. He had been living here, in the camp for almost a year, now, with the other volunteers, It was hard work and no comfort and it was just what he needed. No time left to regret or to wonder what exactly he was regretting. His heart had stopped screaming after a few months, even though, in the deep of the night, he would still see a shoulder, alabaster, blond hair, framing a delightful face and he would wake up, his heart pounding, the guilt still fresh, although unnecessary now. He was defrocked. His career was behind him and she was lost to him too. He couldn't say goodbye. If he had tried, he wouldn't have been able to leave, so the last memory he had was of her with him in the town square laughing in each other's arms. She was happy. He knew that, but it was an ineffective balm on his open wound.

He hadn't dared ask Sami about her whereabouts. His sister hated her with a passion. Eric wished he could share Sami's feelings but hating wasn't who he was. He had a fleeting smile at the thought of Sami as a priest, running wild with fury during a sermon. Anyway, abstinence would have been a problem. It wasn't to him, well until... The announcement shook him off his daydreams and he prepared to embark, his mind back on his mother, prayers echoing in his skull, deals being made with above. Please, save her and I'll become a better man."

Soft noises, comfortable seats, quiet. The plane glided through the night, approaching New-York. It looked so cold. The wind hit him hard, the effervescence of the city a contrast to the tranquil pace he had grown used to. Here people elbowed him without a word, in a hurry to get to their home and so was he.

Hours later, here he was, standing at the Salem's bus terminal, having called Sami. She couldn't come but someone would pick him up. He hadn't asked. He ached in a numb way, wanting nothing more than a cup of tea, or even alcohol, something to reheat his bones. Car's lights traced a beam in the dark and the window opened:

- Climb in, Eric! Nice to see you again!

- Oh, hello Sonny, likewise!

He was sincere. It was good to be greeted by someone he wasn't related to. Of course, Sonny was with Will, so he was extended family. But he had a solid countenance that no Brady shared. Even Marlena had passions running under her skin. And now something was. Maybe.

Sonny talked about simple things during the ride. How his daughter had learned how to walk. How the war on where Thanksgiving dinner would be held had finally ended and Caroline had won, saying that there were so many of them now, only the Pub could accommodate it. How Will was acing his exams, his first publications being appreciated. Eric smiled at their simple, happy life. They deserved every minute of it. They had gone enough hardship to last them a lifetime. He asked to see a picture. Sonny gave him a smile that showed he wasn't duped. But he took out his wallet and showed the photo. Arianna was fidgeting and both men were looking adoringly at her. Gabi, Ari's mother wasn't there. Maybe she had taken the picture. Just before Eric exited the warmth of the car interior, Sonny put his hand on his arm:

- She'll be alright. I'm sure of it. She'll be glad to see you.

- Thank you, Sonny. How is Will coping?

- It's hard on him. She's like his second mother. But we're hopeful."

Now, Sonny could have been a priest. Of course without acting on the being-gay-thing or the being-madly-in-love-with-Will thing. Apparently he had waited a long time to confess his feelings, but he hadn't given up. He hadn't refused himself the right to be happy. Eric had and now it was too late.

He wanted to go the hospital right away, hold her hand, but he wasn't allowed.

- She's resting. Visiting hours are over.

- And when has that ever stopped you little sister?

- When my mother's health is at risk, I happen to follow the rules, little brother, and so will you!

So his twin had sent him to bed. The same Sami who was always fighting bedtime as a child, sneaking in the night, telling him he'd better keep quiet about it. Now a mother. And here he was, a stranger to Salem, worry eating his stomach, and somewhere, a chore of self-centeredness was making him pray that he would not run into her. That she wouldn't be living here anymore. Maybe if he learned that she was married and had moved far away, he could move on? Maybe.