No one spoke to him as he entered the office, no one dared. It might have been that they all know what had happened, it might have been the look on his face. Perhaps they all figured that he had finally fallen victim to the PTSD that had been threatening? Whatever the cause, N didn't care. It was better when people kept out of his way. He went to her desk, no one had cleaned it out, those orders hadn't been given yet, it seemed they were waiting, just like he was waiting. But he had made a promise he intended to keep. The packet was in the top drawer, it had been a lucky guess to open that one first, but there it was, right on top, a pretty pink envelope with flowers embossed along the edges, just where they needed to be for a Grandmother, and for her to have chosen. He took it, without reading the address or opening it up; not in the company of everyone else who was 'not looking' at him with pity. He walked out, without a word to anyone. Only when he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, in the underground garage, did he flip it over to see her Grandmother's name, and address. Then, for some odd reason, some desire he didn't quite understand just then, he opened the unsealed envelope to see the pictures she had put inside it.
There were pictures of the local landmarks, all the tourist places, pictures you would always send home to your Gran when you were visiting some exotic new locale. Big Ben, the statue of Lord Nelson (with the ever present pigeons), the Portobello Market, the British Museum, all absolutely benign, until he flipped the next to find Tower Hill Station, not a normal tourist spot, well, not a typical tourist spot. He looked more closely at the photo, a memory washing over him. And there he was, just in the foreground, the focus not quite on his face, though he knew himself instantly, just not how she had managed the photo. He'd taken her there, they had walked the Ripper's streets, it was something with all his new partners, to talk about how policing had evolved from that terrible, initial failure, to gauge how they would react to the truth of the mutilations and the horror. He scanned the next photo, and found himself again, in Hyde Park, when they had walked and talked about the roles they would be playing, practicing the history they needed to perfect, and then there was a third, in his car, after he had dropped her at her flat. She had been watching him, and he suddenly felt cold. He nearly tore the card as he opened it, the scrap of paper sliding from it to his lap.
"Happy Birthday Gran,
I know it's the first one where I haven't been able to get home to see you, but this new job is very demanding, in a good way of course, I don't want you to worry. There's so much to do and I can't run off just now, I've just gotten a big file to work on, and I really want to impress my new boss. He's very important in my field, and he knows everything Gran, and I just, well, I just want him to be proud of me, and what I can do. I'll make it up to you, I promise.
Here's some pictures of some of the amazing places I get to go for my work. All the places you and Grandfather used to talk about seeing. This has been such an incredible opportunity for me, making this move, taking this chance, getting to live this dream. I'd never have been able to see all of this if it hadn't been for your support. One day soon you'll come down, I'll send money for the train, and we'll get to see all these things together.
I miss you terribly, and send my love.
Sookie."
He folded the paper back together carefully, and tucked it, and the photos, all but the last one, back into the card and that packet back into its envelope. Throwing his head back against his seat he gritted his teeth together and forced himself not to cry.
Her name was Sookie.
OOOOO
"Mrs. Stackhouse?"
It hadn't taken N long to make the decision to deliver the letter in person. The drive, at a higher rate of speed that would normally be tolerated did him some good. Having to focus on the road, lest he stray from it and kill someone, or himself, helped him settle his thoughts. The Red Bull helped as well, since sleep had been evading him, the image of her perfect face and crumpled body haunting him whenever he shut his eyes.
The house was newly painted, surrounded by a white fence overgrown with flowering honeysuckle, looking just as he had expected it would be; the fragrance of the flowers enveloping him as he stepped from the car. He had paused to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, finding pictures of her as a young girl invading his thoughts, playing in the yard, her blond hair floating around her face. The images nearly brought a tear to his eye. He had forced himself to focus on the house, inwardly cursing the way he was suddenly starting to fall apart. It was an old English cottage if ever there had been one. He had half expected to look up to see a thatched roof, but that had been replaced at some point with the more traditional slate tiles. It took nothing away from the overall picture.
The cobbled steps led up to a front door, where N had knocked soundly, wondering if anyone was home, and what pursuit he might be disturbing. There had been the sound of rubber-soled shoes on a worn hardwood floor, then the squeak of the door as it opened inward.
Sookie's grandmother was an impish looking thing, a big smile, and twinkling eyes, even though she was at least two feet shorter than he. Her carriage spoke of an inbred confidence, and nobility that suited her bearing even though her circumstances were humble. She had a pride in her house; that much was obvious by how she tended her garden; well manicured, beds, with clematis, and roses, and ivy climbing the walls of the house.
"Yes, I'm Adele Stackhouse, and good afternoon to you young man." She said with a smile. The nomenclature made N smile as well; it had been a very long time since someone had called him young.
"Good afternoon. I have a letter for you." N held out the pink envelope.
"Well thank you. But you don't look like my regular postman."
"I'm not, I'm a friend of your granddaughter."
"Sookie?" Her already happy face brightened even further and she turned the card over to see Sookie's script on the envelope. "Then you must be that gentleman she always talks about, her new boss, the one who she's so taken by." Apparently the woman saw no reason to hide much of anything. N could appreciate that forthrightness. "But she never did tell me your name?"
"Eric." N held out his hand, "Eric Northman." He saw absolutely no reason not to tell this woman the truth.
"Well it's a true pleasure to meet you Eric Northman." Adele's handshake was as firm as his own. "But why hasn't Sookie come with you?"
"She's working right now I'm afraid, but when I mentioned I needed to be up this way she asked if I wouldn't mind dropping this off for you, so you would know she hadn't forgotten."
"Oh, my Sookie never forgets." Adele looked wistful just then. Eric began to feel badly that he hadn't thought to stop in and pick up a large bouquet of flowers to go along with the card.
"But where are my manners, would you like to come in Mr. Northman?"
"Oh, I really can't, not this time, I'm afraid."
"Well then perhaps you'll be able to do a favor for me?"
"If I can."
"Sookie had wanted me to send down a box of some of her things, but it's just gotten so heavy."
And likely quite expensive to post, Eric thought to himself.
"Just some of her favorite books from when she was growing up, and some photos of her and her brother."
"She has a brother?"
"Oh yes, he moved down to work the shipyards near Glasgow a few years back. This little village is no place for young people anymore. It's not so exciting around here as they need I guess? It would seem Sookie has made the choice to set herself up in London as well, what with wanting all her special things now."
"Oh, it seems a fine place to me. Sometimes a bit of quiet is something we could all use."
"You sound like a man who has seen a great deal of hardship Mr. Northman. But I suppose I shouldn't be asking such things. Not as if you need someone else watching over you."
"Mrs. Stackhouse, I would have been honored to have someone like yourself to watch over me."
"Well, perhaps Sookie will do it for me then?" She turned away, "Let me fetch that box for you then, and I won't hold you up any further."
She disappeared for a moment, returning with a file sized box that was obviously too heavy for her, and Eric took it up quickly to relieve her of the burden.
"Perhaps the next time you come back this way you'll bring Sookie." She winked, "Or she'll bring you. She can show you around this little village, and where all the fairy paths are around the back of the house. She was always such an imaginative child, making up stories about the fairy folk and their adventures."
"I look forward to it Mrs. Stackhouse, and it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He offered his free hand to her and shook hers again.
As Eric returned to his car, loading the box into the front passenger seat, he heard Adele close up the door behind herself. It was only when he took his own place behind the wheel that he felt the weight of his hypocrisy. He had actually allowed himself to dream about returning to that place with Sookie, when the fact was that she would likely never be coming back there, and that the woman he had just lied to might never see that beautiful face again. For the very first time, the duality in his nature felt like an oppressive curse instead of a challenge. He drove a little ways out of town and pulled over before daring to look at the box, not knowing just what he was going to do with it, feeling a bit like a thief, and more like a lost soul. He cursed very loudly, threw the car back into gear and drove very quickly back home.
