Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize from True Blood or its source material.
I lift my hand in a wave to Bill as he reverses and pulls out. I cast my mental net over the house but hear only silence. Reassured, I head into the house, wearily lifting one foot after another as I climb the stairs. Gran is over at Mam Perkins, an old lady that took a fall over her laundry basket when she was hanging up her sheets, and needs someone to sit up with her nights while her hip heals. All of the Bon Temps ladies of a certain age had banded together in a cohesive unit of sympathy and pie baking. She would be over there right now, in a huddle of ladies playing cards while they gossiped. Not having her in the house, gave the house a melancholy air as I make my way upstairs.
Still I thought, it meant she was safely tucked away from whatever fate awaited her in our house. I let my mind wander through the dark rooms of the house again, checking them off one by one. There was nothing lurking in here.
I flick my shoes off with a thud, letting them land somewhere under my bed. Why did I bother to wear them anyway? I hardly ever wear heels. The blue of a turquoise bracelet dumped on my dresser catches my eye as I walk back out to the bathroom. The colour association flicks an image of something else blue into my mind.
Stepping into the shower, I let the water flow over me as I close my eyes. There were still so many questions. I wanted to gather them all together, but holding onto them was like trying to catch all the oranges from a split bag before they hit the ground when you were hauling the groceries in. Sighing, as I reach for the shower lotion, I realise Bill never did tell me about what Eric had said to him about Lillith the night after he left my house.
As my hands start to absentmindedly rub, I notice the image of a fairy fluttering on the bottle's label. I frown as the question of where a fairy could fit into all of this comes back. Bill seems so adamant they're not worth considering, but second Pam was pretty fucking convinced. I let the water slick off the lotion, and wonder about why I am so stuck on fairies. It's just – everything I've heard lately has been pointing away from them – even though they were important enough to be mentioned to begin with, in a kind of throw-away way, and in the kinds of books I read, that usually means something. I give myself an internal slap. Life ain't a mystery novel, Sookie.
Pulling a towel off the rack, I flick it over my body and wander over to stand in front of the mirror. My eyes catch the iridescent blue gleam of the soap holder. A stray finger flickers out to touch its hard edge. I consider what I've heard tonight, away from the obfuscating presence of vampires. Bill seems to want to help me, I muse. At least he is doing something. Wanting to include me, although his desire to include me only goes so far. He seems to clam up pretty quick when I ask for any actual information. He seems to just want me along – sidekick style – on his little jaunt to Sophie Anne. I tense up, thinking of his words about how he and Eric are vampire, my mouth framing the word and imitating the cadence he gives the word, and thus don't need to sully themselves with petty human methods of communication. All that talk of manipulation – of needing to guard myself they were doing, and yet neither one had really told me anything. Little fragments here and there.
Okay, I tell myself, stop sulking and work out what you do know. There is fairy involvement, but Bill is less than fussed over that idea. He shuts down every attempt to talk about it despite it being the only other half way decent clue. Thinking about the times he has denied the connection, brings to mind the conversation in the office – take two – and Eric asking "Why take the girl?" I savagely kick back against his phrasing but start to wonder for myself. Why was Bill so hell bent on protecting me? He hardly knew me – sure I'd intervened with the Rattrays the first night I'd met him and I'd expect him to step in if I was getting killed. Return the favour-like. He already had, although a vampire getting involved in human affairs was apparently vastly different to one interceding between me and another vampire.
It still didn't explain his posturing and puffing up around me, trying to keep me away from Eric, at all costs. Maybe he was jealous…and wanted to keep me away from the other vampire? I'd been around enough people to know that what people think they're owed in relationships doesn't match up with what's been said. Not that, I told myself, Bill and I even had a relationship, apart from cosmically compelled road trip buddies at this point. With a sigh, my mind turns to the next possibility: Could it be a vamp thing? Some type of possessive oversight he feels? I don't know enough about vampire customs or culture though to make a call on that one. Eric is right. I don't know much about vampires or why they behave the way they do. I need an – ally – to interpret this for me, to help negotiate my dealings with vampires so I can make my own decisions. The only problem is I'm not surrounded by a lot of non-partisan people with vamp know-how to call on right now.
I could try…myself. It's so tempting in the same way you want to pull at a scab to peek underneath when you're little. You want to know what's there so badly, even though you really, really shouldn't. Eric was clear about what could happen if there was too much mixing with our future selves. They might get stuck here – marooned. I lean against the counter, towel wrapped around me, while my fingers drum against the surface. Would it really be that bad, asking one little question? She had approached me mentally to say Eric would be coming over, I think wistfully, hardly the most vital use of Sookie to Sookie, potentially destiny changing, telepathy. My mouth puckers.
No, I decide, not yet. I can't be the one to maybe fuck this up. Not for something like this. Think Sookie, I tell myself. How could you get the information? Eric and Pam don't seem all that well-deposed towards Bill and they're my only sources of information about vampires apart from him. Still – maybe if I could just hint around it, not ask directly about Bill – but just generally about what vampires usually acted like with humans. What might make them step outside the usual bounds, kind of thing…Of course, I probably needed to be on friendlier terms with Eric first, especially after tonight's little denouement, for him not to cotton onto what I was doing. It would have to be just thrown in after a while, casually, not to soon after I made nice. For that to be possible though…I need to make nice.
I square up to the mirror. Okay girl, I tell myself. Next time you do this, it will be for real.
"I'd like to apologise," I say quickly, eyes down. "I'm not sure why I've been so –cranky – with you. I mean, I do think that you could really take a few lessons from our Lord in humility." My eyes flick to his, and what I see sends my eyes shooting downwards again. Make nice, Sookie, I remind myself.
"Half the time…I don't know why I'm mad, except that a lot has happened, and it doesn't feel like I know half of what I did before a couple of days ago! And before I know it I've opened my mouth and, well, I never used to have this problem – " I trail off, hoping he would copy my sheepish smile.
He gives me a long, cool stare instead.
The humiliation crashes over me and I realise this was a really bad idea.
"Well," I say to myself in the mirror, vanishing the fantasy of building a connection with Eric to help me out of this goddamn mess; "That would be about as well as it could go, Sookie. Honestly, what are you expecting? For him to go antiquing with you?"
Exasperated, I splash water on my face, to try and clear my head.
There has been a nagging sense in my ribs, twitching and probing, since I got out of Bill's car. Eric's face keeps appearing in my mind, with his words worming through my earlier moment of peace. It – it feels like I am connected to something that I can't grab a hold of which keeps eluding me. Some understanding that niggles at me, just out of reach.
The sight of a blue towel on the rack behind me catches my eye and the realisation engulfs me. I have feelings for him. Not the gooey lightning storm I'd picked up on while he was here earlier in the house, coming from some fragment of the future, but definitely something. Could it be the blood? I ask myself, hoping to box it up and put it away for now. The answer slinks back, destroying my tremulous hope "nope". Well, I think scolding myself, "you would say that anyway, wouldn't you?" Can't even trust myself these days.
A bubble of laughter forces its way out of my lips and I let my head sag forward to touch the mirror with my forehead.
I am so very fucked.
I make my way back into the bedroom, a towel slung around me with my wet hair on my shoulders. When I stop dead: Staring in horror at the person gloating at me through my upstairs window. Eric fucking Northman: Who is suspended in the air outside, peering in like a predatory Peeping Tom.
"Eric?" I screech in surprise, my feet unsure of whether to hotfoot it over to the windows to swing the blinds closed, or take off down the hall.
"Miss Stackhouse", he says with a devilish grin. "I accept your apology."
Oh sweet mother of god! He heard me!
"You heard me?" I ask.
"Every. Word." He confirms with his grin still in place. "Are you going to invite me in? We have much to discuss."
I take a deep breath, and shake my head. "No, you can just hang there for a while" I say, moving to snatch a pair of pyjamas out of the dresser. Apparently, mortifying situations bring out the need to pun in me.
"Very droll" he comments as I dart outside into the hall to change.
When I return, I'm feeling more composed.
I give him a brisk nod, lean against the wall and cross my arms. The urge to uncross them is almost instantaneous but I resist it, not wanting to look unsure. "Eric, you may come in," I say, and watch him slide effortlessly into the room, his long body surprisingly graceful; each movement is studied and sure.
Another thought occurs – if he can feel what I'm feeling, and he was here while I was doing the mirror thing… "Eric, how much of what I'm feeling can you pick up on?"
He plops himself down on the bed and stretches out. I can feel my mouth open at the almighty cheek of that man. "Enough to know you're currently very focused on me," he says, and my heart gives an unhappy flip-flop, "but no more than that."
I feel myself start breathing again.
"Giving you my blood was more of a precaution" he says, regarding me with a reserved intensity I realise means he is being sincere, "you had been given so much off Bill's after being nearly drained by Longshadow, that you may have been turned. Giving you mine helped to combat that – as well as the – other effects."
"Thank you" I say quietly. I mean it. The sense of relief that comes over me is so strong that I see Eric nod in response. He must have felt it too, despite our weak tie.
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"To let you know of a change in our plans. I will go to ground at Bills before the sun rises" he says, and my eyes flicker to the window. Dawn can't be too far away. "I've arranged with a transport company to be taken over with him to Fangtasia, during the day."
"Light-proof travel coffins" he says, answering the question in my confused look.
"I will then silver him and meet you at Fangtasia at first dark. We will then fly out to Dallas, where we will confer with a colleague of mine, the Sheriff of that area, someone vastly more suited to answering our questions than Sophie Anne."
"But I can't just go gallivanting to Dallas without telling Gran!" I protest. "What am I going to say to her? And Sam needs me, Eric! I can't just leave him in the lurch!"
"Yes" he says, eyes flickering over me. "If only you had someone who looked exactly like you, sounded exactly like you, had all your memories of your friends and family…" he breaks off as I start shaking my head in confusion. "Yes Sookie? You look as if you might know of someone suitable? Who are they?"
He angles his head towards me and a slight smile creeps across his face. The same smile I'd seen on future Eric's face that first night: mocking but without any real malice. He was joking with me.
I roll my eyes at him. "Oh well, I have this twin sister who is really into pillow-fighting and giving her sorority sisters rubdowns with massage oils," I say flippantly. "Her name is Sveta." If he wants to kid around, so can I: I also want to unnerve him a bit.
He just raises his eyebrows appreciatively at me.
"But timey-wimey-wibbley-wobbley stuff!" I let out, abandoning the idea of unnerving Eric. My tolerance for time travel story lines also extends to the more modern Doctor Who, and their catchphrases. "I thought the idea behind all this dress up and playacting was that we were trying not to contaminate the future – time stream – or something!"
I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed furthest from him. He leans towards me, propping his head up with one hand while the other lies on the bed between us. "Isn't that what they want to avoid?"
"After getting some – answers – from another source." He stalls my question by pulling his face into a "no idea" expression. "They seem content with letting this go ahead."
The hand on the bed comes up to rub his temple, as he says "It appears they are in a bubble where their – influence – is quite minimal. It is we that are important, and must proceed as closely as possible to how things were for them. There is some leeway apparently, but I do not understand how this is determined. It is permissible for us to go to Dallas because this happened previously. We even went there for a similar purpose – to find the vampire we seek this time."
I crinkle my forehead, focusing on understanding. "If they are in this bubble though – sort of separate", my hands making a pushing away gesture from where Eric and I sit together on the bed. "Why is it we have to run around fixing things? Isn't it kind of a lost cause?"
He rolls onto his back and moves up the bed, so he can rest his head back against the headboard, still looking at me. "They say they can not take actions which might affect our future, as it would then affect them. It would disrupt the bubble around them which keeps them anchored here. We can do it however" his hands coming to represent a line "as we are meant to be here, making changes to this point in time."
"But how do we do it? Didn't their source bother to tell'em that when he let my other self, know she could just move right back in? " I ask, with a note of dismay creeping into my voice.
"No" he answers me. His skeptical look matches my snort.
"It doesn't feel right" I say, "just running off and letting her come in here and replace me." I give a shudder at the image of watching myself through a window while my duplicate self, attired in my uniform, eats dinner with Gran.
"Do you see an alternative?" he asks, looking across to the window. I don't. I feel like I've been stitched up, unable to move, except in the way they want me too.
"Was it her idea?" I ask, suspiciously, thinking of cuckoo birds and nests.
"No" he says, getting up with one more lingering look at me. "She was quite – freaked out – by the prospect."
I could fight about this. If I was not so dog tired, I could barely keep my eyes open at this point, I would have. Instead, I take a breath and remind myself: Tomorrow is another day. You can work out the kinks you have with this plan later, when you can think straight after getting some sleep. I can't let it go completely though and mutter: "Gran will know".
"Let us hope not" answers Eric, bending down to straighten the covers, as I watch bemused by his taking the time.
He steps over to the window, calling out to me "I have to leave now. I will send my dayman with information about the arrangements for you. I will pay for your expenses."
I stand and follow him around the bed. Again, the feeling of being stitched up so thoroughly I couldn't get a toe out of line if I tried, is coming up. I open my mouth to let him know I can at least – contribute – to the cost, when he swings around. "There is something else, Mr Compton neglected to mention," he says. I can feel an undercurrent of amusement from him. "Our blood can also grant you very stimulating dreams."
He watches me while the penny drops.
"I'm going to have sex dreams? With you in them?" I ask appalled, trying desperately not to look as self-conscious as I feel.
"Lots" he says smoothly. "Although, if you ever want me to star in anything more concrete for you, Sookie. You only have to ask." His eyes take a stroll down my body again.
"Out" I say, pointing to the window. He gives me that smile again, and walks to the window. There is a decided strut in his walk, and it makes me realise how broad his shoulders are before they slim down to his toned waist. I swallow as I watch the procedure of him going through the window again, this time in reverse.
"Sookie, one last thing…" he trails off, looking at me expectantly through the window.
"Yes Eric?" I grate out, as he obviously wants me to do.
"Sweet dreams," he says, his lips wrapping into a decidedly smug smile. Then, without giving me time to respond, he vanishes at vamp speed.
I sit down on the bed. The mattress creaks and shifts with the force of me dropping onto it. "Yeah, you better run" I mutter tiredly to myself.
I feel his hand float down my side and I shiver. The imprint of his lips to my spine is feather-soft. I tense as his lips slowly dip down my back, trailing kisses. His hand comes up and gently brushes the underside of my left breast. I push out slightly to let his hand fill with them, but his hand vanishes to leisurely trace its way down my spine, just with his fingertips. He focuses on the back of my neck, cavorting in light touches over the skin there. Moving in a rhythmic pattern he stokes down – once, twice – and then I feel his tongue slip over where his fingers had been. It moves in one glorious stroke downwards.
The breath that I been holding since he started, rattles out of me.
His hand moves again, more decisively, shifting me backwards and cradling me to him. I let my curves flow onto his angles, a confidence strumming through my body. My eyes sweep over the sculpted form that arches protectively around me. I feel so aware of each sensation as they ripple through me; the coolness of his skin, the tug of the sheets rearranging themselves over our bodies as we move, the desire which lights me up like a candle. Aware and accepting, I ride each wave of sensation with my newfound knowledge. My hands reach for him as the very cells in my body cry out for the sun as I sunbathe – craving the warm sunlight on my skin – calling it down into me. Wanting it to be a part of me. He kisses me and I feel myself soar into him. Our senses mingling in a place beyond touch, beyond sensation. He pulls away, and our eyes met in a moment of profound understanding.
This was right.
"Sookie," he whispers, his voice intent. "Don't trust Bill".
I woke with a violent start; my heart fit to burst out of my chest with its pounding. I started to straighten the welter of sheets around me, willing my heart to slow. I lay back with an exhausted huff. Something tells me I'm going to need more than one packet of Tylenol before this is all done.
A/N: It may be a while before I can update again as I will be focusing on my Nano - hope the two chapters will tide you over. Please let me know your thoughts about the story so far if you would like to grace me with them!