"So seriously Eric, doesn't this script just kinda scream Sixth Sense in an 'I see dead people' kind-of way? Because I gotta tell you, I'm not going to be able to hold myself in check if they start lowering the temp in here to get your breath all foggy and shit," Pam stated, with not one little bit of amusement from her director's-style folding chair.

"Please tell me that you have at least read the script and that you're joking," I asked, absently rubbing my temples to try to relieve some of the stress-induced headache I could feel coming on.

Pam just shrugged nonchalantly, saying, "I don't read 'em anymore; not since you've rejected the last gazillion I've recommended for you and only read the ones I've said were rubbish."

"A gazillion, huh?" I asked, my lips curling into a smile I saved only for my big sister. "I didn't realize that you had received a gazillion scripts for me. It must be so hard riding my coattails and getting your nails done. Maybe I should give you a vacation, would that help?"

I had meant the last bit as nothing more than a joke; Pam knew that I had the utmost respect for how she had worked relentlessly to further my career, even to the point of dropping all of her other clients and focusing solely on me. "A vacation would be nice, Hawaii perhaps, or even the Virgin Islands for a week or two. Don't worry about a thing little brother, I'll book it myself. And you won't even have to pull your credit card out of your pocket to pay for it," she said with a mischievous glint twinkling in her eyes. "I have the number memorized!"

"I see how you are then, just using me for my money," I retorted playfully, smacking her lightly with my rolled up copy of the pilot script we would be filming today. Indicating said script by tapping it lightly against her shoulder again, I asked, "This reminds me, who is Susannah Stackhouse? I've never heard of her before this morning and yet she's going to be my co-star if this pilot pans out. Seems kinda odd that Compton would pull in a nobody for one of his shows, especially when the screenplay is being written by none other than K. J. Writ, who is a legend in her own right. I mean, all of her shows are rain makers and didn't that goofy Swedish bastard star in most of those? Yeah, it was before he took on those HBO gigs and started filming box office thrillers, but he was big enough even back then. Even I've got some industry time and pull behind me now, but how did an unknown get something like this?"

"All I know is that she's from some backwater Louisiana town, teaches high school drama- or did until a couple weeks ago, and that he found her while he was watching some acting troupe pretend to put on a play in some rinky-dink community theater when he was on vacation. Other than that, I got nada, zip, nothing. I tried Googling her and nothing came up, can you believe that? I thought everyone came up on Google nowadays, what with all the 'Big Brother' shit the government has going on."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes at Pam. Once she got started talking about Big Brother, conspiracy theories, end of days predictions, and alien cover-ups it was hard to stop her. My sister was normally one of the smartest people I knew, but I'd be damned if she didn't buy into that shit hook, line and sinker. The woman still had bottled water in her basement/fallout shelter from the whole Y2K fiasco. There were days that I was amazed she didn't walk around with a tin foil helmet on. Seriously, Chicken Little had nothing on my sister and yet, this was the woman I entrusted my life and career to. Scary, but what does that say about me?

But there was something about what she told me about this Susannah person that instantly held my attention. "She's from Louisiana and she taught drama there? I wonder…" I said, trailing off.

My mind went directly to the sketch I still kept in my wallet, the drawing of my Miss Perfect. It was because of her that I had never been able to settle down with anyone. Sure, I'd had my share of women, but none of them measured up to the picture I had of her in my mind. Days and even weeks would go by without so much as a thought of her crossing my mind, but then, just when I least expected it, I would catch a glimpse of a blonde ponytail or catch a snippet of laughter that would send me reeling right back to that crowded subway platform and the bench we sat on. Back to where she stole my heart and rode away with it, leaving me lost and looking for something I had yet to find almost nine years later.

"Eric," Pam sighed warily, "really, what are the chances that it's her? Don't you think it's time to give it up, forget about her and move on with your life? You're never going to be happy until you do. Alcide and I have tried to set you up and each time you end up telling them about her. Tell me, how do you ever expect to find happiness if you refuse to give up this pipe dream of yours?"

"She's out there Pam; I know she is because I met her once. I have to believe that it was fate or destiny, or something mystical like that, because if I don't then there is no chance of ever finding her again. And I don't think I can be happy if I don't find her," I stated morosely.

"That's just sad Eric, just sad," she said, shaking her head at my words.

Just then the studio doors opened and people started milling around; looking at the set, moving things from spot to spot, and placing our marks on the floor. Over the din of the crowd I heard someone tell me that I needed to get to make-up so that they could get me ready for the cameras. I headed off to the make-up trailer, grumbling under my breath that I had to choose one of the only careers out there that forced men to wear make-up on a daily basis; it was no wonder more than half the men in Hollywood had flamboyant tendencies.

At least I didn't have to wear tights in this one, not that I would ever accept another role that required they be a part of my costume ever again. Can we say form fitting and nut splitting? I physically cringed just thinking about how long it had taken for my balls to forgive me after wearing man-tights for 5 weeks straight last year.

I sat down in the chair and closed my eyes, clearing my mind of everything except my role. I would be playing Alec Nordstrom, a shy and socially inept Medical Examiner and Clairvoyant extraordinaire whose best friend was a guy who'd been dead eight years named Corbin Stuckhauer. The new girl would be playing my counterpart and love interest, and coincidently enough, the newly-promoted-to-homicide-detective daughter of said dead best friend, Savanna Stuckhauer. I could only hope that this Susannah and I would have at least a little on-screen chemistry or this would be one hard season to shoot.

The make-up lady brought me back to the present with a light tap on my shoulder, telling me that she was done and calling an actor playing one of the extras to her now empty chair. Script in hand, I quickly made my way back to the studio more than ready to get today's filming underway. I looked around as I walked through the large rolling door just as the set guys started pulling it down. I spotted Compton immediately; he and Pam were talking to another blonde. It would seem that his assistant, Sophie-Anne, had let her hair grow out since the last time I had worked with him, not to mention gaining a few more curves in the right places. Figuring I still had a few minutes before 'places' was called I made my way over to greet my producer friend. Just as I was about to a stop behind Sophie- Anne, Pam made some crack about some Lifetime film I had done a few years back that had them all laughing.

I knew that laugh and it wasn't Sophie-Anne's. It was hers. Blonde hair… though not in a ponytail today, instead it fell down past her shoulders in a gentle cascade. My face must've have been a scary sight because Pam stopped talking and cautiously said my name, pulling me out of my head. I watched in slow motion as both Compton and his companion turned to face me and as her face came into view for the first time in almost a decade, my breath left me. Our eyes met and I tried to say something, anything that would make me sound smarter than the trout I felt like at the moment.

"It's you," I stated dumbly, my chest finally cooperating and allowing me to breathe once more. "You're really here, right? I'm not just imagining you here, am I?" I knew that I sounded like a window-licker at the moment, but I couldn't help it. This was my Miss Perfect in the flesh, standing in front of me and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't still dreaming in the make-up trailer. I vaguely registered Pam's astonished gasp as the realization of who this was set in.

"Hello Mr. Northman, it's great to finally meet you again. I've followed your career for years now, I even sent you a fan letter once," she said politely as she stuck her hand out for me to shake. I didn't think about it, I reached out and clasped her hand tightly between both of mine, relishing the feel of the electricity shooting through me as our skin made contact. I could tell that she could feel it too, judging by the way her breathing hitched and her eyes widened. She looked from our joined hands to my face, a beautiful pinkish blush coloring her high cheek bones and turning my world upside down.

"Eric Northman, I'd like to introduce Miss Susannah Stackhouse. She'll be playing Savanna and judging by how she blew through the audition, I happen to think that she'll be perfect for the part." Turning to Pam, he placed a guiding hand on her forearm and said, "Why don't we give them a few moments alone to get to know each other before we throw them together on set. I find it helps with the screen chemistry if my actors can get along beforehand."

As Pam and Compton started to walk away, Pam threw a concerned look back over her shoulder before she turned back to him and said, "Oh, I don't think you'll have any problem with chemistry between those two."

"So…" the multitude of questions I had for her hung heavy between us, and I needed to cut the tension quickly. I said the first thing that came to mind, instantly regretting that my brain-to-mouth filter was obviously on the fritz. "I looked for you for months, but you vanished. I didn't even know your name."

'Shut up, shut up, shut up,' I groaned, inwardly berating my stupidity.

"I had to leave New York that afternoon because my Gran died and I never made it back. I had no idea who you were until several years later when I was watching TV and saw you. I did try to write to you, I swear, but I never got a response. I figured that day didn't mean anything to you or you would've written back."

"I never got any letters from you. Most of the time any fan letters that didn't request an autograph were thrown away before I even got to see them. Whoever was in charge of opening them signed my photos too, so if you have one it's not really from me, just so you know." I tried, I honestly did, but I couldn't stop babbling. It was like the words were bubbling up out of my chest and spilling from my mouth with little to no help from my brain. I was fucked, with a capitol F, so yeah…

"Well, that explains a few things. I did get an autographed photo and my friend Amelia got one a couple of weeks later but the signatures didn't match up. We guessed it was something like that."

She never once looked away from my face while she was talking, almost as if she couldn't. I knew that I was afraid to look away myself, afraid that if I took my eyes off of her for even a single second that she would disappear again. Was it asking too much to hope that she felt the same way?

"Why did you leave so quickly that day? One minute you were sitting next to me and the next you were on the train pulling away from the station. We were talking about 50 Cent and then you were gone."

The startled look on her face worried me for a second until she said, "You remember that? Oh my, I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything about that day. It was the real start of my career and the day I lost someone before I even met them. It's not a day a guy forgets, trust me. I waited for the next train to Brooklyn and spent hours looking for you. I think I walked every street from Greenpoint to Flatbush. My roommate was a sketch artist for the 105th Precinct in Queens and he offered to make a sketch or two that I could take with me." I looked into her striking blue eyes, eyes that had haunted my dreams for years, before deciding to go on and hoped that she wouldn't consider me a crazed stalker after what I was about to tell her. "I know this is gonna make me sound like a loser, but I spent months traipsing around Brooklyn carrying that sketch around before I finally gave up."

"I was so mad at myself when I realized that I had no way to contact you. I was ready to go back to that station and sit for days until you showed up, just so that I could talk to you again. I don't think that you're a crazy stalker. If it hadn't been for Gran's heart attack, I could've been classified as one too."

"I'm sorry about your grandmother, I take it you were close?" I asked before I thought that a question like that might be considered intrusive, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that, I don't mean to pry."

"She raised my brother and I after my parents died. And you're not being intrusive, just curious. I feel like I know you Eric, and I want to know more," she hesitated for a minute and I could tell that she was weighing her next words carefully. "Maybe I just want to see if this attraction between us is worth pursuing or if it's something that was better left in that Brooklyn Subway station, but either way I want to know something."

"I couldn't agree more.

Just then a production assistant called places and we made our way to the sets. As I walked by Pam's chair she grabbed my arm and asked me if I was alright. I grinned at her, trying and obviously failing to keep my delight at running into my Miss Perfect again at bay. It only took a few seconds of her looking into my eyes for her to reassure herself that I was fine, but when she let me go I noticed that she too was smiling.

Finding my first mark, I drew in a deep breath and looked over at Susannah. "Well Susannah, are you ready to do this?" I asked, fully aware that my question could be taken more than one way.

"As ready as I'll ever be,' she smiled brightly back at me. "Oh, and my friends call me Sookie. And Eric, we're definitely friends," I heard her say, though I don't think that I was meant to hear what she whispered after that, but I did and it made my smile all that much brighter. She had whispered two words…

For now.

"Sookie it is then," I said happily. "Hey Sookie, I got a question for you."

"Yes Eric, what is it?"

"Did you ever get that elephant trained?"

Her stomach-clenching, ball-raising, erection-inducing laughter could be heard ringing throughout the studio. Everyone around us stopped what they were doing to look at her glorious face, uplifted as she threw her head back in surprise at my question. "No Eric, I never did. Maybe you can help with that too!"