XII.

'Embassies don't make you safe. They're actually a great target….' she had said with a cool tone that night in June. Yet month after month her work had taken her there to this embassy. The embassy at which I hoped she wasn't going to die.

As I sat watching the TV I remembered every argument we'd had about her job, and about her moving back to Louisiana. I remembered resolving in August to argue less about those two things. I would be silent, rather than argue, no matter how much I wanted to argue and get her to do what I want. Most of all, I remembered the Skype conversation we'd had the day before she'd left, when I asked her if she'd thought more about whether she'd marry me legally. I hadn't asked since that August night when she'd said she would think about it. We'd argued terribly the following day and I finally began to understand that I would never get anywhere by fighting with her on the topic of quitting the job or moving back, let alone getting married. I decided to 'give her more space', as she liked to put it. I had gritted my teeth and decided to try it her way for a time. To be patient.

She had been in such a playful mood when we'd spoken only four nights ago. So I finally asked her again, after a month of silence on the topic.

"Have you thought more about the second thing?"

She paused and looked at me with a smile.

"Yeah, I've thought about it. I dunno. I'm thinking it might be a plan."

"Is that a yes or a no answer?"

"No."

"So you're still saying 'no'?"

"Nope. I'm saying it's not a yes or a no answer. 'It might be a plan' is not an answer to the question," she said giving me a mischievous look.

"You're planning to keep this up?" I'd said with a sigh.

"Give me another week. I'll be there next week, and we should talk in person about such an important thing, right?"

"So then you'll say yes when you're here?" I tried not to sound too expectant.

"Might be. You might get what you want. Imagine that. Eric Northman getting what he wants. What an unexpected thing…" She laughed and then said, "But we would definitely need to talk about stuff."

"What 'stuff'?"

"Later, my Liege," she said with a very wry look. "Like when I'm there. It's only a week, Eric. Actually, really, less. So, just relax. You know, you should see the email Pam sent me tonight. It has fashion, music and book suggestions and comments about all the goings on there, intercut with accusations that I'm a bad friend because I changed my dates for the September visit and 'let her down'. Plus various demands. 'Compensations' she calls them. She's a riot. Since she always says I'm so amusing, I'm telling you she is the most amusing friend ever. Feel free to tell her I said so. It would be worth it to marry you just to have her as family. Although, I'd have to admit, there are a couple of other excellent reasons I can think of, having nothing to do with Pam, that also might make it pretty worthwhile." She'd smiled flirtatiously at the camera. Then the cat jumped in her lap and the moment was lost.

Now I was watching her on a roof, halfway around the world, shooting at people who were shooting at her. I wondered if once again I'd made a major miscalculation by just letting her do as she pleased. Not putting my foot down, or arguing with her more. Giving her her precious space. All I could think about was leaving her alone that night in Bon Temps and that then the fairies got her and it was a miracle that she survived. The Taliban weren't fairies. But it looked as if they could kill just about as efficiently.

I had wanted her to be free to choose, not to control her. That was so important to her. The only way to make her feel safe, secure in her choices. The only way, I thought, to guarantee that she would choose. That had been important to me. I had wanted her to choose to come home, to marry me. I was certain that she would. And it had seemed like we were just a few short days from those choices becoming reality. There was such a difference between pride in having her make the decision to be with me, and the vampire-borne pride in being able to control someone. But now, looking at her refusing to get into a helicopter before everyone was out of that building, I wondered if maybe the distinction hadn't been as important as just keeping her safe might have been.

The inane song filtered through my mind as I watched missiles destroy the embassy within what seemed to be mere seconds of their helicopter pulling off that roof. But the words that hung in my mind were not the ones that had bothered me before. No, they were the ones that she had bannered on her laptop. She certainly seemed to believe in them.

Necessity conquers fear…

It was really a great motto. If it didn't get you killed.