You'll have to forgive Eric here, he's been a little spoiled by the fame. He'll get over it soon, I'm sure.
Eric regards Sookie blankly.
"I'm here to pick you up," she says.
"You're not my father's driver," Eric observes.
"No, I'm his nurse."
"The nurse is picking me up?"
"In this case, the nurse is also the driver," Sookie explains. Her tone suggests she's concerned Eric might be a bit... slow. She's definitely not as nervous as she was. "It seemed silly to have a driver when I could take us."
"Oh," Eric says dumbly, stepping out the door. He hadn't realized the nurse would be coming with them.
"Where's all your stuff?" Sookie asks, looking at his empty hands.
"Inside," he says, stepping aside to let her by.
She stays where she is, staring at him expectantly. "You going to go get it, or what?"
Pam snorts.
"Well, uh, I'll just go get my bags," he says, turning back into the house.
Pam follows behind him, laughing once they can no longer be seen from the door.
"What?" he hisses.
"You were actually considering telling the nurse to go get your bags, weren't you?" She giggles. "This is priceless, I need my camera. The great Eric Northman, carrying his own bags."
"Shut up, Pam," he says, as he hefts a strap over his shoulder. Whenever the studio sends a driver, they carry his stuff. When he goes to a hotel, they carry his stuff. At the airport, someone carries his stuff. He pays them, of course. It's not his fault he's not used to carrying his own stuff. He can do it; he just didn't know he needed to. "Just be thankful I'm not making you do this."
"Hey, I'm your manager, not your personal assistant," she says, un-intimidated.
Eric ignores her and walks out of the house. He follows Sookie to the back of the truck where he dumps his stuff on the ground. He heads around the side of the van bringing only a backpack with him.
Sookie stares after him before sighing and loading his bags into the back. She glances over at Pam who grins widely and waves. This is going to be fun, she thinks.
~0~
Eric stands by the large door of the minivan, waiting to be let in.
"You're riding shotgun," Sookie tells him, after she has the van all loaded.
"I am?" Eric frowns.
She frowns back. When he doesn't move she goes over to the passenger side door and opens it. "Yeah, your father is sort of stretched out over the backseat... he's more comfortable like that."
"Oh," he says and climbs into the seat. He waits for her to shut the door, but she doesn't. She's looking at him like he's nuts. He pulls the door closed.
She walks around to the driver's side and climbs in. While she's putting on her seatbelt Eric glances into the back. His father is lying there, sleeping. He looks pale and weak.
"Let's get this show on the road," Sookie says cheerfully and smiles over at Eric. The smile changes her whole face, like turning on a light, a very bright light that Eric doesn't feel ready to see this early in the day.
"Great," Eric mutters under his breath. Looks like Sookie is one of those perky types.
Sookie turns out of Eric's driveway before asking, "Did you want to stop somewhere and grab a coffee? I would have picked one up on the way over, but I didn't know what you'd want..."
"I'm fine thanks," he cuts in, stopping her mid-ramble.
"Good."
They drive in awkward silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.
"I was wondering if you might be willing to split the driving? I figured we could switch every few hours?"
Eric doesn't look at her, focusing on something out of the window. "Sure," he answers vaguely. "Wake me up when it's my turn." He curls into his seat and closes his eyes. He misses seeing Sookie's eye roll.
"Okay then," she whispers to herself. Colour me unimpressed, Mr. Northman, she thinks.
~0~
Eric wakes while they are stopped at a gas station. Neither Sookie nor his father is in the vehicle. He gets out and stretches his long legs, glancing around. He sees Sookie and his father exiting the store. His father is in a wheelchair. Eric freezes in place. Sookie, who has been chattering away to Jack looks up and sees him.
"It's alive!" she proclaims, winking at Jack.
"Yeah," Eric says, running his hand through his hair. He usually has to keep it in a buzz cut for the show, but he's been letting it grow while he was in rehab. He had it long before that. He decides he likes this length best, in between.
Sookie pushes his father to a stop right in front of him. He looks down at his dad, who looks back at him almost defiantly.
"Eric," Jack mumbles softly.
"Father."
They stare at each other for a moment, saying nothing.
His dad struggles to speak, like his mouth isn't working properly. "You look good," he says. It comes out in daunting wheezy breaths.
Eric is shocked. "You look..."
"Yeah, yeah," Jack mutters dismissively.
"I'm glad you're awake," Sookie says, cutting through the tension. "I could use a hand getting this back into the car." She gestures at his father, or the wheelchair, maybe both. He's not sure. He doesn't like the idea of this woman referring to his father as a thing.
He watches while she goes through a series of coordinated steps to lift his father out of the wheelchair and situate him in the back seat. He waits for her to direct him, but she doesn't. Once Jack's all buckled in she folds the chair and asks Eric to help load it into the back of the van, which he does. It's heavier than he expected.
"Thanks" she says as they finish. "I can do it on my own, but it's so much easier with two people."
Eric doesn't reply, just holds his hand out for the keys. He figures it's his turn to drive. He gets in and adjusts the seat and mirrors while Sookie fiddles with his father in the back, getting him adjusted. When she finishes she moves up to the front.
"Just follow the GPS, it's all programmed in there," she says.
Eric starts driving.
"So, is it better or worse than you expected?" Sookie asks.
Eric doesn't know how to respond. He knew, intellectually, that his father had a stroke. He'd been told about language and memory problems and paralysis, but that was when his father hadn't even woken up yet. He knew they'd hired a nurse to help Anne out at home, but he hadn't really considered the extent of assistance his father would need. Someone that came over and did physio a few times per week? It hadn't occurred to him that a functional stroke patient was someone who needed every one of their personal needs met by another person. He knows that's stupid. Quadriplegics are considered functional and they can't dress themselves. Shit. Why didn't he ask more questions? When Anne and Pam told him that the doctor's had said his father would be able to go on this trip, he'd assumed that meant he was back to normal. Obviously not. Yes, yes, it makes an ass out of you and me. He really was a dumb ass sometimes. Fuck.
"He's really come a long way in a short time," Sookie tells him. "It's pretty incredible. Though I think it's mostly because he's so gosh darned stubborn."
"He was fully paralyzed on his left side. He's got some use of his hand now, so that's great. He'd lost most of his language kills, but he's getting those back. You'll probably still find him difficult to understand. After a while you'll get used to it and it will be easier for you. You're probably going to notice he's a lot slower to process things than he used to be. Some people find it frustrating at first, go easy on him. If you're frustrated, imagine how he must feel. It's taken a lot of rehab to get him to where he is now, and it's going to take months more... but you should be proud of what he's done so far."
Eric glances at his father in the rear-view mirror. He's dozing. He looks like a shell of the person he once was, and this nurse is saying he's doing exceptionally well? Holy fuck, Eric thinks.
~0~
They pull into a motel around six o'clock that evening. Sookie informs him the reservations have already been made for two rooms. She spares him the agony of dealing with the desk by taking care of getting the keys for him. He helps by getting the wheelchair out and loading his father into it.
The rooms are connected by a door in the middle. Eric isn't entirely sure who is going in which room, so he waits until Sookie places her suitcase on the bed next to the bed they've put his father in.
"I figured you'd prefer not to be disturbed in the middle of the night," she says, handing him a key. "He needs to be turned every few hours, or taken to the washroom."
"There's a diner across the way," she says. "I was going to go get some takeout, shall I bring you back something too?"
"Nah," he says. "I'm not hungry right now."
He walks between the two rooms, shutting the door between them, but leaving it unlocked. He puts his suitcase down by the bed. He glances out the window. There's the diner Sookie mentioned, and next to that, there's a bar.
Eric lies down on the bed and flips on the TV, hopeful that there's something decent on.
~0~
Two hours later, Eric sits at the bar, staring at the glass of whiskey in front of him.
"You going to drink that?" someone asks, slipping onto the stool next to him.
"Maybe," he says, turning in his seat. His smile drops into a frown as he realizes the buxom woman who has joined him is Sookie.
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea," she says, looking pointedly at his beverage.
"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?"
"It is my business," she replies calmly.
He scoffs. "I fail to see how that could be true."
"Your father is my business."
"So?"
"Stress has an adverse affect on your father. It's my job to make sure that your father experiences as little stress as possible," she explains. "Anything that might cause your father stress is my business. You falling off the wagon on your second day out of rehab might be stressful for your father; therefore, your drinking is absolutely my business."
Eric makes a noise that can only be described as "Pfft."
Sookie's pretty sure he'd stick out his tongue at her if it wouldn't make him look like a total idiot in front the other patrons. She giggles. She can't help herself. Eric glares at her.
"You actually look kind of cute when you're acting like an immature brat," she says. "In a sort of pathetic way, of course."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a bitch?" Eric asks.
She pretends to think it over. "Yep. I've also been called a nag, a cow and a cunt. Sorry, Northman, but bitch just ain't gonna cut it."
He scowls. He can't even insult this crazy lady. He throws a ten down on the bar and storms back to his room.
Sookie grabs the glass of whiskey and empties it in one gulp. When she realizes the bartender has been watching their exchange, she shrugs.
"I didn't want him to drink it," she says. "Doesn't mean I wanted it to go to waste!"
The bartender shakes his head, completely confused. She leans across the bar. "If that guy I was with comes back in here," she says. "Don't serve him."
She tosses a twenty down on the counter and leaves.
A/N: These two are off two a wonderful start, aren't they?