A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoy the chapter. Pleasepleaseplease review, I just love them and they make me want to write more!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Previously:

"Good evening, sweetheart." My tone was sharper than I had intended, too much sarcasm laced in the words. I knew it was from being nervous, an emotion was I truly unfamiliar with. It was fucking annoying. I watched her expression, keeping my own as blank as possible. Perhaps the lack of smugness would invite her to feel more relaxed.

Instead, it seemed to close her off more. I could feel her emotions sinking, remorse coursing through her and feeding into me. It seemed she was regretting last night. How fucking lovely. My temper was rising, and I allowed the anger to wash out my disappointment. The irritation wrapped around me like black tar, hardening my heart and my face. I welcomed it, a shield against the pain I had stupidly allowed Sookie to be able to inflict on me.

She regretted it, regretted me. Rejection was not something I had experienced in centuries, and I found it was no friend of mine.

"Hey," She responded, after several minutes of tense silence. She stood, looking as out of place as I felt. "Are we still doing the telepathy thing tonight?"

My lips pressed together, keeping in a growl. So tonight would be all business, it seemed. My fingers itched to break something, my dismay turning into anger. Rage, I could handle; rejection, I found, was another matter.

"Yes. Get your shoes on and let's go." I turned and left through the front door, regretting not driving to the safehouse. A miscalculation on my part. I realized I had expected a more pliant Sookie, one who I would enjoy cradling against me. Not this closed-off version, the one who didn't want me. I scowled at the moon, my hands fisted by my side. This was fucking absurd.

It was going to be a long night.

Well, this is awkward.

I sat in the seat of Eric's Corvette, fidgeting and trying to ignore the loaded silence between us. Not a word had been spoken since we'd left the safehouse—I didn't even scream when he unceremoniously scooped me off the porch and flew us to a beautiful little cottage in the middle of the woods behind my prison. I had wondered if that was where he lived, or if he maybe just kept another hostage in there. Maybe he had a psychic locked in the basement.

Eric's Corvette was parked in the little driveway, and he had set me down next to it as if I were on fire. My ego was a little bruised at the fact he couldn't seem to get away from me fast enough. He had started the car, still silent, and zoomed out of the driveway, down a smooth, one-lane path, and onto the main road. The longer he drove without speaking, the more uncomfortable I felt. I watched the scenery pass me by, glaring morosely out of the window.

Last night was obviously a mistake. One big, fat, giant mistake and I was stupid enough to have let it happen. I sighed, wanting to ask him what the general plan for tonight was, but afraid to break the tension filling the space between us. I couldn't bear the thought of him calling me 'sweetheart' again so callously, not after the intimacy of last night. It was easier to wallow in silence.

Thankfully, I didn't have long to wait before we pulled into a parking lot. Looking around, I realized we were right by a strip of bars located in downtown Shreveport. My eyebrows rose. Surely to God we weren't going clubbing? I turned to look at Eric and maybe ask him 'What the fuck?' but he was studiously not looking at me. I huffed in annoyance and settled against the car door, staring out the window. If the Sheriff was going to ignore me, I had no problem doing the same to him.

Sighing again, softer this time, I relaxed into the void of Eric's mind. We'd only been sitting in the car for a few minutes, but already the multitude of brains were beating at my shields. I had been cut off from people for only a handful of days, and yet I could tell I was already out of practice at keeping invasive thoughts out. I let the firm, steely warmth of his brain envelop me, soothing the slight pounding already forming in my temples as the deluge of thoughts ebbed away.

To ignore the ocean of distance growing between us, I started people watching. Groups of tipsy partiers were flitting in and out of bars, laughing and flirting as their inhibitions slipped. A small pang of envy ran through me; drinking in groups was a big no-no for me, as being intoxicated greatly affected my ability to block out thoughts-not to mention the fact I didn't exactly have an extensive social support network to go partying with. I'd been drunk with Lafayette and his cousin—and my only other friend—Tara, but that had been at Lafayette's house, safely hidden from public view. My stomach gave a weird lurch as I realized I had barely thought of them since my abduction. As a matter of fact, I had barely given thought to Gran, either. My mood soured more as a deep sense of shame unfurled in my heart.

At some point in the last week—probably when Godric had planted the idea of humanizing Eric—I realized suddenly that I'd gotten sidetracked, big time. Instead of using my wits or actively looking for ways out, I'd been relying on, even anticipating, just being set free, something that would obviously never happen. Godric was wrong; Eric didn't give a shit about me. I had just been a quick meal last night, nothing more. He could call me sweet, Swedish pet names all night long, but that didn't change the fact that I had been played. Eric got his midnight snack and an orgasm; I'd even, stupidly, accidentally, bitten him in the throes of my own climax and drank more of his blood. Once again, I had underestimated Eric and his wiles. I was a fucking fool.

In my dogged quest to get back home to Bon Temps, I had forgotten all about everyone still there. I had barely given thought to Gran, on how she was doing. The shame in my heart leaked into my stomach and twisted my intestines. I was sick to my stomach on how little I'd considered how my disappearance was affecting everyone. I had cried in front of Eric about it, sure, but for the most part I hadn't been allowing myself to think about it.

No, I mused, that's not strictly true. It wasn't about allowing myself to think on it, I just didn't want to.

My chagrin only grew the longer I sat in that Corvette. Facing my problems was not one of my fortes, I realized. I actively avoided most of my problems, leaving them for another day; I was susceptible to tunnel vision, perhaps more so than most. I couldn't see the forest for the trees. I needed to get myself back on track.

The sound of a car door opening drew me from my internal beratement, and I looked over to see Eric unfolding his long limbs from the car. My hand moved to the handle of my own door, only for Eric to bark, "Stay!" before he slammed his door.

Flushing instantly with anger, I yelled back, "I'm not a dog, you dick!"

Yeah, Godric had definitely been wrong. Maybe he really was part of Eric's plot to break me down. Speak of the devil…

Pam and Godric had climbed out of a car that had parked near us, the windows tinted so dark I couldn't see inside. The three Vampires stood near the back of the Corvette, talking among themselves. Fuming, I watched them conversing. Pam looked angry; Godric, curious; and I could only see the back of Eric's head, the ends of his hair brushing the collar of his leather jacket. My fingers drummed restlessly against the door, debating on just getting out of the car. Who did Eric think he was, talking to me like that? My heart hardened further against him. I wanted to get back on track, right? Well, obedience was going to get me nowhere.

Quick as I could, I opened the door and stepped out, ignoring Eric's snarling glare as studiously as he had ignored me in the car. He could stuff it. I walked up to Pam—the only Vampire I felt had been honest with me—and asked her, "What are we doing near a bunch of bars?"

Her deep frown flipped into a smirk, "Telepathy testing. Time to see how that brain of yours works."

"Around all these people?" My eyebrows rose.

Eric, who I had been diligently refusing to look at, thrust a ballcap and sunglasses in my hands. "Put these on," He ordered. My hackles rose even further at his tone, and I snapped my eyes to his face.

"You listen to me," I spat, "I've had about enough of your attitude tonight. I'm a person, not a damn animal." I waved the sunglasses in his face. "And if you want me in disguise, wearing sunglasses at night is only gonna bring more attention to me." I thrust them back at his chest, and to my surprise, his face softened just slightly; now, instead of looking murderous, he had a deep scowl marring his features.

"Fine," He growled, "Put the fucking hat on." Huffing, I jammed it over my hair, glad it was a plain cap and not something ridiculous like a trucker hat á la Ashton Kutcher.

"So, what exactly do you expect me to do?" I directed my question at Pam again. Unsurprisingly, Godric cut in.

"Just a simple sift of thoughts. We hope to gauge the scope of your gift."

My foot tapped against the asphalt as I thought. "What part, exactly, will I be playing when we go to Mississippi?"

"You will not be in immediate danger," Eric interrupted. "Your telepathy will simply be a safeguard, in case you pick anything up. One of his humans or Weres may know something, or perhaps he will be suspicious of us and send one to stake us during the day, in which case you can intervene."

I sighed. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Does distance affect your telepathy?" Godric asked gently. I nodded once. "We should move closer to the crowd, then, and try to find somewhere secluded."

"Lead the way," I shrugged. Pam started a brisk pace towards the row of bars, the three of us following in her wake. We ended up stopping outside of an Irish pub, the sound of Rose Tattoo by Dropkick Murphys filtering through the open door.

How typical, I thought wryly.

An awning stretched over several wrought-iron tables placed in front of the building, providing just enough cover to satisfy Eric. He sauntered to an empty table near the front of the pub and sat facing the crowd. Pam and Godric flanked him, forcing me to sit with my back to the groups of people on the sidewalk. I understood the reasoning—to keep me from being possibly recognized—but it still made me feel uncomfortable and exposed.

Eric leaned forward, raising his voice just enough so I could hear him over the boisterous throng of people passing us. "I don't think it's necessary to tell you how bad an idea it would be for you to scream for help, is it?"

Putting my elbows on the metal table, I tilted closer to him and said sweetly, "Of course not, Sheriff. I'm not stupid." When I escape, you'll be good and dead for the day. As much as I detested how off-kilter I'd gotten the last few days, the mental affirmation felt good. I realized that I had been flailing in strange waters, trying to navigate the weird relationship that Godric had encouraged me to build. I ignored the flash of emotion in Eric's eyes when I used his title instead of his name, focusing instead on shoring up my own mental fortitude. I'll get home, I'll tell Gran and Sam what happened, tell the police, and we'll figure it all out from there. It'll all fall into place, and I'll do it my way, not the crack-pot idea Godric came up with…

Godric…

When is the last time Godric had a healthy relationship with another human? I thought humorously to myself, before considering the question in earnest. Jesus. Probably not since he was human, and even then, who knows? What in the world made me think he knew what he was talking about? Shaking my head, I came back to the present. The three Vampires were speaking quietly between each other, so low I couldn't hear. After a few more seconds of whispered hisses, Pam stood and strolled into the pub, her hips swaying in her impressively high heels.

"Where's she going?" I asked.

"It would call attention if we were sitting at a bar with no alcohol," Eric replied, his eyes scanning the groups of revelers. "Pam is off to get us drinks." Silence lapsed between the three of us before Eric spoke again a minute later. "What is he thinking?" One long finger pointed discretely to a man a few tables over, talking animatedly with a very pretty woman sitting across from him. I lowered my shields cautiously, prepared to slam them back into place if the flow of thoughts became unbearable. I was happily surprised to find I could focus on the couple fairly easily, keeping everything else more or less at bay.

I listened for a few moments, trying not to be too conspicuous. "He's not really actively thinking. He's telling her a story about work, and his brain is playing a kind of movie. It's like…he's narrating what he's seeing in his memory, if that makes sense."

"Fascinating," Godric said quietly, his deep brown eyes watching me. "What is his companion thinking?"

I smiled. "She's processing what he's saying, trying to envision it. The difference in what they're seeing is really incredible, actually, because he's replaying a memory and she's just trying to build an image, but it's clear she's never seen what his office looks like, and—"

Suddenly, I became aware I was gushing, describing these things. I was, for lack of a better term, geeking out, explaining the things I was mentally hearing. I was excited, to share these things. I felt a little bit like a scientist sharing the findings of a pet research project, bright-eyed and animated. I'd never felt comfortable enough to talk so openly of my ability, and here I was, tickled to death in front of two Vampires. I flushed and tried to calm myself down, settling back into my seat and clearing my throat.

"She's never been in his office, so she's just trying to picture it as best she can." I finished, much more sedately. My eyes flashed to Eric without my permission, locking in a brief stare before I looked away. I didn't want to get lost in his unfathomable blue eyes. I couldn't afford to get sucked back in.

Pam came back at that exact moment, setting mugs of beer in front of Godric and I. For herself, she had a Bloody Mary (really, Pam?) and for Eric, she'd gotten a curvy glass filled with fruit and blue liquid, topped with a paper umbrella. I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggle at the image of such a big, hulking man—who drank blood, no less—with such a stereotypically feminine drink. Not that men can't have girly drinks, mind you, but the juxtaposition was rather funny. Pam preened, obviously pleased with her little joke, but Eric was a mix of anger and bewilderment. The expression on his face only made me laugh harder, undeterred by his glare.

His pout is cute. I smiled at the thought before I could stop myself, before straightening my face out. No, Sookie, that's bad. Pouts aren't cute, they're pathetic. Eric is way too old to pout.

It became harder to stifle my grin as Eric slowly reached out and switched out glasses, pushing the curvy glass closer to me. I thought I saw his lips twitch in amusement, before deciding to ignore it. "Who next?" I asked primly.

"The bartender," Pam said instantly.

I exhaled, directing my focus inside the bar. I could see the bartender, though not clearly, through the slightly grimy window behind Eric. He was going over drink orders, his mind impressively keeping up with the ingredients and steps, but strangely…my forehead creased as I heard, looping in his brain, one single bit of a song.

"Pam," I sighed in exasperation, "Did you glamour him?"

A shit-eating grin was instantly plastered on her face, and I knew I had my answer. "What do you hear, dear Sookie?"

"He's trying to keep up with bar orders, but he can't stop hearing the chorus of All Star by Smash Mouth! What the hell, Pam?!" She started guffawing in response, and I couldn't help but to start laughing, too. Godric, bless his heart, looked confused; he had probably never seen the movie Shrek, and I doubted he listened to Smash Mouth recreationally. Who could blame him, really?

In the midst of my laughing fit, my gaze was drawn to Eric once again, a strange expression plastered across his features. As much as I didn't want to analyze it, I could have sworn it was longing, etched across the sharp planes of his face.

As soon as I stepped from my Corvette, I had told Pamela and Godric about my inadvertent bond. I also warned them—my willful Child especially—to keep their comments to themselves.

"It's none of your business," I all but snarled, "A simple mistake that will fade on its own." I had felt Pam's indignation at my confession, her fury that I had been so careless. Godric had been radiating curiosity, opening our bond slightly—which he rarely did—and letting his inquisitiveness seep through.

I had ignored it.

I had even ignored Sookie's spiteful comments, absorbing the verbal punches, knowing I deserved her wrath, regretting each gruff word I spewed at her as soon as I spoke them. I felt like a fucking fool, as if I had done nothing but make mistakes with Sookie.

Now, having watched her excitement as she explained the difference in the couple's thoughts—feeling her sheer happiness as she was finally, finally able to speak about her telepathy without judgement—and seeing her laugh throatily with Pam, even at my expense, I found myself wishing I'd never met her in the first place. At least not in the way I had. I cursed my own greed, my desire to have a mind-reader at my beck and call, even as I praised it. Without my blind avarice, I never would have met my Sookie. One fucking week and she had ripped me apart without even knowing it. Watching her giggle and get lost in conversation with Pam stirred both jealousy and pleasure deep in my soul.

I wanted that, I wanted her to feel that happiness with me. I wanted Sookie to laugh openly with me, to be the reason she smiled so beatifically. There was a deep-seated ache to be close to her, in all ways, sharing everything I have and everything I am. To receive all of her in return.

To be hers, as I wanted her to be mine.

She spurned you, a voice growled savagely inside of me. She didn't want you. You are nothing to her. She regrets letting you rut against her, as if you were a bitch in heat.

Despair and longing were wrapping around the contentment Sookie wrought, choking me like thick, be-thorned vines. She will never be so open with me.

As the women calmed down, Pamela threw one challenge after another at Sookie. It was impressive, really, the control Sookie had over her own gift. There was very little precedent to judge her ability against, but I was still in awe of her power. My Sookie was a force to be reckoned with, I thought fondly to myself.

No, you fucking idiot, not My Sookie. She is not yours, the voice screamed again. Godric seemed to sense my internal struggle, his head tilting towards me as Sookie was detailing the thoughts of a woman across the street—She wanted a rebound, having experienced her first real heartbreak. She was hunting for a man.

"What is it, my Son?" He asked softly, his lips barely moving. I sighed, accepting the comfort of my Maker stepping into the role of Father, ready to guide his Son through trial and tribulation.

"Sookie," I whispered back, keeping my mouth as still as Godric's, all the better to keep our conversation private from the woman herself. "She regrets last night. I felt it, her remorse and anxiety. She doesn't know about the Bond, she regrets giving herself over to me—"

"Eric," He interrupted gently, warmth and serenity radiating into me through him, "Did you tell Sookie of the bond?" I shook my head minutely, watching as Sookie concentrated on counting the number of people seated at the second booth inside the pub.

Impressive, I thought absently.

"Did you talk to her about any of this?" Another small shake of my head. Godric sighed. "My Son, you are my proudest achievement, but you are being exceptionally obtuse. She is a human girl. If Hollywood is to be believed, they require assurances and affirmation, particularly in the budding of new relationships. I would think, in your special circumstances, this would be even more true."

"Sookie is no normal woman," I growled back, "She has too much fire and spirit to need such things. She is strong, much stronger than the women who have to be told time and again they're wanted."

Godric's eyebrows rose infinitesimally. "Much like yourself, yes? You are much too strong to need assurance that she wants you, too." I glowered back, unwilling to concede his point. "Perhaps, my Son, you just need to talk. Tell her of the Bond, the implications, and what happens next. Be up front with her. And don't close her off. That will be the surest way to turn her affection away from you."

I turned away from my Maker, furrowing my brow as I thought. I had sacrificed plenty of my dignity tonight, I thought, showing up eager and doe-eyed at the safehouse, only for Sookie to spurn me.

Then again…

Had she, really? As I recalled the few minutes we spent in the house, I became aware that very few words had actually been said. Neither of us had broached the subject. I had felt her emotions, felt how tightly wound she had been; but she had no way of knowing how I was feeling. My face had been kept impassive, but perhaps all she saw was indifference? Sookie had no way of knowing I was tense, too, that I had been nervous.

Fuck, I hated admitting that. I put a significant amount of effort into never coming across as anything but cool and confident. Weaknesses of any kind could get a Vampire killed, so indifferent arrogance was always safe. It had always been my go-to, though now…perhaps it was the root of our problems tonight.

Maybe Godric was right.

My Sookie and I needed to talk.