A/N: Bear with me on this one - it's not action-packed, but it is important for the rest of the plot! Merry Christmas to all of you!

Mistress of the mixed message, that was me, I thought ruefully as I lay chastely in Eric's arms. I felt so safe, though, with him wrapped around me, that I couldn't chide myself too much. He'd also made it quite clear that he liked snuggling, and I wasn't complaining about that. I was rapidly getting addicted to snuggling with him.

I managed to rouse myself just enough to say goodbye when he got up to go home, a couple of hours before dawn, then fell back into a deep, restful slumber.

Life went on as normal after that, and I wondered if it had all been a storm in a teacup. I didn't see much of Bill, which I was grateful for, and Rene hadn't been around quite so much, either. Perhaps he realised he was being watched. I got the occasional text message and phone-call from Eric, especially after a rough night at work, and I'd come to think of it as being protective and concerned, more than high-handed and annoying. I figured perhaps it was somewhere between the two.

Whatever Eric's reasons and motivations, his texts and calls always brought a smile to my face, and I looked forward to them. I looked forward even more to the few times he came round - often when he knew Gran was out, and I'd be on my own. I found myself enjoying his company more and more; though our relationship hadn't moved on in physical terms (though, Lord knows, he kept trying to tempt me), we'd started to develop something of a friendship, something I really appreciated. I appreciated the kissing and occasional fondling as well, I admit, though wasn't quite ready to take that final step yet; I'd worried he might try to push too far, too fast, but he was careful to back off when I asked, and I'd started to trust him, becoming more comfortable with him, and with myself. He didn't seem at all concerned at how slowly I wanted to take things.

It wasn't that long after Uncle Bartlett's death that we heard from his lawyers about his will. It made me feel pretty sick that he'd left me a legacy – twenty thousand dollars was a tidy sum. But I didn't want to take anything of his, after what he'd put me through. With my mind in a whirl, and being upset and confused, it was no surprise that Eric picked up on it, and called me.

"Sookie, what is wrong? Your emotions are all over the place this evening."

"Uncle Bartlett left me some money in his will," I explained to Eric. "A lot of money. I don't want any of it."

"What will you do, then?"

"I was going to refuse it, but…"

"But?"

I hesitated; this was going to be hard for me. "I was thinking… about what you said about getting therapy. For what he did. I guess maybe it would help. And it seems fitting to use some of that money for it – he owes me that, after all." I took a deep breath. "I wondered…" I trailed off, not knowing if I could ask this.

"You wondered?" he prompted me.

"I wondered if you knew of anyone in Shreveport," I asked hesitantly. "I don't want anyone in Bon Temps to know. People talk."

"I have a contact," he said. "I started looking into it after we last discussed this, in case you decided to take that option. I'll text you the number."

I gave a sigh of relief. It was hard for me to ask for help – I hated doing it, being indebted to someone, but I was glad that I'd bitten back my pride and done it, and that he hadn't made a big deal of it. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"What about the rest of it?"

"I'm going to give it to a mental health charity," I said. "I'll ask for it to be earmarked for children who've been molested."

"That also seems fitting."

"Mm."

"Have you heard from Compton or Lenier recently?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No, not a peep from either of them." I gave a rueful smile, though of course, he couldn't see it. "Last time I saw Bill was just after Jason had told me about Uncle Bartlett's death. I was pretty rude to him."

Eric chuckled. "The scathing wrath of an indignant woman is not one of the things that will kill us, alas. I'm sure he'll have survived that, more's the pity."

"Probably," I agreed. "Sam's been giving me a lot of lunchtime shifts. Dawn's apparently asked for more evening shifts, because they pay better, and under the circumstances," Bill being annoying and pestering me, that meant, "I didn't mind taking double shifts during the day for a couple of weeks."

"Dawn?"

"The one I first came to Fangtasia with," I said.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I remember. I asked her about you, after your first visit."

"She never said," I said, surprised.

"No. You will not like this, but I glamoured her into forgetting our conversation. I wanted to cover my tracks."

"From me?"

"At first, partly, but more because I realised that if it was known I was showing an interest in you, it would draw attention to you. So it was also to cover my tracks from others who might target you."

I sighed. "I'm not hugely keen on the whole glamouring thing, Eric."

"I know. I'm sorry if this has upset you, but it was done for the best."

"If you want to know something about me in future, Eric, can you just ask me yourself?" I asked.

"Now we are on such good terms," he said lightly, "I will do as you ask."

"And please, no more glamouring my friends and colleagues?"

There was a sound of dissent. "If it is in your best interests, I will still do it. Your safety is more important than your dislike of glamouring."

"You can be so high-handed sometimes," I grumbled. "You know how much I hate the idea of glamouring, of taking control away from people."

"And you know that I am not willing to risk your safety," he replied calmly. "So we are at something of an impasse."

I sighed. "Can you promise me you'll only do it as a last resort?" I asked.

He was silent for a long time, then finally he answered. "Very well, I will accept this compromise."

"Thank you," I said with relief.

"I only wish to keep you safe, Sookie," he said gently.

I closed my eyes, and blew out a frustrated breath. "I know."