A/N: As always a big thank you to everyone who is checking out this story, your reviews, alerts, and favorites are keeping me writing. And you know I have to thank my beta Sheknitsnicely- this story is so wonderful because of her painstaking hard work editing, suggesting changes, and giving encouragement! You're the best and your mine! I could not be happier!

Okay so, from here it's going to be about friendship and a little more. It's time for Sookie and Eric to really reconnect. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing…

Sookie's POV

"Your Majesty, Ms. Stackhouse, please re-take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We'll be starting our initial descent into Shreveport momentarily," the captain says over the intercom as I reach over to re-fasten my lap buckle. Eric takes his empty bottle of blood and puts it in the trash and then holds out his hand for my book so he can stow it back in my bag in the holding compartment.

I have so many mixed feelings about returning to Bon Temps this time. The last six months in Stavanger have been...well, the happiest I've had in a long, long time. It's really a horrible thing to say considering the reason that we were there but, if only to myself, I will admit it.

Eric and I seemed to have come to some kind of understanding that night in the woods. For better or worse, we both realized that we needed each other. That, given everything that had happened to us both, we were better off trying to heal together rather than apart.

At first, Eric's sorrow and pain were so great that they were almost overwhelming, and so I mostly attempted to find things to do that would distract him. We watched inane movies, and I made him take me into the city proper to show me all the sites, which led to Eric telling me stories about his childhood. Stavanger is the city (though it wasn't much of a city during Eric's human life), that his father was King of, and his home there now, just a few miles outside of the city, is on the land that his people farmed. We took hikes into the woods each night and, even though Eric could see just fine in the dark, he often asked me to 'glow' (as he put it) just to see me do it. Given that I was trying to cheer him up, I was game for almost any request.

But the thing that made him most happy, it seemed, was training me. I don't even know how it happened, but one night, about a month after the funeral we were hiking in the woods and Eric asked me how I could have been so stupid as to glow in the dark and let off all of that tempting fae scent so near to a house full of Vampires. Years ago I would have been deeply offended by such bluntness, but now, even if I didn't want to, I had to admit that he was right. It was stupid, and I couldn't tell him why I'd done it.

When I just shrugged my shoulders, Eric asked me who had let me walk around with all these powers but not taught me the simplest things about self-preservation. When I told him that, besides a few cryptic conversations with Claude, I'd been mostly handling the onset of my powers by myself, Eric just nodded, as though I'd confirmed something for him. After that, he made it a point to start teaching me the basics. It, more than anything, served as the best distraction for him and, as I got the basics down, Eric started to have more fun with it, pulling out the swords and knives.

Of course, no amount of distraction could completely take his mind off of what had happened, and there were many nights, especially in the beginning, when I found him in his room, unable to even rise from bed. Those nights were the hardest. I could feel his grief through our bond and I knew that, no matter how much he was willing to let me try and cheer him, he wasn't going to be well again over night.

On those nights I wouldn't push him. I just sat at the foot of his bed and let him weep, sending him my comfort and strength and trying to take as much of his sorrow as possible. Sometimes, after he'd wept, he would talk about her, telling me little stories about their life together. It hurt to hear it, I couldn't deny that, but I never once stopped him from telling me and, over time, I began to share with him too. I told him some of the happy stories from my time with Sam, some of the funnier things that had happened to me when I was learning to deal with my new abilities, or something about a place that I'd visited that I liked.

After a while, things started to feel natural between us. It felt as though we were truly becoming friends, really finding a place with each other, and it made me feel so happy... so accepted. His friendship meant so much more to me than it ever had before and, during the nights when we were together, I let him feel that happiness but nothing more.

When Eric was dead for the day, matters were a bit different though. When there was no one there to know the extent of my feelings, I let them out. Many days, just after the first rays of dawn would light the sky and I could feel Eric slip into his daytime rest, I would lay in my own bed just down the hall, and cry over my own stupidity. I cried because I'd let this man go all those years ago, when I knew, had always known, how much he meant to me. I cried because he had fallen in love with another woman and because, unlike me, she wasn't ungrateful, willful, or spoiled, and she knew exactly what a treasure his love was. I cried because I realized even now, when we had put back together some sort of real relationship, that we weren't in the same place anymore and might never be again. I cried because he wanted and needed my friendship and I wanted and needed his love. I didn't know what to do from here, or even if there was anything I could do.

Now that we were back home, I thought, I would see. I would see how well I could do without him there every night. If just seeing him on the occasions when he wanted to see me and just sharing our bond were enough. Part of me hoped it would be. I wasn't ready to beg him to give me a second chance, only to be rejected. I couldn't tell if, at this point, he could even conceive of something like that, or if his heart was still locked away from me, still yearning for Layla.

"Sookie, are you ready?" He says now, rising from his seat and holding out his hand to help me up. I'd been so lost in my thoughts I'd actually missed the plane landing. I look up at him and smile wanly, giving him my hand and allowing him to pull me upright. When we step off the plane, Pam and Thalia are waiting on the tarmac. Pam had returned to Louisiana four weeks after the funeral. She had wanted to stay longer, but someone had to run Eric's states and he didn't trust anyone to do that better than her. Eric rushes down the stairs and stops just in front of them. Thalia bows to her King and then turns and gets into Pam's SUV, giving the King and his second a moment of privacy.

"Eric." Pam says. She doesn't bow like a good subject, or embrace him like a child, but I see the hardness behind her eyes disappear and a small smile touch her mouth. As for Eric, I see a light come on behind his eyes, one that shines only for his child.

"Pamela, is all well?" He asks. She nods her head, and holds out his car keys to him.

"Everything is running smoothly." Pam looks around him for a brief moment and her eyes settle on me. "Thalia and I would be happy to take Sookie back to Bon Temps so that you can get settled back in." I feel myself frowning at that. Pam might be tolerating my presence for Eric's sake, but I really don't want to be alone with her. Nothing much has changed between us since the night in New Orleans when she told me she wished I was dead. It's more like, during the four weeks we spent in Norway together, she just sort of overlooked her extreme dislike of me to make sure that Eric wasn't burdened by it.

"Thank you Pam, but I will take her. Head back to the club and take care of things for the rest of the night and I will see you this evening." Pam looks slightly upset about that for all of a second and then she nods and turns around, getting behind the wheel of her car and peeling away.

When the flight attendants are finished putting our luggage in Eric's trunk, he opens the passenger door for me. I climb in and he's behind the wheel almost instantaneously. The drive from the air strip to Bon Temps is mostly silent, but the silence isn't unpleasant. When we arrive, Eric is out of the car and around to open my door before I even have my seatbelt undone. When I step out of the car, Eric already has my suitcase in hand, helping me carry it up the porch stairs and to my front door.

When we reach the door, I turn around and take my suitcase. I look up at Eric to find him looking down at me, a soft expression on his face. Our bond, which has remained wide open between us since the night of the funeral, tells me now that Eric is feeling sadness. I try not to let myself hope that he's sad that it's time for us to part. Instead, I just let him feel my sadness as well.

We just stand there, staring at each other for a long endless moment, and then Eric leans down, his hand softly cupping my face, and his lips gently brushing my forehead. It takes every bit of willpower that I have not to drop my suitcase on the porch and fling myself into his arms. Instead, I just stand still and try to savor the fleeting moment when his lips touch my skin. All too soon they pull away, but his hand stays, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on my cheek.

"Thank you, Sookie." he says softly. I just smile up at him, my hand coming up and covering his. "I will see you soon," he says, his lips brushing my forehead once more before he turns, getting in his car, and driving away. Once I feel the distance between us becoming great enough for our emotions to be dimmed, I lean back against the door and just let the feelings rush over me. I let all my love for him out of the cage that it stays in every night.

After a few moments, I feel under control again and I turn and walk into the house. Six months ago, when I opened this door for the first time in almost sixty years, it felt like coming home: it felt like peace, and solace, and a place to heal. Now it just feels empty.

I go through the motions for the rest of the night. Showering to take off the grit of traveling, making a cup of tea to calm myself, and staring at the same page of a book I don't even remember the title of, pretending that I'm not thinking of other things. After about an hour I just let myself sink into the sheets and stare out the window. Six months ago this place was home, but now I know that home isn't a building. Home is in a house in the woods in Norway, or a residence in New Orleans- it could be under a bridge for all the structure is worth- no, home is absolutely anywhere that my bonded is, and all I want right now is to go to him... to go home.

I don't remember falling asleep, but when I open my eyes next it's very late in the day. Despite having moved back several time zones, it appears that keeping Vampire hours overrides even jet lag. I realize all of a sudden that I've been woken up by a knocking sound at the door. I get out of bed as fast as I can, throw on a robe, and run to the door, hollering for whoever is there to hang on. When I open the door I'm greeted by a delivery man, holding a box.

"Are you Ms. Susannah Stackhouse?" He asks. I nod my head. I thought it better when I came back here to pose as my own granddaughter, since no one but Sam and possibly Sam's new wife knew that I was definitively unable to have children, so I figured I could just tell people that "Sookie" had had my mom after she and Sam divorced, which would put an end to any questions about my physical appearance.

"Sure am, is this for me?" I ask. It's been a long time since anyone has sent me anything. The delivery man just nods and hands me an electronic key pad to sign my name on. When I'm finished, he takes the pad and hands me the box. "Thanks so much!" I say, closing the door.

I take the box to the kitchen and put it down gently. I can't wait to find out what's in it, but first I need to use the ladies' room. I hurry back to the bathroom, take care of my morning (or in this case, late afternoon) needs, brush my teeth, and pull my hair back into a messy ponytail. Then I run back out to the kitchen to open my package.

I can tell already, from the size and shape of the box, that it's flowers and, sure enough, when I open it there are a dozen long stemmed red roses inside. I take the card from where it's taped to the lid of the box and open it.

For my Sookie.

Eric

I can't help the silly smile that breaks across my face when I see it. My heart starts to absolutely soar in my chest. Eric sent me flowers, and not just any flowers; red roses! Could this mean that he's ready? Could it mean that he wants to try for something more again, that he's known all along how I still feel and he's just been waiting for the right time? So many questions are swirling through my head as I hold the card to my heart and feel little tears of joy running down my cheeks.

I rifle around in the cupboards for a minute until I find a pretty vase and then I fill it with water and bring it over to the table. Lifting the flowers out, I gently place them in the vase, arranging them nicely and, when I have them just so, I lean down and all but bury my face in the blooms, inhaling their wonderful scent and feeling so much hope that I know I don't deserve to feel, but can't stop myself from feeling nonetheless. I am his Sookie- I always was- even when I was too blind to understand that, and I want desperately to truly be his Sookie once more.

I lift my face from the flowers and make to pick up the vase to bring it into the bedroom. I want these flowers and this card right next to my pillow, but I suddenly feel a horrible burning sensation in my hands and face and inside my nose and throat. It starts as just an unpleasantness but, after a moment or two more, it's burning to the point of excruciating pain. I look down at my hands and find them covered in blisters that look as though I've put my whole palm down over an open flame. The pain becomes so overwhelming that I want to scream, but I can't as, the burning has gone down into my lungs and I can't make a single sound, even breathing is becoming difficult.

I stagger a few steps, but it's no use. The last coherent thought I have is that hitting my head on the floor will hurt a lot, and then everything goes black.