Author's Note: This story was written for Hypnoticeyes for the Sookie's Secret Santa fic exchange. Unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes.

Ask me how I ended up in a bar on Christmas Eve. Go ahead. Ask me. Because I will tell you I don't know. Really, I don't. And not in one of those bizarre Groundhog Day ways, I mean I could physically explain how I arrived there. This isn't that kind of story. But I honestly cannot explain how my life got to a point where I would even end up in a bar on Christmas Eve, by myself, chatting up some random drunk woman about that sad state of affairs I found myself in.

Too much? Perhaps I should back up.

It was Christmas Eve, and I was walking down Ludlow as the sun disappeared between buildings. I was in jeans and a light sweater and all I could think was I couldn't remember it ever being this warm. Certainly not in late December in New York, anyway. I was sweating, hand to God, and if I wasn't irritated already because of the sheer volume of people bursting through the streets I was certainly not enjoying the fifty degree weather.

I shouldn't complain is what you are thinking. I get it, trust me. But there is just something about Christmas that requires a certain atmosphere. An atmosphere that was sorely lacking. I won't lie to you, I wasn't feeling Christmas. And it wasn't sudden, this lack of holiday cheer. No. Sadly, my slowly waning Christmas joy had been slipping away from me more and more each year. Each year I was more stressed about presents, more stressed about the baking and the parties. And most importantly more stressed about where to spend my day.

I envied my friends with families, my married friends who needed to accommodate multiple families. Friends I had in abundance, but family, for me, was harder to come by. I lost my parents at a young age and had been raised by my Gran. I lost her a couple years back, though, and now it was just me and my brother Jason left. Unfortunately, Jason and I very rarely spoke and last I heard he was deputy sheriff in the small southern town we had grown up in.

On a day to day basis this very rarely affected me. I had surrounded myself in life with many loving people, generous and loyal friends who quite nicely filled the gaps in my heart. The only time of year I even thought about it was the holidays. Don't get me wrong, it isn't that I am completely alone. All those wonderful, loving, generous friends opened their arms and homes to me every year, welcoming me in to their families as though I belonged there by blood. This year, though, I had declined each and every invitation. Sometimes it was just too painful a reminder of what I lacked. The only thing worse than being alone is being alone surrounded by someone else's loving family.

So that is how I found myself wandering without purpose down Ludlow in the unseasonably warm weather. My hands were shoved deep down into my jean pockets as I tried to make myself as thin as possible so as to avoid any unnecessary contact with passersby. While it was true that I had chosen to spend my holiday alone, it was much easier in theory than in practice to be alone on Christmas Eve. In fact, the thought of heading home to my tiny one bedroom filled me with such claustrophobic terror that I literally thought I might pass out from the sheer depression of it all.

I don't know what I was looking for. Company, perhaps. What better place to go than a bar, my inner monologue urged me on as I approached the neon sign I had never seen before. Merlotte's. Catchy.

The cold metal of the door startled me as I pushed against it. I was expecting warmth, what with the tropical temperatures and all, but the metal felt a bit like ice under my hands. As I stepped into the dark it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Standing stock still, I gathered my bearings and when I was accustomed to the sudden change in light I moved towards the large bar in the center of the room.

It was nondescript. Nothing special as far as bars in the city go. A little on the dingy side, but it was Christmas Eve and I was in a bar. Who was I to judge? There was a lone woman sat at the bar. Heavier, in her late fifties if I had to guess, she was the sort of woman I imagined would be draped in furs and long strands of pearls. Dickensian beggar meets Little Orphan Annie's Miss Hannigan. She wasn't, obviously, but that was exactly how I saw her in my mind.

I timidly made my way to the bar, leaving a seat between us as I sat down. She titled her head to the side and I could see she was watching me. I knew this because I was watching her. Deep down in the pit of my stomach I feared that this was who I was destined to be. Look at me, getting a head start on my future. I felt real empathy for this woman, this absolute stranger who I had only seen just a moment ago. How lonely she must be, I thought.

I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I didn't notice the bartender approach me.

"What can I get for you?" A deep rich voice questioned me. There before me stood a man who could be described as beautiful. So tall I had to strain my neck back to look him in the face. His strong jawline and light blue eyes were a perplexing combination of soft and hard. The light scruff along his jaw created the smallest hint of shadow and somehow in between dreaming about reaching out to touch him and imagining what our children would look like I had ordered a gin and tonic. This I knew because it sat in front of me and he was nowhere to be found.

I slowly sipped my drink and gave my life a good long examination. I had thought this would make me feel better about being alone and it was rapidly making me feel worse. I was kind of understanding why people offed themselves during the holidays.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Her voice was exactly how I imagined it. Smoking over the years had no doubt given her that rasp, but there was just something about her tone, wisdom from hard living that made it so much more authentic.

"Sookie," I told her and I was realized I was beginning to feel a little despondent to the whole scene.

"Suckie?" She repeated back to me, clearly incredulous that anyone would name their child such a thing.

I shook my head. "Sookie. Like cookie."

"Ah," realization dawned on her, only serving to further etch out the deep fissions across her face. Her wrinkles were so pronounced in the dim bar light that it seemed like a topography map gone horribly wrong. Again I was struck by the fear that this was the future I was looking towards. "Eric, this is Sookie."

It took me a moment before I realized she was calling across the bar to the bartender. He kindly looked up, smiled warmly at this woman he was clearly very familiar with and nodded before going back to whatever he was doing hunched over the end of the bar.

"That's Eric," she explained as if giving the official tour of the place. "He's owns this joint. And I'm Jane." I nodded in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything. I didn't have to either, she was just gearing up. "What's a nice girl like you doing here on Christmas Eve?"

This took me by surprise. I had thought at best we would engage in a little mindless drunken banter, but this lady didn't hold back. We were apparently getting very personal very quickly.

"I…don't really know to be honest." My last words just sort of hung in the air for me. While I was drowning in my thoughts Jane began talking endlessly. One sentence ran into the next until I knew her entire life history. I knew about the man who left her at the altar, the cat that was waiting at home for her, I knew she spent most days in this bar and Eric was really a very nice young man. In fact, Jane didn't limit herself to her own personal history. I knew, for instance, that Eric had bought this bar several years ago, long after Jane had already become a regular.

"He took us in like we were his own," she shared, the affection she had for him evident in her voice.

Sam, the previous owner, had been having some family troubles back in Texas, which as why he was sold the place. Tom came in only on Tuesdays and Maxine, who had sworn she was a friend of Bill now, had shown up two days in a row last week and needed Eric to scoop her off the floor.

"A friend of Bill?" My voice was slurring just a bit. I wasn't drunk, but I certainly couldn't feel any pain in that particular moment. Every time my glass was empty, Eric would silently come over and place a fresh glass before me. I was only on my third, but I hadn't eaten much before delving into my liquid dinner and the liquor was hitting me hard.

"AA," she confided as if everyone should know such a thing. And off again she went.

I could've played The Newlywed Game with Jane that was how close we became over the next hour.

"Jane." We both looked to Eric, still hunched over the far end of the bar. "Raisin capital of the world. Six letters."

"Fresno," I answered without missing a beat. They both stared at me for a moment with matching looks of surprise. Finally, after what felt like an eternity under their scrutiny, Eric hunched down once more obscuring himself from my view.

"Coloratura Mills." His disembodied voice rang out loud and clear. Jane looked at me expectantly.

"Erie," I quietly replied and Jane's face broke out into a huge smile. Jane answered a few clues in quick succession that I didn't know and then Eric answered a few out loud to himself. It was a strange impromptu game we were all playing.

This went on for some time, but as the sun set even in the secluded dark of the bar we knew it was getting late. With a sigh and a heave Jane dismounted her stool and began to give her farewells to Eric. She rounded the bar, her steps slow and deliberate. Not drunken staggering, but a certain inebriated weight to each step. They embraced. I could tell they were having a conversation that I was too far to hear, but from where I sat there seemed to be a connection beyond that of bartender and patron. More mother and son, tender and protective.

"Sookie," she called out as she neared me once again. I held my hand out to shake hers, but she only chuckled at my gesture and wrapped me in her embrace. I accepted her hug awkwardly, not moving as her arms held tightly around me. "I hope to see more of you. You have made this a truly magical night."

I thanked her and told her likewise, then I allowed myself to be hugged once more. This time instead of standing stiffly as she hugged me I hugged her back, letting myself truly feel the comforting touch of another human being for the first time in a while.

When she was gone it was as though the air had been sucked out of the room. I almost couldn't breathe because it sounded so loud coming from my own body that I couldn't help but be intensely aware of all the noise I made by simply existing. I sipped my drink for an endless minute before Eric folded his paper precisely, pulled out two shot glasses, filled them with liquor and slid one across the bar.

"Merry Christmas." He lifted his glass in a toast and waited until I had done the same. Then he nodded and quirked one eyebrow ever so slightly in a very appealing way before tossing back the drink with a swig. I followed suit. The taste was indescribable. Warm and smooth, it burned its way down my throat and warmed me from the inside out. It was like heaven in a little glass.

"What was that?" I asked when I could finally speak again, coughing all the way through my question. Eric was pouring his second.

"It's a secret. Want another?"

I laughed and shook my head. No, I wouldn't be having another. I needed desperately to keep some of my senses about me.

"You two are close?" I asked, a bit out of nowhere, gesturing back towards the door to indicate I was speaking about Jane.

He shrugged and moved around, cleaning glasses that didn't necessarily need much cleaning and lining the bottles up along the back of the bar. "She needs someone. I guess I do, too." I nodded in understanding. Of course I knew what it was like just to need someone. Someone to be there for all the little things, someone with who you can share the day to day shit that you just need to get off your chest. Sure, it was one thing to get together with family once a year on Christmas, but it was entirely different when you simply called someone up at the end of the day to share life's little struggles.

"Do you have any family?"

"Not close by. You?"

I shook my head. "A brother, down south. We don't talk." He nodded and continued to clean up around the bar.

"What do you do?"

"Work. What do you do?" He grinned at my answer, but turned away almost as if he didn't want me to see how amused he was by my answer.

"Can't believe its Christmas already." This was a typical remark; it was one of those standard space fillers that people only resorted to when they had nothing left to say to each other. It was like the weather. Or sports statistics. And since it was beautiful outside and I couldn't name a sports team off the top of my head I went with it.

"I used to love Christmas when I was a little girl. My parents always did so much to make it special and then later on in life it was always a really big deal too. Not only I grew up and moved away did I not like Christmas."

He looked very sad for me in that moment. The bar owner, alone on Christmas Eve with a single patron. I knew this was why he was so good to Jane, he obviously felt very strongly for other people's pain.

"So, tell me, Sookie. Why are you here?"

I hesitated. I almost told him exactly as I told Jane, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the realization that I wanted to open up to him, I wanted to share some of my story with this complete stranger. "I could not handle the thought of going home to my apartment alone. I was walking home from work and everyone around me was so happy and I just could not—I couldn't breathe. So I kept walking and I saw your sign and thought 'why not?" I traced the rim of the shot glass with my finger and avoided his steady gaze. "Why are you here?" I let my eyes wander to his hands and marveled at just how perfect they were. Strong, working hands. They were the hands of a man who had seen tough times.

"Because sometimes people need somewhere to go." I finally looked up. His face was inches from mine. He was extraordinary and the lust that swirled in his eyes terrified me. As if in slow motion his hands came up and began tickling the lightest lines across my cheeks. Timidly at first and then bolder as they trailed along my collarbone.

I was frozen in my seat, transfixed by the out of body experience of it all. This wasn't what I had come in here for, not really. No, not at all. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine anything like this happening because beautiful strange men didn't stroke my face out of nowhere. Shyly I began to mimic his actions. Touching so lightly at first I wasn't even certain he could feel my touch. As I grew brave, though, I pressed firmly against his skin and leaned closer to fully examine his features.

"Tell me something," he requested. His eyes slipped shut as I traced his eyebrows with trembling fingers.

"I can't think of anything," I whispered.

"Tell me something real," he groaned while I explored his adam's apple. "Tell me something that will let me know I am not imaging this." I was practically sitting atop the bar at this point, my legs straddling his waist, his hands firmly gripping my hips.

"Why wouldn't I be real?" His comment confused me. If anything I would have imagined he had had this moment before with many woman. Being a bartender, but also an incredibly good looking guy led me to believe he had plenty experience in the surreal sexual encounter department. I was delirious from his touch and smell, the entire night was turning in to a heady sort of haze that I couldn't reason my way out of.

"You walked into my bar. You sit here for hours talking to Jane like you have known her your entire life, you can solve crossword puzzles and take shots. There is no possible way you are real."

In a move that surprised even me I closed the short distance that still remained between us. His kisses were exactly how I imagined and I lost countless hours there on top of that bar just letting his mouth caress mine over and over. He gently laid me down, spread my hair out so I wasn't lying on it and pressed his body to mine.

Shit like this doesn't happen in real life. You don't walk into a bar and a few hours end up stretched out over the bar making out wildly like a teenager with a perfect stranger. And yet with every pass of his hand down my arm, every stroke of his hand up my thigh I could feel the reality of everything he was doing to me.

After what felt like days, or maybe even an eternity, the world slowly came back into focus. Eventually I returned to myself and realized where I was and what I was doing.

"I have to go," I proclaimed suddenly. I wriggled as gracefully as I could out of his arms and back to my side of the bar. I laughed, fidgeted and gathered up my belongings while he tried to convince me to stay.

"Where do you have to go?"

"Home. This has been one hell of a night." I slung my bag over my shoulder and made sure I looked alright enough to re-enter the world.

"Stay, you could stay. Or you could come home with me?"

I shook my head sadly. It wasn't that I didn't want to, far from it in fact. My entire body was protesting my intentions to leave, but I knew that if I didn't get out of there soon I was going to end up making a big mistake.

"Your number. Can I have your number?" He grinned smugly and held out a napkin. I knew my face had already betrayed me before I had said anything. I was pleased, obviously, because when you turn down an incredibly hot man for a night of unbridled passion the least he can do is ask for your number.

I quickly scribbled my number on the napkin and handed both the napkin and pen back to him. "It has been truly surreal," I said and turned to leave.

"Sookie." I looked back and saw he was grinning wildly. His hair was mussed, his lips swollen and it thrilled me a little to know that I had done it to him. I wanted to run back to him, to let myself forget everything long enough to enjoy what it was he was offering me, but something told me he would call and that we would have a second chance.

"Merry Christmas."

"You too, Eric, Merry Christmas." And with that I walked back out into the night. It was cooler now, not freezing but a decent chill that reminded me it was indeed Christmas day. I felt a little lighter as I headed home, a little more childish and hopeful than I had felt a few hours prior. It felt okay that I was going home alone because Eric might call me and even if he didn't I knew I had just made the best Christmas memory ever.