A/N: Charlaine Harris owns her characters and sets the grand design for the Sookieverse.

We are just time-travelers, popping in and out as the mood strikes.

Such a tame lemon doth unfold, should I even warn of it?

This chapter is an EPOV. He wants certain events to happen, but he will have to prevail through persuasion. (Isn't that the story of his undead existence as well?)

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Woodside c. 1979, Graduation, Part IV

P1.

He stretched out his full length, enjoying the feathery feel of the satin sheets against his bare skin. He and Selah had never spent money on the amenities Sven assumed were the very necessities of life, not luxuries. His brother was very different in many ways. Many interesting ways, as he thought about some of the 'toys' Sven kept locked in a cabinet in his den and got out for their use, but only when Sookie asked, he'd noticed.

He'd spent the morning alone in their bed, reading bits of Hunter S. Thomson's recently published 'Gonzo Papers: The Great Shark Hunt' during breaks in the rematch between the Giants and their mortal enemies the Dodgers, marveling all the while that he felt no urge to get off, content to keep his hands on the book or fingering the multitude of buttons on the latest remote control device. It had been a blissful morning, but after a couple of hours of relative inactivity, he was now contemplating taking a shower and going for a run.

He was still astonished sometimes at the way events of the last three months had unfolded. Some days, he himself felt as if he was living his very own episode of 'Night Gallery, dropped into a parallel universe where everything looked the same, but nothing was quite as it should be.

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The Zion trip had started out as both a good idea and seemingly generous gesture by his brother. Unfortunately, the reality had been mostly an exercise in frustration. Sookie was vocal in her dislike of the rigors of camping and sleeping on the ground, albeit in a sleeping bag sealed in a tent. Sven had unexpectedly turned into a hiking-fiend on the first day, insisting Sookie push herself hard to keep up with him. She was the novice in their midst who preferred four inch heels to waffle-stompers and wasn't hesitant about telling him how she felt. The weather had been perfect, the skies an amazing blue, and the trails mostly empty. All rare conditions lost on Sookie, who was ready to call it quits within a mile or two of each new trailhead, even the ones marked 'easy'. She kept begging Eric "Take me back to camp, please?"

"You hate the campsite. At least out here you get to see more than the public toilets and picnic tables."

"Please, Eric, let's just go back."

He'd try to tease her out of her misery, but he never gave in and Sven just ignored her pleas, so her only choice was 'onward', much to her chagrin. His joy in the snaking streams, sharply contrasted rock strata, names for which resounded like a sacred drumbeat in his head (Entrada, Navajo, Kayenta, Wingate, Chinle, Moenkopi), and the dry air, infused with the pitch scents billowing from the Pinyon pine and Utah juniper, evaporated whenever he caught sight of her unhappy face. His true love was limping through her first western adventure in the famous national park, her suffering palpable, if wildly exaggerated.

She wasn't a total failure as she'd managed to keep up provided they took a lot of 'viewing' breaks. It was a compromise which had been fine by him, if not with Sven. The grand escarpments, visible once they'd climbed above the riparian vegetation found in the Canyon bottom, were like old friends, embedded in some of his earliest memories of the wilderness. He'd been counting on showing Sookie the Narrows Trail along the Virgin River. Unfortunately, the early snowmelt had made it an unacceptable hardship that distracted from the experience of squeezing through the openings in the rock walls.

Consequently, the first few days weren't the romantic get-away he'd envisioned on the long drive out to the parent's lodge. And the argument with Ander hadn't been on his short list of 'must-do's' for this unusual trip. All-in-all, he'd been pining for some wilderness after the cancellation of his return to Hohn. As he tried to block out her moaning, not the variety he liked, he'd even had a fleeting traitorous thought or two, comparing Sookie's daily complaints to Selah's clear enjoyment of their no-frills trips over the glacier ice. He'd quickly reminded himself there was no point in going there. Selah was history and staying that way.

Still, he was disappointed Sookie wasn't having fun. The outdoors defined him. He embraced what he liked to think of as his Scandinavian ancestry. He'd often envisioned himself as a returned soul, a former raider, or a crewman on a wooden ship, Thor and Freya worshipped as his gods, his fantasies sometimes weaving him into daily village life, a farmer pressed into service by the village leaders to hoist a heavy sword and defend their lands from invaders. That odd connection he'd felt had been part of the appeal of Iceland for him; now he could see himself living there permanently. Not going to happen if he was a co-husband with Sven. Funny, he'd never considered himself to be a geographic undesirable when it came to relationships, but he'd never found himself involved, eventually 'wedded' maybe, to two such urban animals, Sookie more so than Sven.

After two days of feminine pouting, he'd decided to work on toughening her up. He'd not hang back anymore. He'd lead on the trail instead of watching Sven's butt disappear over the next rise. So, he'd stopped being the good guy and let Sven take a turn at the babysitting. But he still felt guilty about it.

The nights back at camp were disturbing as well. In his head, he knew he'd have to share the tent space with his brother. But the recent months spent back in Sookie's presence, bereft of touch and taste of her, had whetted an appetite in him that the last few days couldn't begin to touch. He was getting off as soon as Sven would let him, then he'd have to wait again, dick in hand, slowly stroking, watching, while Sven took a turn. It was great for Sookie, he'd guessed, but he was ready to go two-to-three times a night and she just didn't want both of them even half of that. He couldn't help the size he'd been given and had never once thought of it as an impediment; it had been a god-given attribute and treated as such by the opposite sex, until now.

He always got off on oral with her, but by round two with him, she just wasn't that excited. Plus, she'd been mad after the first day, and she'd stayed grumpy. Sex with such a woman was tricky. He expected an 'accidental' bite and a good set of teeth marks any day now. He only hoped it would not be on his….

In sum, it wasn't going that well. Plus the shaving was a bitch. Without it, she wouldn't touch him, claiming his skin felt like sandpaper. He'd thought about various forms of revenge for Sven pushing him into it, but had settled on shoving a big pile of his dirty running clothes in the Porsche and parking the car in the sun. It would take days to air it out. He'd just have to swipe the keys from his brother after they returned.

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Eric remembered what he'd done instead when they'd returned, early, from that trip. He still chuckled when he thought of Sven's face. It had been worth it. And the smell was much worse that his soiled sweats.

He decided to skip the run, but showered and finding his clean shorts were downstairs in the laundry, dressed in a pair of Sven's brown golf shorts and a clean white T before heading down to the den. After unlocking the cabinet, and wondering again 'who was Sven protecting with the lock? Joran?', he poked around the sex toys they'd been using and selected the black leather wrapped wooden paddle for him and some beads for the night's events. He would not wait for her to ask. He was going to lock the doors and insist he go first tonight.

Killing time while waiting for Sookie and his sister to return from shopping, he settled down with the paper to scan the movie section. He found the theatre he wanted and the movie he'd been waiting eagerly to see, Alien. He wanted all five of them to go to the movies together tonight. Then they'd come back, have pizza, and retire to their rooms, where he and Sven would take turns, once again. It was the definition of an almost perfect night, in his opinion.

At the sound of Sookie's car returning, he hustled out to help the girls into the house with their loot. Tara had arrived late last night from LA. Fatigue from her late-stage pregnancy had zapped her usually raucous behavior and she was uncharacteristically quiet, but this morning she'd recovered enough to be excited about the shopping at Union Square.

Exiting the car, Tara now greeted him without a noticeable show of enthusiasm. Although he knew he had never been the favorite brother like Sven, he hoped that her slightly sour mood was only temporary. Secretly he was pleased that the evidence of her pregnancy would be highly visible and a hot topic of conversation among the females on this trip. His knew the success of his private agenda for his Lover's immediate future would be bolstered by their excitement over the coming addition to his clan.

He watched as Tara walked down the hall for a nap with the soda Sookie had prepared for her, and waited for the sound of her door closing. He then swept Sookie into his arms and without apparent effort, carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, dropping her on the sheets he had mussed as he waited for her return.

She was always thrilled when he did something Rhett-like for her and this definitely qualified. He wanted to be close to her, and began removing her shoes, but as she didn't wait for him, impatiently stripping off her own clothing, he re-focused his efforts on his zipper, which was sticking. He paused as he thought back to when they'd last had time for private sex. It had been longer than a month, he realized, and last night waiting for Tara's plane at the airport had just emphasized how much he missed it. The intended pressing together of their naked flesh now would be intoxicating. Wait, was the damn zipper broken? He'd given up on the shaving as soon as he returned from Zion, and simply waited out the grow-out period. It hadn't taken long; he seemed to be blessed with an abundance of testosterone if hair growth rates were any indication. Consequently, there was more than one reason he wasn't very interested in jerking too hard on the faulty zipper just yet. He struggled on.

After Sookie took pity on him, fixing the zipper snafu, they were free to pursue a leisurely uninterrupted exploration of each other, he enjoying the rare luxury of privately adding to his knowledge of what most excited her. He'd had to cut it short, though, reluctantly pulling off her eager body to tell her about his idea. She'd groaned at his loss, fingers anchored in his tousled locks to keep him close. He knew she had a bit of a fetish about his long hair, which he kept clean and brushed for her benefit. Otherwise, he wouldn't give a shit. Probably shave his head.

"Lover, everyone from our family will be here tomorrow and Monday for your graduation. Are you still disappointed no one is coming in from Missouri? "

Sookie and her mother Pam had had a long-overdue call a few months ago about Pam's interference in their early relationship. It had veered off into a heated exchange, in spite of Sookie's stated intent to avoid an argument. Consequently, she and Pam weren't speaking. Meanwhile, her brother and dad were so absent from her life as to be no loss, in his opinion.

"Nope. I'll be happy to see Celia and your mom again. And having Joran around with Camilla will leaven the adult atmosphere." Joran had started seeing a veterinarian he'd met when he'd been taking care of Sven's dogs during their trip. She was a few years older than Joran and Eric noticed he often deferred to her mildly proffered suggestions. She was also incredibly sexy, with curly coal-black hair that cascaded over her shoulders and deep-set navy eyes in a heart-shaped face. Her obvious physical attributes paired with a long lean body that shouted exercise freak and was usually clad in short shorts and cropped tops when she was out of the lab coat made him glad he felt married even if he had no paper to prove it. Thus, Joran was left in peace to play with his woman without fear of any interference by his usually mischievous older brothers.

He was quiet for too long as he reviewed both Joran's latest circumstances and how he wanted to phrase his response. She broke into his thoughts.

"So, Lover-mine, what is your point in raising the obvious?" she asked.

He gave her a crooked grin. "Let's make it official while they are here."

"What isn't official? Isn't that your eager little friend pressed into my hip, spinning his sticky little web to ensnare my lady parts? Seems pretty official to me."

"Little?! Since when? Ah, Sookie,Þú ert minn ást." He'd been saying that a lot lately, while his hand moved to cover her, possessive as hell, as he lowered his lips over hers. He was ready to capture her tongue with his while he thoroughly planted his team's flag in those delectable parts.

"And that would mean precisely 'what', in English, my friend?" She squeezed his narrow waist, considerate of his ticklish ribs.

He hesitated, distracted as his fingers were parting her, his thumb now caressing her nub, she was beginning to respond to his touch.

"Oh, Sookie. You know what it means, don't you?" He tried to avoid the mild accusation on her face; he wasn't exactly a coward and didn't deserve that look, in his opinion.

Sookie's expression swiftly changed to barely concealed merriment. "Do you? Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?" What?

She was affecting disinterest in what his hand was doing, but he could tell that her breathing had sharpened and her face was flushed a delicate pink. He was starting to get that familiar burn that let him know he was going to have to move in between her legs or risk being held prisoner until he satisfied his dick's urgent demands for relief.

The article in question had wormed his way around the soft skin of her hip and begun testing the waters leaking from her center, dipping his head here and there as the opportunity presented. Eric was feeling it, and wished he wasn't. It was rare, but this was one of those times he wanted to talk, not screw. Meanwhile, the fellows in the trenches were readying for a run up the hill, bayonets in hand, and he was helpless against their bloodlust if he didn't get a grip, rightnow.

"You know how you need a job?"

That little fact was an instant mood-killer. "No? I'd forgotten."

He hadn't expected the depth of sadness in her response. He hoped what he was proposing would be greeted with excitement.

"Drop it for a moment." He swallowed, choking down a sudden, unexplained lump in his throat. "What if you didn't get one immediately after graduation?"

"And do what while I waited?" She was impatient with this line of questioning. He was going to lose his nerve if he didn't hurry.

"You could stay home and raise our son for a few years." He'd closed his eyes, and thus missed her non-verbal reaction. After a brief pause, she spoke.

"We don't have a son. Didn't you notice? Unless you mean Joran? FYI, Celia might object to your line of reasoning."

At the mention of Joran's name, his eyes had snapped open. Thus, he was watching her eyes, and though her words were tough and her delivery worthy of his new hero Mad Max, he caught a glimmer of another emotion he was sure she was hiding.

"We could." He should be trying for a little more certainty if he wanted her to agree.

"I'm aware of the biological probabilities." Ok, he'd return to safer ground with his original plan.

"I know what I'm about to say sounds last minute, but I had to wait to sign off on my final papers last week, right?"

Clearly confused by the change in subject, Sookie waited for him to continue.

"You are my love." He paused, loving the sparkle in her eyes. "Will you be wife to me? Join with me? Have my children?" He was starting to feel woozy. It wasn't everyday that he did this sort of thing. He might have done it once, but this felt like the first time to him and he spoke from his heart. It was a lucky break he was already horizontal.

He had her full attention now; she was drinking him in with her eyes. He wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon locked into her stare. When she spoke, her words produced a melody that at that moment was sweeter than the nectar of the honeysuckle blooms she so favored. "What are you asking of me, dearest love?"

"To agree to be in my bed, be my mate, bear my children, stay with me. Just for… that… just for love." Gathering her sweet, yielding body to him, he sunk his face into the curve of her neck, as her scent filled his nostrils, his mouth, stuffing his ears. He was no longer sipping bits of his Sookie; he was guzzling, her essence soaking the back of his throat as he felt a roaring in his head and knew it was a moment he would never forget, every detail a glorious facet he could disassemble and fondle before returning it to its original setting.

"Yes, baby, yes." She had replied, whispering softly in his ear, her legs working outside of his hips to wrap around his butt, her center pushing upward against his straining erection. Oh shit, felt so good…. It was going to be impossible to continue with his proposal if she didn't stop. He tried to push back from her body, but the thought "Too late" ricocheted around his head before he groaned his pleasure and focused on satisfying his woman with the considerable tool at his disposal.

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Later, under the sheets, warm bodies molded against one another, he wanted some music to soften the mood. He settled for the radio, the jazz station Sven preferred creating a soothing buzz in the background, as Van Morrison's 'Into the Mystic' drifted out of the expensive Bose speakers Sven had installed. He ignored the pull of the music on him, still intent on finishing the conversation.

"My heart's desire, you have agreed to accept me as your partner, yes?" She nodded. "With everyone present Monday night, it would be a good time to announce it."

Her voice groggy, she stopped him with a hand over his mouth. "I'll do anything you wish, you know. And just for the record, I love you, too, Eric."

It was difficult to not ask the question that came naturally, "More than Sven?", but somehow he did. Her hand over his mouth helped.

He shook his head, freeing his face from her restraint. "I'd like a ceremony to show what we mean to each other. I want some elements in it from the culture in which I've spent so much of the last five years of my life. We, umm, I attended a lot of weddings in Hohn and since we cannot do this there, we'll bring some of that atmosphere here."

"Like what? Any odd costume I'd have to wear? So not into that, you know. Hey, and I've lost seven pounds since we returned from Zion."

"It is important to me." Spoken gravely.

"Important to you Eric, is paramount to me." Delivered in the soft voice he loved, her hand lightly dusting over his sensitive golden hairs, tweaking smaller curls that triggered a response he shouldn't be feeling after what they'd just done. He picked up her delicate fingers and removed her hand from him, placing it on her own belly, but a rogue impulse directed his teeth to seek out her plump breast, ready to bite. The fullness of her, her budlike nipples tipped with a darker pink as her breasts presented to him was an ongoing temptation he could never resist. He nibbled on her flesh, enjoying her squeals although he worried they were loud enough to wake Tara. Protesting the teeth, she smacked him hard on the ass. It was what he often craved from her and he yet again had to struggle to rein it in, wanting to finish the discussion before he lost his focus a second time. Her hand moving to cup his balls was a major diversion. But he tried, once more.

"Would you consider delaying your career for me? You could always pick it up in a few years. Maybe you could work part-time in Sven's offices after the baby is weaned until you are ready to begin applying again for jobs?"

Her voice, all sex and promises earlier, was suddenly very serious. "Has Sven put you up to this? Throw me a bone since no one has offered me a position yet?" Not quite true; she had been offered an intro marketing job with a smaller firm, but then she had decided she wanted a position as a junior analyst and turned down the offer. When the management consulting firms had recruited at Stanford, she had interviewed with Boston Consulting, Booz Allen, and McKinsey. She had not heard back from them yet but still held out hope.

"I'm offering this, Sookie. I want this." He was distracted by her reaction. Wasn't this the one thing he could give her that Sven could not?

"Why now? Why not in a few years, after I've established some credentials?"

Eric sat up, his mood dampened by her questioning. In his defense, he'd thought it was a great idea. Plus, it was a surefire way of establishing his role in the three-way they had going. He'd wed her, only unofficially though, and then she'd get pregnant. Sven might be the spouse on paper, but he would be the one with the claim on her heart. Besides, who knew when Sven might blow up and decide to take a male lover again? He'd done it in the past. Was he really capable of changing his nature now?

Okay, he admitted to himself he was feeling a little bent-out-of-shape by her skepticism. He resolved to try to reason out with her the easy part and table the baby discussion.

"Listen, Tara will be getting up soon. I don't want to leave her sitting alone downstairs until someone else gets home. We can talk about this subject later. Are we on for Monday night? There's a colleague of mine in the history department who's agreed to direct the proceedings for accuracy with some modern concessions, of course. Mostly, we would just pledge ourselves to one another in front of witnesses. That's all."

"And do exactly what? Is Sven to be part of our ceremony? I'm afraid he'd be hurt if he wasn't." Her eyes were avoiding him, focused on the windows on the West wall of their room which looked down on the stone paths and patio in the back of the house. Was she subconsciously indicating she wished to flee from him now? She had to know her lukewarm reaction would not please him.

He thought back to when they'd learned the truth from Sven. It had been a turning point in his relationship with the two of them.

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It had been the last day of the abbreviated trip. They'd been sitting in the tent, the harsh desert rain an unwelcome interruption of their plans. Sookie wasn't unhappy about it, though. She had refused to leave the soaked cloth enclosure, and both Sven and Eric were on the brink of admitting defeat, mentally preparing to break camp and head home early. Desert storms never lasted very long, but they were both completely out of patience and tired of attempting to cajole their woman into preparing for another hike later in the day. Sven made the remark there would be plenty to do back in the City when they returned. They could avoid the Salt Lake leg and just drive on through to Woodside. Sookie had looked guilty when Eric let her know the trip was likely over, but she'd made no protest.

When she spoke, the sound of the rain indicating the storm was abating, she surprised both of them.

"This hasn't gone as I expected, you two. I was hoping we'd engage in a lot of sharing and instead we wore ourselves out with physical activities. We didn't talk on the way out, as Sven promised. He sabotaged us with the Walkmans, didn't you?"

Sven had just nodded. Eric was surprised by Sookie's handling of his brother. He'd never seen Sven let anyone speak to him in that tone of voice.

She was quiet for a few minutes, then shook her head and said, calmly and with confidence. "I have a lot of questions for both of you. Who wants to go first? This hasn't been the trip of my dreams and I'm ready for some answers after what I have put up with so far."

When there were no volunteers, she'd started with him. "Let's cut to the chase and begin with Eric, Bachelor Number One. Why didn't you ever call me after you got back home if you were so sick about losing me? What was the reason? It didn't make sense then and it doesn't make sense now, in light of where we are today."

The tent, uncomfortably close with all three of them sitting upright on camp chairs, shrunk ever further. He fingered his bowie knife, seeing himself cutting a slit in the tent wall through which he could escape. That scene was interrupted when Sven caught his movement and lightning-quick grabbed his wrist. "Yes, little brother, ease my wife's pain and tell her the truth." Eric scowled at him.

"No secret, Sookie. I just thought you were finished with me." He tried to cover his fantasy of a quick departure by keeping his mask firmly in place.

Since both of them were obviously waiting for him to continue, he did. "I didn't think it was a good idea to pursue you if you didn't want me." Still lame.

"So, you decided to be miserable for years rather than pick up the phone, call a long-distance Bell operator, and risk another rejection? Makes perfectly good sense to me." Sven wasn't buying it. Yeah, reasonable as he'd known the extent of Eric's misery in the months before he transferred to N.A.U.

"In my defense, I did call Pam's house that fall." Admitting it wasn't that hard, he found.

"No. You couldn't have?! Surely my mom would have told me…" Sookie's voice trailed-off, the recent knowledge of her betrayal by her mom brought back by fresh evidence of her mom's desire to keep Eric out of her life so long ago.

"Wait, don't blame Pam." He stopped and looked at her now. "I hung up before anyone could answer the phone." He saw disbelief wash over her features and jumped in again.

"I was embarrassed by my reaction to that night." He faltered, but took in a lungful of air and continued. "You didn't know about my family, about our parents. It would have shocked you, and you would not have wanted anything to do with me. You were so traditional, with a strait-laced Midwestern background, a Christian, two parents, one older brother, and a vacation place on a lake……your family and their friends were so not like anyone I knew." Here he hung his head. "I didn't believe you'd ever accept us or fit in, once you discovered how we lived. I guess I believed I was doing you a favor, saving you from the heartache of knowing me."

Neither Sookie nor Sven had cut into his little confessional, and now were waiting to see if he had more to add. He did, but couldn't continue. Sven jumped in for the assist.

"That makes sense, Eric. More sense that anything else you've said so far." He couldn't leave it at that, though. "But I don't know, is it everything? It doesn't feel like it. What you've said is the truth, but you are not telling everything you know, are you?"

"It is the only truth that matters." He answered, honestly, but ready to drop it. "What about Bachelor Number Two, Sookie? Don't I already know your question?"

"Yes, BNT, what's up with the generous treatment for all of us?" Sven suddenly appeared to be studying the seaming pattern of the tent.

"What's the question, wife?" He affected an unconcerned attitude but now we both knew him too well. He appeared relaxed in his faded, but expensive jeans and tight fitting blue and white striped polo, his hair still held back in the braided style we'd all adopted for the trip. Unluckily for him, we both recognized the poker-face he used for work and was trying out on us.

And then, just as he expected, she developed a case of cold feet. He could tell by the change in her posture she was preparing to back-off, not wanting to push Sven into talking about whatever information he was shielding from them. He was tired of waiting, so he took lead.

"Agreeing to this arrangement for the three of us? That's the mystery no-one can understand. So unlike you. Is this because of Selah?"

Sven's reaction was one of confusion, not anger. He raised an eyebrow to Eric.

"If you'd stayed with her and not screwed around with that prostitute and been caught and outed by the San Jose Merc, she would have married you and I'd have found Sookie again, probably. We wouldn't be in this screwy situation."

The gasp from Porthos alerted Eric that this was the first time she was hearing this story. He instantly regretted that he'd been the one to tell it.

However, while the conversation was in peril of running off the rails, Sven was prepared to address the issue.

"It was so long ago, Sookie. I was paying a guy named Claude in the City, the Tenderloin actually, for some occasional amusement." Checking her face, and catching site of her unblinking gaze, he heard her one word question 'Prostitute?' He ceased the spiel and collected himself, then began again. "I've been meaning to tell you about it; but it just didn't seem important. You knew I was bi before we married. It was just another story from my past." His hands were clasped between his knees, twisting now.

In the silence that followed, we could hear the stirring of the other campers and realized the rain had finally stopped. Sven eagerly rose from his camp chair, and unzipping the front flap, cautiously stuck his head out of the sagging opening. He turned back around, saying, "Sookie, let's you and I start loading up the car while Eric tears down camp. We can be away from here in under an hour." He consulted his watch. "It will be after three a.m. when we arrive home, but we will have several days to recover."

Sookie clearly was torn. She wanted some answers from Sven, but she couldn't deny her stronger desire to return to the relative safety and luxury of her home turf. She nodded, then became a virtual dervish as she began gathering up items to load in the car, totally oblivious to the mud collecting on her boots and the bottoms of her white jeans. Her only comment was, "I'll expect more once we are back on the highway, Sven." If she'd expended some of the energy on the trail she was displaying in her eagerness to leave Zion, she might have enjoyed the trip more. Too late now. Having barely escaped the noose himself, Eric doubted Sven would make it out to the other side unscathed.

He was right.

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A/N: Chapter 22 continues some events in this chapter.

MariaTerese beta'd this chapter for me, then I gone crazed amdmadde changaes, although some were based on her excellent suggestions. I shudder to think of the errors I've re-introduced. Thanks for your patience and help, wonderful MT.

Partial lyrics for 'Into the Mystic', copyright held by Van Morrison.

'Hark, now hear the sailors cry, smell the sea and feel the sky, Let your soul and spirit fly, into the mystic.'

'I want to rock your gypsy soul, just like back in the days of old; and together we will float, into the mystic.'