A/N: Okay, we're getting a bit angsty in this chapter so I just wanted to preface it by saying two things. One, that all the angst will be resolved next chapter- Sookie and Eric have a lot to do and it won't get done unless they're a team. And two, that, again, we only see things in this story through Sookie's eyes. We're counting on her to interpret the motivations and mental states of all the other characters correctly for us. It doesn't mean that she always will though. Eric is going to be put through the absolute wringer this chapter and even though Sookie can sense his emotions, she doesn't have a direct window into his thoughts. So she can feel anger, for instance, but that doesn't mean she automatically knows who it's aimed at. Eric won't get the chance to speak for himself until the next chapter, so please bear that in mind when reading. Sookie can only give us best guesses at why Eric feels what he feels or acts the way he does until he tells her what's going on in his enigmatic Viking brain.
Other than that, I have to just thank my wonderful beta, Sheknitsnicely, who not only words smiths this puppy so y'all can read it, but helps me sift through the 10 million plot ideas in my brain and sort through the bad for the good! And thank you to everyone who's been reviewing, favorting and alerting! My gratefulness knows no bounds!
Disclaimer: I don't own them. During his arraignment, Mr. Ball (who retains all rights until he is proven guilty in a court of law) was told that if he was found guilty he could face up to 25 years in jail for his crime or be sentenced to one week in Fangtasia's torture dungeon with Pam. At which point Mr. Ball pleaded for a life sentence instead, begging and crying as he was led out of the court room.
Ever since I followed Claudine into my possible futures, I've been playing a little game with myself, cataloging all the very stupid things I've done in my short life and trying to pick out, which one of them I should crown 'Dumbest Decision Ever'. It' a long, long list to be honest.
In the last two weeks alone there's been: taking a Fairy's hand and trusting that she had my best interests at heart and wouldn't be kidnapping me back to her realm to push out chubby little part Fairy/ part Human babies against my will (that one turned out okay), trusting Debbie Pelt, former V addict and member of Russell Edgington's Were pack to take me to Moon Goddess to rescue Eric (that one turned okay for me, but not so much for her), disobeying Eric and letting Debbie Pelt, former V addict and member of Russell Edgington's Were pack into my house (that one turned out okay for her, but not so much for me) and getting in the middle of the fight that just happened (the outcome of my decision having yet to be determined).
I should have known. I should have thought first. Eric is not Bill. Eric would never tell me not to fight with him, not to fight beside him, if there wasn't a damn good reason. It's the same reason that he insisted that I stay behind when he went after Russell earlier tonight. It's not that he thought I couldn't help - clearly I could have been a great help - it's that in helping I've exposed more of my powers to Ilina, who is supposed to believe that, while I'm a bit Fairy, I'm not Fairy enough to either be beneficial to Vampires or lethal to them. It's just that watching everything that happened, I lost control. The mere thought that Eric might have died just consumed me and I acted without stopping to consider why he would try to order me to stay out of the fight.
Now she's seen me teleport and toast a three thousand year old Vampire into a gooey little marshmallow all in less than ten minutes, and as she stands over us, a triumphant little smirk painting her face, I know that no matter what, we're all going to pay for my actions.
"This changes things, Eric." She says, her voice level with just a hint of menace. My Vampire, who's still crouched over me, turns to face her, baring his fangs and hissing as he takes up a defensive stance in front of me. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Pam and Bill trying to edge closer to us, but being prevented by Ilina's men. Oddly, Alcide doesn't even seem to be paying attention, choosing instead to continue to stare at Debbie's half headless corpse as though it might get up and start walking around again.
"You will not touch her. I will not allow you to take her!" Eric says through gritted teeth. Ilina looks down on him, without even bothering to acknowledge the threat he poses to her. Instead she simply quirks an eyebrow and laughs softly in our faces.
"You really love her." It's a statement, not a question, and so she continues on, not waiting for or expecting an answer. "I never would have thought it, but after tonight it seems undeniable. Since that is the case, I think I may have an offer for you." Eric stands from his crouch, but stays firmly between Ilina and me and doesn't bother to retract his fangs.
"What do you want?" He spits, a twinge of desperation leaking into his voice even as I feel him utterly swimming in a sea of turmoil through our bond. I want to send him my love, my reassurance, more than anything, but I'm afraid to. The feeling of guilt swimming inside of me right now is almost overwhelming and I'm terrified that, if I send Eric my love, he'll only push back with his anger and disappointment at me.
"The Vampires you see before you, all of them, are no longer loyal to the Authority. We continue to work for them, pretend to give them our fealty and our service so that we can continue to have access to them, but not one of us has escaped suffering under their tyranny, from the brutality of their laws and the cruelty of the Magisters they send to execute them. We have decided that we are done being oppressed. We are gathering our forces and we will overthrow them soon.
I came here because I wanted to find you, because you are a warrior anyone would want fighting on their side and because you have respect and position in our world that will lend validity to this revolution. But I didn't think that your penchant for self-preservation above all else would allow you to take up our cause. I almost passed on this assignment until I saw that there was a warrant, not just for your true death, but for the capture of your bonded.
Eric Northman, bonded to a Human. At first I chalked it up to her Fairy blood. You'll forgive me if, after our brief association, I found it hard to believe that you could ever care for anyone. But the thought wouldn't leave me alone. What if she did mean something to you? What if you did love her? What would you be willing to do to keep her? It's why I allowed you to go after Russell, to see if my skepticism was correct or if you really had fallen. And now I know.
So, as I see it, you have two options. Fight me and my men and, if I kill you, I'll take her back to the Authority and she'll spend the rest of her little Fairy life locked in a cage being poked and prodded and bitten until they can find some way to make her useful to them. Or, if you win and kill me you can spend the rest of her life fighting every assassin and kidnapper they send after her until you finally, inevitably, lose and someone else takes her away. Or you can fight with us, end their oppression and win your freedom and hers. What will it be?"
There's a moment of complete silence as everyone stares at Eric, myself included. The only thought running through my head is a steady chant, asking myself what I've done. Our choices are no choices at all. Either we fight her now and hope we win, only to fight others night after night until someone finally gets the better of us, or Eric commits treason and there will be no getting out of his death sentence or the horrible way they'll kill him. It might have all been a lie, Ilina's promise to let us live if we killed Russell, but at this moment I can't help feeling like, if only I'd stayed out of it, Ilina wouldn't have this leverage over us. Whether she was honest or not, I played right into her hand.
Eric's emotions are in utter upheaval. There is no way in which this situation turns out well for him and yet I also know, as he turns away from Ilina to look at me long and hard, that he's already made his decision, that there wasn't ever one to begin with really. Just as he's about to voice it though, the silence is shattered by Bill, whose crazed sounding words carry over the empty field with frightening intensity.
"Eric, don't," Bill shouts. "It's a trap! She's just trying to get you to commit treason! To get us all to agree to treason…." Whatever else Bill might have said is cut short and, despite the very unhappy way things have worked out between us, I can't help the scream of terrified shock that escapes my mouth as one of Ilina's men comes up behind him, stake in hand, and drives it through Bill's back and into his heart in one swift, savage movement.
I watch in utter disbelief as Bill's blood shoots out like a geyser from his chest and then he falls to bits on the ground, his remains, ironically, not that far from Russell's. As the truth of what just happened sinks in for all of us, every set of eyes turns from Bill's assassin to Ilina. Who just shrugs her shoulders.
"Compton was never part of the equation. He was young and weak and a miserable excuse for a King. I never intended to offer him the chance to fight with us, but you still have it, Eric. What's your decision?" Her words are coldly said, without a spark of feeling for what she no doubt ordered done even before they sat in a car together coming here, before fighting side by side against Russell.
I had worried last night that, despite my faith in Eric's love, Ilina would try to take him away from me, that she might try to tempt him from my side; if not because of her long ago infatuation then out of spite, to ruin what we have that she never did with him. But now I realize that I was making Ilina's motivations too simple. She does not feel…anything. She doesn't love, she doesn't hate, she would not waste time on an emotion as worthless as spite or as pointless as regret. She simply does what needs doing to accomplish her goals and lets grief and remorse be felt by those she leaves in her wake. She's here for a fighter and she's assessed the situation, discovered his weakness and is now exploiting it for her own gain.
"We'll fight with you." Eric says. His voice is completely flat but inside I can feel guilt, anger and defeat eating at him.
"Good. Now I need one more thing from you." Ilina says, satisfaction painting her tone. Eric raises one eyebrow in question as Ilina produces a pair of pliers from her jacket pocket, even as the man who staked Bill begins to search through his remains for something. "I will return to the Authority with some of my men. I will need to bring 'proof' of your demise." Just as Ilina waves the pliers in front of Eric, I see with a sickening dread that Bill's murderer is fishing his fangs out of the goopy remains. The realization of what Ilina is asking for seems to hit Pam and me at once and I hear Pam let out a gut wrenching sob as she watches Eric.
The love of my life looks down at the plumbing tool in front of him and then at the Vampires that surround us. Seeing all eyes on him, he takes the pliers from Ilina's hand and, for a split second, I see surprise pass in front of her eyes. I don't know what she expected, but it's not what happens next.
Without a word or a sound, Eric clamps his own left fang and, with a sickening force, wrenches it from his mouth. I know that our bond is muted right now, because even the slight echo of the pain he feels is like molten lava running through my body and I see Pam pitch forward a little, her hand going to her mouth as she begins to shed silent tears, the blood dripping unstopped down her face.
For all the pain he must feel, Eric gives no visible sign that it was any worse than flossing his teeth, and I see the looks of the Vampires that came with Ilina change all of the sudden from amusement at his predicament or shock that he would attempt to do this himself, to utter and complete admiration and respect, and I know that most of them know they would not be able to do the same.
Eric opens the pliers over Ilina's hand and lets his fang drop into her hand and then, without pausing, he does the same to his other, ripping it out and bending over only long enough to spit out the blood that literally gushes from his mouth, before putting the other in her hand as well. Ilina nods at him, her face going soft for a single second before she closes herself off again and looks briskly at her men. Ten of them come forward to join her, the other eight remaining where they stand.
"I must return now and report to the members of the Authority that you and Compton have been neutralized. I will not mention Russell or anything that happened here and I will tell them that, when you discovered I was after you, you murdered your Bonded rather than give up possession of her. I will leave you with my second, Sigmund." Ilina gestures to a tall, blond Vampire that looks almost like the poor man's version of Eric, "He will take you to your home. Pack what you need, stay inside and do not show yourself and he will take you to a secure location the night after tomorrow." Ilina says nothing else, nor gives any of us the opportunity to answer her before she and the Vampires she's taking with her get into their SUVs and drive away.
"Come." The Vampire named Sigmund orders us through a heavy German accent. "The night is half over already and we have a long drive." Eric nods his head, turning and picking me up so that I don't have to walk on my injured ankle. We pile into one big SUV, Sigmund driving and the other Vampires Ilina left following in an identical one behind us, as we begin to make the trip back.
After making sure that I'm settled in the back seat, Eric sits shotgun and Pam takes the seat next to me. The ride is utterly silent, only the sounds of my breathing and of tiny sniffles escaping Pam every now and then punctuating the deafening quiet.
I'm so tired and so spent from all the terror and fright of this night that I wish, more than anything, that I could just let the darkness and the motion of the car lull me to sleep, but it won't come. All I can concentrate on, all I can think of, is the stone-like figure of the man I love, less than a foot in front of me, staring straight ahead at the empty road, his emotions, seeming numbed into non-existence, and refusing to look at me though he must know that my eyes are drilling holes in the back of his head, though he must feel my desperation for one gentle smile of reassurance.
Despite my chaotic emotions and my desperate desire to get to the safety and familiarity of home, Sigmund's Vampire reflexes and BMW's state of the art engineering get us back to our neck of the woods in what feels like record time, just over an hour, but to my astonishment we don't keep driving the highway on to Bon Temps, instead taking the exit for Shreveport.
Once we're off the highway, Eric begins to direct Sigmund in low tones, as though not wanting to speak to loudly, though I don't understand why. It takes another twenty minutes, but then we're pulling up to what I assume is Eric's house. The truth is that despite owning it (or I guess soon to be owning it), I've never been here before. It brings home with startling acuity how short a time Eric and I have actually been together, only two and a half weeks: and in that time, knowing how much I love my home and, I think, loving it too, Eric has pretty much moved in with me.
I hate that my first night in Eric's house is under guard and surrounded by so much tragedy and uncertainty and pain. It should have happened one night after I surprised him at the bar. It should have happened because I had made him so happy, had given him such a wonderful shock, that he just couldn't wait the hour it would take us to drive back to the farmhouse. We should have been coming here alone to make love on every surface and share stories about Eric's past as he showed me, the two of us still naked, all the beautiful, wonderful things he'd collected over a millennium on this earth.
Instead of being carried in the arms of my eager lover to commit sin after delicious sin, I'm lifted by my silent, weary, angry and conflicted Viking and carried wordlessly into the house with Sigmund and Pam following. Eric and Sigmund decide that he and two of his men will stay here in the house, since Eric can accommodate several Vampires at this home, and the rest will return to Bon Temps to use the late King's estate. They will return the night after tomorrow, just after sunset, to retrieve us and take us wherever it is that we're going.
Eric and Sigmund say a few more things to each other that I can barely hear, despite still being in Eric's arms, and then Eric takes me upstairs to a large bedroom.
Laying me down gently, Eric flicks on the beside lamp and sits next to me. I try to say something to him, I want to say anything to him to make him talk to me, look at me, tell me what he's thinking and explain to me what he's feeling, but I don't know what I could possibly say right now. Instead, I just watch as Eric produces a dagger from inside his jeans pocket and quickly and efficiently slices his wrist open. Holding the bleeding appendage out to me, he gestures towards my mouth.
"You need to heal. I don't want you to be in pain." He says quietly, those few words sounding more defeated and miserable than any I have ever heard from him. I look at him, long and hard, trying to send my love to him, but I get nothing in return, only another jerk of his wrist, indicating without more words that I should drink before the wound closes.
Wrapping Eric's arm in my hands, I put his wrist to my mouth and drink him in, letting his life force slide down my throat and enter my body, desperate to have his blood make us both more one with each swallow than I ever have been before, even as I feel the pain from my ankle begin to recede.
When the wound closes I let Eric's wrist drop and look down to see that, other than the streaks of crusted, dried blood that are stuck to my skin, my ankle is completely healed, the bite and the lacerations around it gone.
Though I couldn't have been looking at my healed wound for more than a moment, I'm taken completely by surprise when I feel the bed shift and realize that, far from joining me, Eric has gotten up and moved to the doorway.
"You should get some rest. It's been a long night." Eric says, his voice a little louder now and, for the first time I realize, marked by a pronounced lisp. It wrenches my heart to realize that the change in the sound of his voice is from the newness of his speaking around the empty holes where his fangs should be and again the guilt comes rushing down on me, the feeling that I am responsible for this, in any small way.
It's so overwhelming that I almost don't understand until Eric is nearly out of the door that his words and his actions mean he's leaving me here, alone in this room: that he intends to sleep elsewhere, without me. Suddenly the panic wells up in me and the pain in my heart overcomes every other thought and I call out his name. The hurt in my voice must register with him as much as the hurt that travels across our bond, but he only looks at me forlornly and repeats his last statement.
"Rest." He says, and then looks at me with eyes so filled with dark unhappiness that I can barely stand to hold his gaze. "I…we'll talk tomorrow." With that, Eric closes the door firmly, leaving me alone in his home, exhausted, still injured mentally if not physically and nearly crushed by the weight of my panic about what is going to happen to us, my guilt at getting us into this mess, and my stinging pain at his rejection, until it all combines into one and births a new terrifying fear. A fear that I had never thought I would ever have to entertain: that I never even considered a possibility.
Throwing my head back on the pillow and letting my tears fall, heedless of how they wet and stain the expensive cotton beneath my head, I begin to agonize over the possibility that I could lose Eric, that what happened tonight has made an irrevocable taint that can never be forgotten or forgiven.
The man I love risked his life tonight to save me from a three thousand year old monster because I thought I knew better than him who to let into my house, and then was forced into agreeing to commit treason and possibly get himself killed overthrowing the Vampire government that rules his world and, to add injury and humiliation to the insult, was forced to rip out his own fangs to begin weaving the web of lies that will probably get us all killed. And for what?
Pam may not have meant them, but her words ring startlingly clear in my head right now: for a hick waitress from bum fuck's asshole Louisiana with a stupid name and an apparently common sense numbing vagina.
Those words cause the damn to break and I don't even care that I'm sharing a house with five Vampires who can probably hear my heart beating from where they are in the house. I just cry and cry, letting my nose run and my eyes squeeze shut so tightly that my head pounds, and I let myself sink into the pain and the fear. I let the truth wash over me that, even if we live through this, Eric may never be able to forgive me, may turn away from me, may realize that I'm not worth all of this as I call his name over and over but never let sound come out of my mouth, too proud, even in my utter misery, to let him hear me beg for him.
It goes on like that for a while, until my tears are cried out, and my heart is numb and then, stubborn to the last, I just start to get mad. Yes, I made a mistake, several mistakes! But I never thought any of this would happen. How could I? We're supposed to be partners, this relationship is supposed to be for life. How dare he leave me to suffer like this! How dare he go off to suffer by himself! Suddenly I'm filled with rage, but it only lives long enough for me to yank Eric's very expensive lamp from the wall socket and hurl it across the room. The sound of the glass shattering and the metal creaking seems to satisfy my rage and then I'm just consumed with emptiness once more.
Sinking into the sheets, trying to ignore the icky, wet feel of the pillow beneath my head, I start to drift off into a hazy, dreamless half sleep. I float like that, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, for what seems like a long time, when I'm suddenly roused by the feeling of strong arms lifting me up.
My brain, exhausted from the rollercoaster of this horrible, horrible night only dimly registers the familiar feel of the cool arms supporting me and the cool chest I'm pressed against, and the inviting, delicious scent of the man they belong to, that I would know even in the darkest, most all-encompassing dream. Looking up I dimly see Eric, naked, showered and clean, carrying me down a small pair of stairs and through a door to another room.
Laying me down on my side in the even larger bed, he leaves for a moment and I hear the sound of beeping and something locking solidly and then he returns, climbing in behind me, pulling the covers over both of us and wrapping his arms around me, pulling me back into the spoon of his body. My own reacts instantly to all of this, relaxing truly for the first time all night and conforming to his, all by itself. The feel of being safely and securely pressed against him, in his bed, is like being rescued after thinking you'd been left to drown in a storm, and I feel real sleep pulling at me for the first time. It overwhelms me, but not before I find the energy and the courage to say one word.
"Why?" I whisper into the darkened room. Eric's first response is to tighten his arms around me and bury his nose into the curtain of my hair, but just as I'm falling off I hear him answer me.
"I cannot find my rest without you." He tells me, in an anguished tone.
