Present day...

SPOV

She promised herself she wouldn't cry. She'd be a good soldier. A soldier who had one job: to live. To live one day at a time until the war was over.

She didn't cry. Not when she found Agatha lying in a pool of blood. Not when she was hiding in the pantry clutching a knife waiting for the monster to come. Not even when the police told her that Ben was missing - presumed abducted.

She didn't cry. Crying was a futile effort. A chore for the weak.

And she wasn't weak. She was pragmatic, tragically so. She knew her tears wouldn't do any good. They wouldn't bring Agatha back nor would they save Ben. She had learned that the hard way. Once again, the world had decided to screw her over and her tears wouldn't have the power to undo what had been done.

She didn't cry. Not a single tear grazed her cheek.

Until he walked in.

And just like that she was reminded of how broken she really was.

He broke her. She guessed it's true what her Gran used to say, no one can hurt you the hardest than the person you loved the most. The tears she fought furiously to keep at bay trickled one after another before they gushed relentlessly. She hated him even more for that. Hated how he sneaked back into her life like an errant tornado in winter. Hated the way he tried to read her the way he profiled everyone else. Hated the pitiful look he gave her when Quinn mentioned Virginia. Screw his pity.

Screw him.

"Got word from Chief," Quinn broke the silence in the car. "He said the feds agreed to keep a lid on your identity until it's confirmed that this wasn't a copycat."

The back of her hand lashed to wipe the tears off her cheek as she nodded.

"I have a box of tissue at the back."

She didn't make a move to fetch it as she kept staring at the window.

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

Again, she offered no response.

The silence she had embraced seemed to be too profound for her companion. "Chief had sent your records to the feds. You don't need to give any of 'em a history lesson. You don't have to talk about Louisiana. They have your husband to fill in the blanks."

Husband.

Could he still be her husband if they had been apart for so goddamned long? If hate instead of love was the first and most dominant emotion she felt when she saw him? Could he still be the love of her messed up life? She felt a bout of fresh tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest provocation. She bit hard, so hard her teeth squeaked.

"They're good at intimidation, I think that's why they wear suits all the time. It's part of the whole game. They'll ask you questions, questions that will make you uncomf'table. Questions about Ben and your relationship with him. Answer them as concise as possible. Brevity will be your strongest suit. They'll ask you about what happened tonight. They'll pick at every little thing you did. Why you were at Ben's place? They've probably pulled your phone records by now so they'll find out that I was your first call instead of 911."

A cold finger poked her spine as she remembered her conversation with Quinn.

'I've been compromised. Call Niall, tell him: Alexandria is warm this time of the year.'

"Now can you tell me what the code meant?" Quinn inquired for the hundredth time tonight. He was a good Marshal. He knew the drill: secure the assignment, ask questions later. And ask he did, every time they were alone he would ask him what Alexandria stood for and all she had given him was a blank stare.

"I'm your handler. I should know every goddamned thing about you." He sounded upset. When she didn't reply, he sighed audibly and scratched the back of his head in frustration. "You trust me with your life but you couldn't trust me with Alexandria."

"My life is trivial compared to it," was all the answer he would get from her.

He finally relented. With another tired sigh he continued with his debriefing. "They'll probably ask why you chose to hide instead of run. Why you were armed." Quinn paused to take a breath as he steered the wheel to the left after the intersection leading to the FBI headquarters in Atlanta. "I would have preferred it if you had your taser with you but I guess the fact that you had to improvise with a kitchen knife works to your advantage. Means you're not expectin' any trouble."

Quinn kept rattling off possible queries, thinking out loud, mostly talking to himself. It was his nervous tell.

"Quinn," Sookie finally turned to face him for the first since she got in the car. "It's okay. I'm okay. I got this. You don't have to worry about me."

He gave a loud chuckle before he snapped his head to her. "I have every reason to worry," he blurted, emphasizing every word. "You were compromised. If you had gotten there thirty minutes earlier I wouldn't be driving with you right now. I'd be escorted to the morgue to identify your body. I'd be explainin' to Niall how the fuck I managed to screw the one job he gave me. And y'know what, you gettin' killed isn't even the worst case scenario. You could have been taken too only to be tortured for days. And I would be having a very different conversation with your freakishly scary husband."

Sookie looked away, once again reminded of Eric's ominous presence.

"Does he ever smile?" Quinn tried to lighten the mood. "Because the whole time we were in the study he was glaring at me - like he's blaming me. I was honestly afraid that if I got any closer he'd gouge my eyes out. He just looked so… so angry."

Eric wasn't always that angry. Then again, neither was she.

"What did he tell you when he followed you to the bathroom? Did you have 'the talk'?"

She shook her head. "He didn't come here for me," she murmured.

They reached the FBI compound. Quinn grappled with the wheel to park his black sedan in an almost empty lot. "That may be true. But did you see the look on his face when he saw you? It was like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. I think he still cares."

She whipped her head to Quinn. "He dumped me, Quinn. He doesn't have the right to care."

The Marshal turned off the engine before he raised his hands in the air. "Fine, I rest my case," he conceded. "Can we go back to the task at hand before you bite my head off?"

Sookie bobbed her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Y'know something still doesn't make sense to me. Why in God's name did you choose to hide in the pantry? It's the first thing I taught you: if you're gonna hide, pick a spot with an exit point. Your best bet is the bathroom in the kitchen, it has a window and it can be locked from the inside. Why trap yourself in the pantry?"

Sookie reached for the door handle and pulled it. "I don't know," she lied.

E/S

Three years and nine months ago…

The floor creaked beneath her feet as she stepped inside her Gran's house. A halo of rainbow-colored dust swirled in the air reminding her of just how long the house had been deserted.

I don't wanna be here.

She chastised herself for thinking it. For as long as she could remember the farmhouse had been her home. At the end of even the most terrible of days you'd always find your way home, her Gran used to tell them.

But she was lost. She didn't know where home was.

That's why she stayed away. After she had left the morgue she went back to the hotel, where she had checked in the day before the wedding. She had asked her entourage - Tara, Lafayette and Jessica – to give her a moment alone as she stripped off her bridal gown and stepped into the shower where she blasted herself with ice-cold water. She changed into a pair of ripped denim jeans and a plain white tee she found from the luggage that she was supposed to bring to Cabo for their honeymoon. Then she headed to the Sheriff's Office to meet Eric, who had launched the largest search-and-rescue operation Shreveport had ever seen. It was total bedlam in the station, everyone was talking at the same time. Eric was shooting orders left and right, dividing the area into elaborate grids so the volunteers wouldn't go in circles. Friends and neighbors were in and out offering consoling words and manpower for the search party. She wanted to be part of the search team but Eric had given strict orders to keep her in his office. Considering the state Eric was in, she decided that it was in everyone's best interest for her to stay put as she manned the tip lines. It was frustrating to be tied to a desk, patiently waiting for calls that might or might not have any substance to the case.

She could feel people watching her, from the local law enforcers to long-time friends. To them she was a spectacle. Like a car accident in the middle of the road where everyone circled around her, shaking their head out of empathy while thanking the Lord it didn't happen to them. Her story was a cautionary tale for anyone who ever thought they could have it all. 'Look at her,' she heard one of the volunteers say. 'The saddest bride I've ever seen.' She didn't mind it though, she'd rather be gawked at than go home.

She still managed to keep her distance from the farmhouse. After she left the precinct the next day, she went straight to Merlotte's. Sam's bar and grill had been the designated command post for the search team in Bon Temps. This time she was able to help with the actual searching. No one stopped her. It was her turf after all. Along with Sam and Lafayette, they went to their old high school, where Jason and Hoyt used to hang out. They scoured every inch of the building including the nearby woods. It almost felt like an errand. Like something parents would do to a restless toddler to keep idle minds busy.

By noon, her limbs were sagging from exhaustion, so much so that she kept tripping over her own feet. She had gone so long without sleep she had forgotten how to do it. She caught Sam and Lafayette giving each other looks a few times as they tried to convince her to slow down and rest. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. She would rest when they find Jason and Pam. She would slow down once she's certain they were safe. She knew sh was dead weight to them - an inconvenience - someone they needed to babysit and log around and for that she was sorry.

But she wasn't sorry enough to go home. It was too painful to be in her Gran's farmhouse. To be surrounded with all the mementos that her grandmother had collected over the years. To be pummelled with all the memories she didn't want to remember.

Not yet. She wasn't ready yet.

Then, a little past one in the afternoon, the medical examiner called. They were done with the autopsy. Gran could finally go home. And so should she.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Lafayette asked behind her, jarring her back to the present.

She wasn't but she had no other choice. Gran had been in a freezer in a morgue with nothing but a sheet and a toe tag for the past two days. Gran deserved more than that.

"I need to get her clothes for the funeral." She almost didn't recognize her own voice. It was hoarse and weak and it was making her feel even more pathetic.

She trudged toward the staircase, her hand latching on the banister. Just get it over with, she told herself. One step at a time, one fucking step at a time. Her foot rose to start her ascent when she made the mistake of looking up to the top of the stairs and saw her Gran's bedroom door yawning wide. Her grandmother never locked her door, it was always open. Months after her parents died she and Jason had recurring night terrors and the only way they could go back to sleep was if they were in their Gran's bed with the lights on. That's why their Gran never shut her bedroom door or turned off her bedside lamps. So her grandchildren could easily find their way onto her bed and tuck themselves in.

Her throat clamped at the sight, she couldn't breathe. The air felt heavy, so thick. She didn't realize she was shaking until she felt Lafayette's hands clutching her shoulders.

"Sook? You okay, baby girl?"

"I – I can't. I can't," she stammered as she shook her head, the skin on her knuckles as pale as her face. "I can't go up there. I can't go through her closet, I can't sit on her bed, I - I can't Lala, I can't."

Lafayette swung her against his chest and began stroking her hair. "S'okay baby girl, s'okay. Breathe. You poor thing's been through so much shit I was surprised you can still stand," Lafayette hummed.

She was due for a meltdown, but with Jason and Pam still missing, she couldn't afford to shut down, to get sucked into her own grief. Lafayette took her hand, slowly prying her fingers one by one off the railing, and led her to the living room with his arm around her shoulder.

"Why don't I fix you a cup of tea to soothe your nerves? Sound good?"

She shook her head and pulled herself up. "I'll do it," she replied. It was bad enough she couldn't get herself to take eleven stupid steps up the stairs, she could make her own damn tea.

Lafayette didn't argue as he wordlessly followed her to the kitchen. They passed by the front door and saw Sam talking on his cell. He waved at her from his truck and she merely nodded. Normally she would smile and wave back but she was too tired and too depressed to even fake niceties.

The kitchen was neat, not a dirty dish in the sink – just the way her Gran wanted. The counters had gathered a thin layer of dust, a sad reminder of the past couple of days. She reached for the kettle in one of the overhead cupboards, filled it with tap water then placed it on the stovetop.

"Where're the tea teabags?" Lafayette asked, breaking the silence.

"They're in the red Twining can in the pantry. Top left, beside the jars of cornichon and Spam."

Lafayette opened the two-door pantry, stepped inside and began looking for the teabag can. "It ain't here. Wait, what's this?" He hunkered down to grab something from the floor. A second later he emerged with a silver necklace dangling from his finger. It wasn't a necklace though, it was a military-issued dog tag.

"G. Northman," Lafayette read the name inscribed in the small rectangular metal hanging from the chain, before handing it to her. "Is this Eric's?"

A lump formed in her throat as she untangled the dog tag from her friend's fingers. "It was Eric's dad's, Godric Northman. He got it when he was enlisted in the Army during the Vietnam War. Eric kept it with him when his dad died. He wears it all the time – even in the shower." Her lips curved into a tiny smile as she stared at the accessory in her hand.

Lafayette must have seen her face light up because there was an impish lilt in his voice when he asked, "How did it get all the way to the pantry?"

"Long story," she said with a dismissive shrug. She dropped the chain on the table and turned her back to her friend.

"We've got time," Lafayette wouldn't let up.

She took a necessary breath before she swivelled sharply to face Lafayette, hands balled up to her sides. Lafayette's inquisition seemed uncouth. She knew he didn't mean to sound thoughtless but she was far too raw to take shit.

"I don't," she gritted. "I've got a million things to do, Lala. I need to put Gran to rest. I haven't even called the funeral parlor or the insurance agency to pay for Gran's service. I have to pick the flowers and the casket and – God," her voice trembled as her palms slammed on top of the table. She squeezed her eyes tight. "I can't even get myself to march upstairs to get Gran's dress."

Two weeks ago, she was arguing with the florist for not having enough lilies to decorate the chapel, now she was going to ask if they had enough magnolias for her Gran. She tried to soldier on. She shouldn't cry. Not in front of Lafayette. Not again.

Her hands flew to cover her face, the heels of her palms pressing against her eyelids, as though that would stop the tears she had been trying to hold. "I'm useless. So fuckin' useless. Eric's out there, ruthlessly working day and night to look for Pam and Jase and I can't do one stupid task."

Lafayette pinched her elbow softly. "You're not useless. You hear me. Not at all. You're human, who just had her life upended. You're so used to doin' everythin' for everybody that you don't know how to accept help. You don't have to do everythin' yourself, Sook. That's why we're here. To help. It's our turn. Let us. No one will think less of you if you curl into a ball and wail until you can't cry no more. No one will tell you to get a fuckin' grip if you lose it. S'okay to cry, baby girl, cry and scream and break somethin'."

She could feel Lafayette's eyes on her, waiting for an epic breakdown. She wasn't one for histrionics, though, Jason was. Even when they were kids, Jason knew how to throw a hell of a tantrum. Her brother wore his heart on his sleeves. 'I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. I may be as deep as a puddle of water but I have passion, and that's more than I need to get the girls,' he used to quip.

Where are you, Jase? she asked for the millionth time.

"Why don't I get Gran's dress? Just tell me where it's at," Lafayette offered, after a moment of pregnant silence.

She took her hands off her face to look at her friend. The tenderness in his face caught her off guard.

Her gaze dropped to her hands on the table. "There's a brown cardboard box on top of the closet. You'll probably need to use the ottoman under the bureau to reach it. In it was the dress Pam gave Gran last Christmas – it's a dark blue silk dress with lace sleeves. Pam designed it herself for Gran. She said Gran has to have an original Pam."

'It's silk organza, Gran. The same fabric we're using for Sookie's bridal gown," Pam gushed. 'My boss tries to steal the exact pattern and use it for her collection. As if that's gonna happen." Pam had just started her apprenticeship for a local designer in New Orleans. And she had been very vocal with her growing disdain toward her employer, who according to Pam was 'a talentless hack from a talented family'.

'Thank you, it's the most beautiful dress I have to my name. You spoil me."

Pam winked at Gran and said. "Now you know how I feel."

Lafayette bobbed his head. "She's right you know. Everyone needs a Pam."

"She never got to use it," Sookie hushed before she took a deep breath. "She never had the chance to wear the most beautiful dress she owned."

Lafayette, as loquacious as he was, couldn't come up with a reassuring phrase.

A few heartbeats later, he squeezed her shoulder and said, "I better go and get that dress."

Sookie nodded and waited until Lafayette was out of the kitchen before she scooped up Eric's dog tag from table and wore it around her neck. The kettle whistled behind her. She marched to the counter and turned off the stove. Then ever so quietly, she walked to the pantry, pulled the doors shut and slipped into the darkness.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she clutched the two pieces of metal dangling from the chain and did what everyone had been expecting of her: she finally broke down. Her shoulders quaked as she rocked back and forth. It was easier to weep, let the tears stream shamelessly down her cheeks, when she was alone. For days she had denied herself the grief. Pushed back the memories and soldiered on.

It was time to let go.

The day the police came to inform Gran of their parents' demise, Jason and Sookie were in the living room playing a boring game of Monopoly. Jason was declaring himself a millionaire while counting his fake money when they heard Gran's visceral cry. Knocking over the board, Jason skipped over the table and thundered to the foyer, fists flailing in the air as he attacked the state trooper. He didn't need a reason to strike the lawman, Gran's howl was reason enough. Jason, in all his 12-year-old wisdom, already knew the part he was going to play in the family. He was the defender - their shield.

Where are you Jase?

She wondered if Jason was there when Gran was murdered. Did he come charging when the killer grabbed Gran and stashed her in the trunk? Did he cry when the bastard plugged two bullets in Gran's skull? Did he and Pam put up a fight? Did he beg the killer to shoot him instead and just let Gran and Pam go?

Oh God, Pam.

The sister she never had grew up in a house of sheriffs. She would know what to do. She even gave Sookie a crash course on survival when they lived together in New Orleans back in college. She knew exactly what to do in crises like a break-in, a mugging or a fire. Pam could take a punch and return it with interest. She was a fighter.

She was hiccupping now, trying to catch small gasps of air as she wiped her runny nose with back of her hand. She must have been crying a little too loudly because she didn't hear the sound of the footsteps approaching the pantry until the door swung wide open.

Her head jolted up as a familiar face gazed down at her with wild eyes.

"Eric?" She pulled herself up, wobbling a little as her knees buckled. He caught her arm and steadied her. Her heart clenched as she stood in front him. His v-neck gray shirt had a torn sleeve. His dark denim pants had grass stains and dried mud while his hiking boots had left a trail of mud on the tiled floor. His usually combed back hair hung limply against his forehead and the bags under his eyes told her of the sleepless nights he had. She stepped forward, one arm outstretched. She wanted to hug him, touch his face, grab the front of his shirt - any form of contact. She'd take it. She'd take anything she could hold on to.

But she couldn't, and for a second – for a heartbeat—she hesitated. They both did. She could see it in his face. He was as unsure – probably as terrified as she was. Terrified that a single movement might push them off the edge, reveal just how devastated they both were.

A taut silence descended. Three days ago they couldn't get their paws off each other and now they couldn't close their small gap.

Eric ran his fingers through his hair. "You weren't answering your phone," he muttered.

Sookie looked down at her feet. "I – I must have left it in Sam's truck." She left it there on purpose. She didn't like the feel of it in her hand. After the phone call from Bill, there was always that irrational dread in her that someone would call her again with yet more tragic news.

"You did. Sam picked it up; he told me you're here."

Sookie felt a tinge of irritation toward Sam for taking the liberty of answering her calls. She swallowed it down, reminding herself that her friend – all her friends - had meant well. Apparently, her life was everyone's business now.

"Is there any news?"

His shoulders sagged. "Calvin still has nothing about the gray minivan that was spotted parked behind the Corvette. Without a plate to run, we have to canvass every gray minivan in Louisiana. We've coordinated with the DMV but they said it might take a while." Eric let out another heavy sigh as he leaned against the side of pantry. Looking at him right now made her feel guilty for thinking she was tired.

"When was the last time you slept, Eric?"

He shook his head. "I was out all night with the dogs. They weren't able to pick up a scent. We just kept circling back to the abduction site. There was no trail. Nothing. It doesn't make sense. Pam should've known better. She should've left me something. She should've known I'd come looking for her. She should've-"

His shoulders began trembling. The mere sight of it crushed her. She lunged forward and flung her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his heaving chest. She didn't want to see him like that. She didn't say anything as she listened to his heartbeat and his quiet whimpers. She could feel the desperation, the frustration, the unspoken horror every time his chest moved up and down. And all she could do was hold him.

Time seemed to stand still as she waited for his heartbeat to return to normal, for his sobs to die down.

"Chow said I should get some sleep but I think it's his polite way of telling me I need a shower." There was a hint of levity in his tone but Sookie didn't buy it. "I caved and asked him to drive me home. We were only two blocks away when I remembered the boxes - Pam's boxes – which are currently occupying the living room. Amelia wanted to move them to their apartment yesterday and I almost bit her head off. It's ridiculous, isn't it? For the past couple of weeks I've been begging – grovelling – even tried bribing Pam to get her things out of the house and now I don't want anyone touching them."

Sookie loosened her arms and lifted her head to meet his gaze. Eric's bloodshot eyes were glassy with tears.

"I can't go home. I don't know if I can set foot in that house knowing she wouldn't be there."

Sookie cupped the side of his cheek. "I know," she husked. "Why do you think I was hiding here?"

Eric's gaze flickered to the pantry beside them. "Do you mind if I hide with you for a few minutes?"

Her lips cracked into a rare smile as her hand took his, guiding him to the space where she had taken refuge before he arrived. They sat, crouching side by side with their backs to the shelves of canned goods. His folded legs were still too long for them to shut the doors so they left them open. Resting her head on his shoulder, she entwined her fingers with his and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry I smell like dogs," he apologized meekly.

She tipped her head and buried her nose at the crook of his neck. "No. You smell like hope."

A/N: I don't own Eric.

I've been bad. So very bad. I let RL get between me and Eric. Sorry. I want to post regularly, I do. I just kept getting sidetracked by a bunch of things. I'll try to post sooner. As a way to make up for my absence - again - I posted another chapter on my wordpress site. It's actually an outtake. The story of what happened in the pantry that Sookie wouldn't tell Lala. It's fluffy-ish and I don't think it'll fit this gloomy chapter. If you're interested its on eys1214 . wordpress . com titled: Glows in the dark.

Thank you! Much much love!

PS: Amandagm is a rockstar!