A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews. They keep me motivated. I hope some things are beginning to come clear for all of you, but I'm holding out on divulging my intentions. I've gotta keep some stuff secret. ;) Music used herein: I Don't Love You by My Chemical Romance, Fourth Time Around by Bob Dylan, and the album Ágætis Byrjun by Sigur Ros.
******
I catch up with her a few minutes later, leaving the remnants of my bottled blood cooling on the table. "Can we go there now?" I ask over the noise of the crowd. I know it's nearing closing time, according to the information on the flyer she gave to me. But I'm not ready to go home, and I'm not willing to stay here.
"Sure. Follow me."
Moments later we are standing outside Apothecary in a drizzle of rain. There is a soft glow emanating from the front windows and leaded glass door. I can smell the different humans that have passed through that door earlier this evening. I could smell other things as well. Were, shifter, vampire, fairy (though faint, it was still there). I smelled the earthiness of minerals and herbs. Clair placed one hand on the door handle and one up in front of me as if her hand could stop me from moving forward into the shop.
"One thing first," she said. "I've introduced myself. Now what's your name?"
"Northman," I say, letting a slight bit of my Norse accent slip into my voice. "Eric Northman."
"Is that like 'Bond. James Bond'?" she giggles, then quickly straightens up and composes herself as my smile melts away. She clears her throat, "Sorry," and smiles. Then she opens the door. "After you, Mr. Northman."
***
I heard a crash and the door slam, but remained huddled in the corner of my room, looking out at the street, dark and lonesome at 3 AM. I sat there for a long time, looking at nothing, caring about nothing. Empty. I knew I had hit a brick wall. It's bad when you can't even cry anymore.
I thought of Daddy, and a mother I had never met. I wondered if I had died instead of her, would he still be alive? Would she? I had let go of my dad years before he died. But I sometimes had dreams that he was still here, and everything was all so wrong. Nothing made sense in those dreams. Someone would ask me why I was acting like he was dead, when he was obviously still here. I could see him, speak to him, but I knew he shouldn't be here. It was wrong, and nobody would believe me. In those dreams I felt so lost and alone and wronged. So frustrated. I would wake up crying. But those weren't the worst dreams.
In other dreams I was happy. I was living in a home with a husband and a little girl. Sometimes the husband was Eric, or Joss, or someone who looked a lot like my grandpa. Our little girl was beautiful. She was about two years old. She had beautiful golden-brown hair that went every which way it pleased. Her smile absolutely lit up the room and her eyes were the clearest ice blue I had seen next to Eric's. Then another man would show up. He was dead, but he would stand in front of my baby girl and claim that he was her father. He said she belonged with him and I never deserved to be this happy. Then it would all melt away. The house, the husband, my little girl would all vanish into thin air and I was alone in the dark. I would wake up crying.
Another version is just me and my girl. We are happy once again, but my subconscious knows by now it's not real and I'm expecting the bottom to fall out, because it always does. We are swinging on a rope swing, or dancing in the park, or singing in the car. Then clear as a bell, I hear her beautiful voice proclaim, "I have to go now. You can't have me. And you never will". And I wake up sobbing.
The one I've been having almost every time I close my eyes recently is very different.
There is a dark room and I am suspended in this cavernous space in a cage, hanging by a chain from a ceiling I cannot see. Below me is a body of water so vast I can't even guess where it begins or ends. I'm suddenly being lowered into the water. Just before I run out of air, the cage I'm in surfaces again and I'm gasping for breath. This is repeated over and over for what seems like an eternity. Every time I come up I protest that I can't breathe under water and this is going to kill me. I hear voices when I say this. "What do you mean? It's easy." "Why won't you just calm down? You're over reacting!" After a while they start ignoring me, and I'm drowning in silence. I wake up gasping for air.
This is only what I can remember.
I have a void in me when I'm awake that physically aches. I know it's not just about the baby. It hurts to breath sometimes, for no reason at all. I try to focus on work, but there's only so much I can do.
And now Eric. Why does he have to care? I have good days and bad days like anyone else. But he's asking all these questions. 'Why don't I eat?' 'Why don't I sleep?' 'Why am I so reckless about drinking his blood?' And tonight I really fucked up and let it slip that I had been thinking about not being here. Not really thinking about killing myself, just not existing anymore. He wasn't going to let that one go easily. I couldn't tell him what was really going on. It was too human to get him involved in. But his persistence just keeps making it harder for me to shut off. It makes me think about things I'd really rather forget ever effected my life.
I heard a police siren down the street and it pulled me out of my private reverie. I realized I was getting cold, sitting there in the light blanket. I glanced at the clock. Almost 4 o'clock. Eric would be home by 5, unless he planned on spending the day somewhere else. I hoped not. I know he said we couldn't really be anything to each other, but that was bullshit and he knows it.
I stood and put on a long, warm cotton nightgown, and headed downstairs to asses the damage.
***
"Royalty, AB negative. On the house," she smiled as she slid the glass of warm blood across the counter to me.
"And why is that?"
"'Cause you have issues. I'm not asking what they are or suggesting that you spill your guts. Just saying, I think you could appreciate a drink 'on the house', is all."
"That is an expensive glass of blood to be giving away," I protest, and hand her my credit card. By now the shop was deserted and locked for the morning. Most of the lights had been shut off and there was only a soft glow coming from the pendant lights above the bar and the reading area.
She took my card and gave me a smile in return. "If you insist," she swiped it and handed it back to me. "I've just got to reshelf some things and then wipe down the bar. I'll be hovering around here and there if you need anything." I raised my glass to her as she wandered to the back of the shop.
I surveyed the space around me. I saw aisles of herbs and roots and barks in jars, lining one wall. Across from it was a combined section on western medicine, eastern medicine, and other alternative healing methods. The back wall consisted of were fiction, vamp fiction, fey lore and history, wicca reference, supernatural studies, and supe history/politics/reference. There was a small group of shelves near the front that housed mainstream scifi, fantasy, and fiction. I heard Clair rummaging through a stack of books in vamp fiction.
"Hey," she called to the bar. "I'm gonna turn the stereo back on. Any music preferences?"
"I have eclectic tastes," I call back to her. Moments later I hear music floating up from the back of the shop.
Well when you go
Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay
And maybe when you get back
I'll be off to find another way
When after all this time that you still owe
You're still, the good-for-nothing I don't know
So take your gloves and get out
Better get out
While you can
When you go
Would you even turn to say
"I don't love you
Like I did
Yesterday"
***
I was driving down I-20, on my way from Ruston back to Fangtasia. The windows were down, and the volume was up. I Don't Love You was playing so loudly I nearly missed the call. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I was loath to answer it. It was Bill.
Bill had left my area months ago. He was resident in Texas now, and, frankly I was glad to be rid of him.
I flipped my phone open and held it to my ear. I didn't bother to turn the music down.
"That noise is hideous," Bill said by way of greeting.
"Compton," I acknowledged him. "Why are you calling me?" I heard him clear his throat, before he answered in a hushed voice.
"Because she asked me to."
I began seeing red. I let my foot off the gas and maneuvered the corvette to the shoulder to park for a moment. She had contacted Bill. That was no surprise. He was like her dog. He kept going back for more. I had given up on her nearly a year ago. I hadn't felt her through the bond, which led me to believe that it would dissipate with time and distance. The more desperately I searched for her, the weaker I appeared to my peers. It was self-preservation that had caused me to give up in the end.
I was angry with her. I deserved answers. But I was also curious. I was not used to being in the dark where Sookie was concerned, after being so closely bonded to her. I needed to see her, but I would not let Bill know how badly. I composed myself before speaking.
"Why?"
"Don't feel so special, Eric. She had me call Sam as well as Jason," he sounded upset that he was not so special either. "They are driving to Houston tomorrow morning. They should arrive sometime shortly after noon."
"Answer me, Compton. Why?" It was difficult to keep the anticipation out of my voice, but I hoped he took it for anger.
"She is not well. She wants to see you for herself, before I say anything further. She," I cut him off.
"Let me speak to her." I heard a door shut on the other end of the line.
"Not now, Eric. Let me tell you what I can," he waited for a response and had to be satisfied with my silence. "She contacted me two days ago. I hadn't heard from her since before she left Bon Temps, as you well know. She asked me to come see her in Houston. I live in Beaumont now, so it's not far of a drive, a little over an hour. She is renting a room near the Memorial area." There was a long silence, then he began again. "You will find her much changed, Eric."
"If she is ill, feed her. You have my permission."
"She is not bound to you any longer, Eric. You have no say in the matter. Though I would gladly oblige if I could." His voice sounded strained. "How soon can you be here?"
"Soon," I said, and hung up the phone.
I stepped out of the car, locked it and began dialing Pam. She picked up on the first ring.
"Master?"
"I'm headed to Houston, Pam. I need you to come get my car and leave it at the club. It's on the side of I-20 about 25 minutes outside of Shreveport. I'll call you if I require anything else." My voice was devoid of all conversational tone, and my child did well to recognize that.
"Yes, Master. I'll await your call."
I hung up the phone and began my assent above the tree line. I would call Bill on the way for the address. Of course she would call him first. Damn him.
***
"Your blood is cold."
I blinked and turned my head to see Clair, wiping down the counter around my now cooled glass of blood. The music had changed to Fourth Time Around. "All of a sudden, I'm not hungry."
She looked at me as if she understood. Somehow, I believe she did. I walked around behind the counter, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you for the company," I said as I headed to the door.
"Same," she called back with a smile. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure of it."
I walked the two blocks to the lot where I had parked my car. I slid into my seat and retrieved my phone from my pocket. It wasn't likely that I'd missed a call, but I wanted to make sure. No new messages or calls. I turned the key in the ignition and listened to the engine kick on. Sigur Rós was playing softly over the speakers as I drove home through the damp streets.
When I walked through the door to the loft, I saw that the metal and brick fragments had been swept into a pile, the water mopped up. The music was still playing, though the volume had been turned down. The blanket lay folded across the back of the couch. And Devon was nowhere in sight.
I made my way up the steps and glanced into her bedroom. The bed was still tidy and the light was off, but I could smell her now. I turned and took a step into my room. She lay in the middle of my bed, curled around a pillow. She was wearing a dark grey nightgown and she almost blended in with my bedding. She was asleep. I took of my shirt and dropped it on the floor, then reached to the wall and switched off the light. I walked around the bed and sat down behind Devon. She stirred but did not completely awake. I leaned back on the bed, reached around her and gently pulled her to my side.
"We have to talk about this. I won't keep this up, do you understand me?" She turned her head to face me, her eyes still closed.
"So talk."
"What do you want from me?" I asked bluntly.
"I don't know, Eric. I probably want something you can't give me. You don't want any obligations, yet you feel obligated. And I don't want to complicate your life, but I want to be something more to you than what I am." She was suddenly silent.
"At least you're being honest." I huffed. "I can't give you what you want. It's good that you know that. But I do care for your wellbeing and you are concerning me. I can't read you like you read me."
"You do a pretty good job of it," she interrupted me, muttering under her breath.
"So," I ignored that statement. "When I'm trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with you, either tell me, or don't, but don't start a fight." She let out a breath and I could feel her nod her head. "We can be with each other for now. Until it stops making sense."
"You really do have a cold heart," she whispered softly into my chest. She snuggled closer towards me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
"I never claimed anything else," I whispered back.
She fell asleep in my arms. As I lay there next to her, I watched the room begin to lighten as the sun began approaching the sky. I was keeping time with her breathing and thinking about my affinity for abnormally difficult women. I suddenly felt her go rigid against me. A second latter, she was sitting straight up, sobbing and gasping for breath.
"Shh, Dev." I wrapped my arms around her and tried my best to sooth her. I didn't get much of a chance to ask about her dream, let alone calm her. The sun was in the sky and sleep was pulling me under. I choked out one last question, "Will you be alright?" I registered a nod from her, and then I was asleep with the dead.
***
The rest of our time in Houston passed relatively calmly. I spent each night in Eric's bed. Sometimes we had sex and more often than not, he would feed from me. Other nights consisted of reviewing figures, going over applications for new bar employees, conference calls between Eric, Pam and Felicia, all lasting till dawn. I began to realize with a certainty that Eric was either all the way on or all the way off when it comes to sex. In that way he did not mix business and pleasure. Though he took both tasks to heart.
I learned how to keep quiet when waking from my nightmares. If I allowed myself the blind panic I had become accustomed to, Eric would always ask, and I wasn't going to discuss it with him. He still knew when it happened, but I suppose my reactions were convincingly less alarming, so he didn't mention it anymore.
The re-opening of Dirt Bar went very smoothly. Eric had hired a bar manager named Blu, who used to tend bar and had certain managerial responsibilities at Poison Girl. There was also a girl that had agreed to come in a few mornings a week to take inventory and restock our blood supply. She could get a hold of some really rare blood, as it happened. She managed a shop down Montrose called Apothecary. She was pleasant enough to work with, and very professional. It was nice to have someone to talk to during the day, and sometimes I'd spend a few hours at her shop while I was waiting on Eric to rise for the night.
There was a party at Dirt on Halloween night. We made a brief appearance, shook a few hands, and I made my excuses for Eric so we could leave. When we got in the car, he rested his hand on my thigh, bare halfway up due to the truly mini dress I was wearing.
"We need to go home. Now," he said gruffly. I had also learned that a favorite method of letting off stress for Eric was physical activity. He said he rarely ever got to fight anymore. Sex was the next best thing.
"I'm really exhausted. Can't we just get to Shreveport first?" Our bags were already in the car and Eric was planning on driving straight through. "If we go home we won't be able to leave till tomorrow night, then you'll have to put off going to Fangtasia another night." I could sense "work Eric" kicking back into full gear.
"You make too much sense for your own good," he glared at me. He grabbed a cardigan out of the back seat, which I was sure I had packed in my suitcase, and handed it to me. "Put this on. We will be driving almost five hours northeast of here. It will be a bit cool for short sleeves."
I wrapped myself up in the sweater, leaned back in the seat and felt Eric rest his hand on my leg once more, settling in for the long drive. I placed my hand on top of his and tried to keep myself from falling into too deep a sleep.