A/N: Hi all. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter done and good enough that I was willing to share it with you. The good news is that I think this chapter rocks. A huge thank you goes out to my beta, moxie mo, who worked her ninja beta skills and helps me clarify what I really wanted this chapter to say. She's a whiz at gchat and gave lots of time and attention to the chapter. Thank you so much. :)

I hope you love it, and either way, I hope you comment. I'd love to hear what you think. This is the longest chapter yet, just fyi. And I hope you'll be happy to know that the next chapter is well on its way.

Disclaimer: Dr. Gumby and Bonnie are mine. The rest belong to Charlaine Harris, who is in the doghouse with me for DITF. But that's a whole other discussion.

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Last time on Healing Blood:

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My eyes flicked back to the little scrap of fabric shoved under the couch. I couldn't believe it. I'd just delivered those panties a day ago!

I looked back at her, ready to lay into her, ready to be drained if that were the master's wish. Maybe then he'd finally turn me and keep me with him forever.

Sookie's loud cackling interrupted my train of thought and I looked to see her folded over in hysterics. I wanted to curse at her. I wanted to tell her all she was to the master was a fuck and a feed, a pet. But out of respect to my master, I refrained.

When she calmed herself from her hyena laughter, she stepped forward just a little and wiped the tears from her eyes. She placed one hand on my chest and patted it condescendingly. I huffed. She probably didn't even know the word.

"Don't... Don't worry, Bobby," she said through her chuckles. "There are lots more where those came from." She stepped a little closer, into my personal space and leveled her amused eyes at me.

"And I'm sure, when your master destroys the rest of them," she said, drawling the title sarcastically. Bitch thought she was so much better than the rest of us. "He'll send you off to fetch a few more."

And with that, she turned tail and flicked her wrist, and I found myself shut out, once again.

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Chapter 25:Three Little Words

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I felt like jogging. I felt like Rocky at the top of those stairs in Philadelphia. I wanted to hold my arms over my head and pump them. I wanted to slap my ass in Bobby's face so he could see what his master really wants. That's right, Bobby, I thought giddily. You'll always be shut out. And taking one of these photos won't change that. My muscles twitched like I had run a marathon. My heart beat hard in my temples. A laugh bubbled up from my chest like champagne. I felt light. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this... good. Away from Eric, anyway. I felt a hand on my back and that's when I realized that I was bouncing on the balls of my feet.

And that's when I realized I had just been on the porch. I bounced once, twice... My heels hit the floor.

"Oh." The thumping in my temples got louder. A breeze from that still-open window hit me and I swayed on my feet.

"Oh." I know. I was brilliant. I was trying to keep from blacking out. I closed my eyes to try to hold off the dizziness. I just got dark and swirly. I reached out blindly behind me, looking for the wall or the couch or... anything to steady me. Instead, I felt a hand on my forearm, another on my back. I sucked in a slow breath, fighting back the nausea that was making my tongue prickle.

I moved my feet backward automatically, feeling the pull from the hands on me, tugging. I'd just been giddy, hadn't I? Energized? Well, that went fast. I felt like I'd run a marathon again, but this time, I felt nauseated and exhausted and winded. And shaky.

"All right. That's enough excitement for today." The words drifted to me through the dark. Bonnie. Oh.

And then I didn't see anything but blackness.

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-V-V-

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My eyes fluttered opened and I squeezed them closed again. I opened them again. Nope. Still there. All five of him. Five smoldering, muscled, smooth and all-male Vikings staring back at me. Some shower-wet, others bed-ready, Bonnie must have arranged all my Eric photos in a little cluster under the calendar. I smiled despite myself as my temperature soared. A wet heat broke between my legs and if I rubbed them together... well, I'm only human. And a woman. Oh yes. And I felt more like a woman just looking at all those pictures of my man.

Or... well, shit.

Speaking of which... I looked around and found that Bonnie had put the little manila envelope on my bedside table. I sat up, feeling my heart beat a little faster. I licked my lips and slid my finger into the little opening. What I pulled out made the wet heat between my legs practically vibrate with happiness. My cheeks felt so hot I thought I might be able to cook an egg on them.

There he was, in all his glory, the tight ropes of his arm muscles raised over his head, hands hanging casually over the top of the shower door frame, his eyes bearing down on me, his fangs just bared. And the rest of him... really, really bare. All of him. And water beaded up on his chest hair and the hair that led south, running in little rivulets in the little crease between his pecs.

I thought about Bobby standing by the side with a spray bottle of water. I wondered if Eric would let me do that for him next year... if we were still together in a year.

I didn't want to think about that right now. Not when I wanted to lick that water off his nipple. Not when my mouth remembered what it felt like to lick up his smooth, firm skin, to bite his collarbone, and taste shower water on his skin.

Oh...

I closed my eyes and pressed the photo to my face, wishing I had something more substantial than this 4x6 to keep me company. I spread out and felt that dull ache again. My breath caught. God, Eric was so... Just so much. And before I could stop myself, I found myself wondering if I'd be capable of keeping him.

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-V-V-

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I had just settled my new picture of Eric among my growing assortment of soft-core vamp porn when my back stiffened. I wanted to reach over and toss a blanket over all of it. I wanted to hide under the covers. Oh God. Like I needed people thinking I'd created a little altar to my vampire.

"My dear Miss Stackhouse," said the soft, sweet voice belonging to the staticky brain behind me. "Things are going well for you, are they?"

Dammit, I refuse to cower in my own bedroom. Maybe outside, but not here. Not today. I threw my shoulders back and slapped my nervous smile on my face and turned around.

"Well hey there, Dr. Gu-uh, I mean, Dr. Eugenides," I said, my tone a little high for my own comfort, my smile straining my cheeks. "I didn't realize it was four already. I swear I don't know where the day goes."

Shut up, Sookie. Shut up shut up shut up.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, Dr. Gumby was assessing my little Eric shrine. I refused to hide my eyes or dip my chin. He was in my home and if he didn't like it, he could just leave. I crossed my arms over my chest, expecting... I don't know what. My skin prickled with nerves.

Instead, I settled on studying what the demon therapist was wearing this fine day. He was standing in the middle of my bedroom, leaning on the longest silver-tipped walking stick. Heck, I hadn't seen any kind of walking stick since Sid Matt Lancaster walked into the bar after presenting a case in Shreveport. He'd gotten himself dressed special. No short shirtsleeves for him that day. I found myself wondering if Dr. Gumby even owned any short-sleeve shirts. By the way his brow was already beading with sweat, I figured he must. His house must be positively arctic. In his long, grey suit, a little purple paisley pocket square sticking out from his blazer, he looked far too dapper for this room. Hell, for the whole of Bon Temps.

By the time I got to Dr. Gumby's eyes, he wasn't looking at the photos anymore. He was looking at me softly, a small, sweet smile on his face. His eyes were so warm I couldn't help but relax my back just a little.

"Ah my dear Miss Stackhouse," he said, his tone soft and buttery. I surprised myself by thinking it didn't sound at all faked. "It has been quite an eventful few days for you, has it not?"

I looked at him, confused. And then I turned to look out the window and closed my eyes. I swayed a little on my feet as everything came back in a rush: The hammering, the light-tighting people, Bill. Oh Lord, I hoped Eric hadn't done anything to Bill. I saw that look Eric shot him. The recorder, Patsy, Bubba, Eric leaving... Eric coming home. Eric coming home. My mind blanked, remembering how he looked at me when he barged right back in like he owned the place, like he... belonged here. With me. I refused to cry. But I couldn't stop myself from blushing. And then today: The meditation. The window. Bobby. The porch. I'd stepped on the porch. I smiled, this time a real smile, remembering what it felt like to step outside for the first time in months, to feel fresh air on my face.

Sweet Jesus, that was just three days! I sagged and the mattress caught my weight. No wonder I was exhausted.

I knew I should offer Dr. Gumby a little something to drink, but I retreated to bed instead.

I heard a rustling to the side, and glanced to see Dr. Gumby had curled himself into the little chair the corner. The wood framing groaned a little under his weight.

Well, now or never. I gave one last glance at the wall o' Erics, and pulled the quilt up over my hips, bracing myself for whatever Dr. Gumby planned to dredge up today.

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-V-V-

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"So tell me, Miss Stackhouse, how are you? Last we spoke you were quite distressed by the construction in the house."

"I went outside today," I blurted, excited to see he reaction.

I wasn't disappointed. His normally impassive face quirked in a smile and his eyes glittered. He grinned closed-mouthed at me.

"Well, that is excellent news, Miss Stackhouse! Do tell me, what made the difference for you? What allowed you to make that leap?"

I sat up straight and it all came out in a rush. I told him all about how helpful the CD had been, about Bonnie's hand on my back, about the crack in the window and then Bobby's appearance.

"... And before I knew it, I was standing outside, taunting Bobby." I smiled, remembering how red he'd turned, and my fingers glided along the silky edge of the blanket. I smiled genuinely. It felt good to be able to tell someone all this stuff without worrying about them going off the handle. I lowered my voice conspiratorially, even though I knew no one else could hear us. Bonnie'd left after bringing me a sandwich. "He's got a crush on Eric, you know. He was there-" I pointed at the calendar on the wall. "-when Eric had that photo taken. He hates me... but not just because he's jealous. He hates me because he thinks I don't fall all over Eric enough like some fangbanger." I rolled my eyes. "And he stole a picture of Eric. I could get rid of him, but I don't want to be responsible for him getting fired or, worse."

I drew myself up tall, thinking how proud I was of the restraint I had around Bobby, even after all he'd thought of me in his head. So I was shocked with the long, tall doc's next words.

"It is very generous of you to not, as you say, get rid of this Bobby. Tell me, do you feel that responsible for everyone with whom you come into contact?"

His mouth was set in a relaxed smile, his eyebrows slightly raised as if he couldn't wait to hear my response. Trouble was, I didn't have one. Not right away, anyway. Responsible?

"What? No... I mean, I hate Bobby and all... he's an asshole-pardon my French. But I couldn't live with myself if something I said caused his death. These vamps... they've got a hair trigger when it comes to anger. You of all people should know that."

I thought back to how Eric had come storming into our couple's counseling session, sword sharpened and at the read. Then my mind ran and I didn't like the alleys it was heading down. I thought of Longshadow and the missing money—how quick he lunged at me. I swallowed hard. I thought… Oh Lord… I didn't want it, but the memory of Uncle Bartlett's death the day after I'd revealed that particular bit of my history to Bill came flooding back anyway. I'd never tell Eric if I could get away with it.

"That is very noble of you, Miss Stackhouse."

"Not really," I muttered without thinking.

He raised his eyebrows in question. I shrugged.

The silence grew longer and I got more irritated. What did he want me to say? Just because I haven't used my little disability to turn into a monster doesn't make me noble? That's how I felt. I let the silence drag on."Is it not noble to put another's life above your own comfort?" He paused and looked at me and I almost flinched from the look of pity in his eyes. "You seem very uncomfortable. To carry that weight of all those lives on your shoulders must be quite heavy indeed."

The pressure in my jaw liked to have split it, I was grinding my teeth so hard. I looked out the window and pulled my arms tight around my ribs. I was tired of this line of questioning. I was tired of having to explain myself. I was just… tired.

I rubbed my forehead hard between my fingers. "You grow up hearing who's cheating on who, who's dying of cancer and who thinks your boobs are fake and you learn to get tight-lipped real quick. There's no nobility to it."

"Ah," he said softly, his eyes growing gentle. "What might happen if you didn't keep the secrets, Miss Stackhouse?"

I almost laughed in disgust. "Look. You don't get it, all right? It's not like I want to know this stuff. But for the longest time I couldn't keep it out. I learned the hard way that what people think is private. I have to have… rules."

The rules. I'd come up with them after one too many times of people calling me Crazy Sookie when I answered their thoughts instead of their words. It was second nature to me now. I rarely thought about it, except when big, shiny demon therapists who looked like clay toys brought it up. I shot him the stink-eye. For the longest time, I only had one rule: Keep the secrets of every loud-mouthed brain I came across. Don't let on that you've heard it. Smile big.

Then I'd met the vamps and the supes and the rules grew: Don't tell Eric about Bobby or Uncle Bartlett or Hunter-and certainly don't tell Eric that I'd read a vamp mind or two, including his. Keep Niall in the dark about Eric and vice versa. My head hurt under the pressure of keeping all these confidences.

"And vampires are secretive by nature," the doc said, slanting his head to the side like he was sliding a piece of a puzzle into place. I rolled my eyes, hating it. Whatever he was seeing wasn't good. "More secrets to keep."

Now I did laugh. That was one of the big rules: Don't press too hard on the vamps in my life to tell me anything. They weren't going to do it anyway and maybe I didn't want to know. I looked down. I sure didn't want to know what Eric thought… of me. Of this. I looked around the room.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that, after a lifetime of keeping secrets, I drew men who had a boatload of their own. I had one of those sickening moments of watching myself from the outside. Geez, it was like I was becoming one of them, without the daytime death: All secrets and subterfuge (today's word of the day).

I sniffed. I felt unaccountably lonely. I'd probably never have a life where I felt totally and completely comfortable with anyone else. I'd always have to keep my guard up. I'd thought vamps were the answer when I'd discovered I couldn't read their minds. Now I knew different. I shivered. I could never let my guard down. I could never relax, not really. I had to protect the people in my life from one another. From me. I swallowed. Try as I might, I couldn't raise my eyes to Dr. Gumby's.

I sniffed again and shook my head, trying to break free of all these morbid thoughts. All I'd ever wanted was someone I could tell my day to and cuddle up with at the end of it. I'd never really wanted to tell someone everything. I wondered why now that seemed so important.

I shook myself. For now, I had Eric, and he was a pretty good listener, when he wasn't horny. What did I have to complain about?

"Yes, my dear, it is quite all right to feel sadness. That is quite a lot of responsibility to take on."

He had no idea. He paused until I looked up at him. Lord, what he must be seeing. His eyes were gentle, betraying no judgment.

"May I ask you something?"

I was sure I wouldn't like whatever it was, but this was what I was here for after all. I shrugged.

"You believe yourself to be strong enough to stand up to the vampires in your life, yes?" I didn't know about that, but I knew I had to anyway. "And you stood up quite admirably to the fairies." I felt even less sure about that. I shrugged. I wasn't going to say anything about that. "You are quite strong." His head was cocked to the side slightly and his hands where cradling his fountain pen. He was studying me with that gentle look in his eye and something about it made me want to pull the covers up around me.

"Do you believe that Bobby and the others you meet are not as strong as you? Would they be unable to stand up to the vampires in your life if you let them take responsibility for their own decisions?"

I shook my head to the side slightly and furrowed my brows. What was he talking about? I didn't take responsibility for other people's decisions. I...

Huh.

"How old would you guess this Bobby is?"

I shrugged. "I don't know... 30? Thirty-five?"

"So he is your elder?"

I laughed at the old fashioned language. "Um, I guess."

"And he voluntarily took this job with your vampire, correct?"

"I don't know his deal."

"But he stays. And you say he is infatuated with your vampire, yes?"

I nodded.

"And he knows of what your vampire is capable. He's worked closely with him."

I nodded again. I was starting to feel like a bobblehead.

"And he's aware of your unique talent?"

"Uh huh," I said, just to mix it up.

"So one can assume that if Bobby knew all this about your vampire and still chose to take the photo, that he was assuming the risk that went along with it."

"I guess."

"And yet you still feel as if you must protect him from his own foolish decision."

I blinked and started to feel that coil of irritation flare in my chest. "Well yeah, but he doesn't deserve to die because he's an asshole."

"Of course, Miss Stackhouse. Of course," he smiled. "However, he's an adult and is prepared to take responsibility for his adult decisions-just as you are an adult and responsible for your own decisions. It is none of your business how he is treated, really."

Now I was angry. "But vampire justice is different than human justice. If I run to Eric and tell him Bobby took one of these photos, Eric wouldn't just fire him. He'd drain him. If I don't keep it from him, Bobby would die and it would be on my conscience. Just like if I didn't make a deal with Eric that I would only help him read human minds if they turned the guilty parties over to the police, those humans would be dead. I won't have that on my conscience." Enough people have died for me, I thought. I was leaning forward now, and I knew my voice was getting louder. "I won't be responsible for it."

"But you're not, Miss Stackhouse."

I couldn't believe him. He must come from a truly different world if he didn't believe that what I did had serious consequences for the people around me. "Yes, I am."

"No, Miss Stackhouse. You aren't."

"Yes!"

He didn't answer me, and I was ready to fight now. "Yes I am, Dr. Eugenides. Yes I am. I can't have people dying. I can't know that something I did made it easier for them to be killed." Even as I was saying it, I didn't understand why I was defending Bobby of all people. I'd be happy to see him drained some days, especially when he was thinking those hateful things at me.

"I can't... I can't know that I didn't do everything I could to keep them safe."

By now I was folded in half and stabbing my finger down into the quilt to make my point. And I was shaking. Why was I shaking?

Dr. Gumby sat back, eyes sparking.

"Who else couldn't you keep safe, Miss Stackhouse? Who did you lose?"

And just like that, the rage whooshed out of my body, replaced by stinging, paralyzing emptiness. I saw them. Clear as day. Driving down the gravel of this very driveway, waving happily. I'd been huddled with Jason and Gran under the umbrella, and I'd reached my hand out to catch a few raindrops on my fingers.

"Oh God." A keening sob came up from my throat. "Oh!"

My chest liked to have torn open. Daddy's big blue eyes, crinkles at the corners, smiling. Momma looking relieved, one hand on Daddy's neck, holding him close. She was thinking how romantic the rain seemed to her. Daddy was thinking of all the routes he could take to Monroe, where they were headed to do some shopping.

The aching in my chest seemed to grab all the muscles in the rest of my body, and soon I was curled in on myself, protecting my breaking heart. Something felt very wrong. I felt it all over again. I should have known.

"I should have stopped them from going..." I croaked out. "I should have known... Somehow I should have been able to tell something bad would happen. If... If I'd had any sense, I could have used... used my disability. Somehow. I should have been able to..."

The quilt was blurry and then my vision flickered back to black. I pressed my face against the quilt, remembering pulling it to my nose when I was 7, remembering wanting to disintegrate into the thread, wanting to spread out and disappear into it. Remembered it being dark and light and not moving from this bed. Remembered Gran's hand on my hair, rhythmically stroking it. Remembered knowing nothing was ever going to be OK again.

"Who, Sookie? Who are you remembering right now?" The voice swam up to me from somewhere far away, barely piercing the shell of my grief. I was swimming in images: Of my arms and legs being shoved into a new black dress. Of the house being filled with people. Of the looks of pity on everyone's faces and the spiteful, mean thoughts in their heads. Of confusion. Of begging Gran to take me home to see my parents. Of screaming at her when she wouldn't. Of not getting it. Of insisting that they were coming back for me. That I wasn't really alone. That I hadn't... I hadn't failed.

Dr. Gumby, bless him, let me stay curled like that for a long while. When I could breathe regular again, I couldn't stop my mouth.

"There were no... bodies." God... to think of them as bodies instead of as Daddy and Momma... I choked back the tears and pressed my faced to the quilt, my body crumpled in an awkward position I was too tired to move from. "There was no... good-bye. Not ever. Even with Gran..." I swallowed down the metallic bile that threatened my gag reflex. "Even with Gran, I'd seen her. I'd gotten to mourn her.

"But with Momma and Daddy... One day they were there. They were bringing us treats. And then they vanished. I was 7. For weeks afterwards, I'd wait by the door, insisting that Gran take me back to our house because I knew... Momma and Daddy would be home any time. And I was sure they'd be mad at me for being away so long. Heaven knew I was mad at them for disappearing like that."

The cold emptiness filled me again and I grew restless. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea, I didn't want to relive this. But I couldn't stop now that I'd started. I couldn't stop... remembering.

"And my disability didn't help. It should have." I shivered, a blast of rage running through me. "I knew all kinds of things I didn't want to know. Why couldn't... couldn't I have known that? Known something that would have kept them off that bridge?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I knew there wasn't one. "I just couldn't... understand. Where were they? Gran was smart enough not to lie to me. She knew I'd know anyway what really happened. But I didn't understand what she was talking about." I blinked my eyes rapidly, remembering how disorienting it had been.

I swept my hands over the quilt, savoring the coolness.

"But still, when I heard in her head that Momma and Daddy were gone for good, just like Pop-Pop, even when we visited the tombstones in the little cemetery out there, I didn't get it. Finally after a month, I'd sat Gran down and asked her to hold me and I'd started asking her questions. With the touch, I could hear every little thought that whizzed through her head. A lot of it I don't remember. It didn't make sense to me then. But I remember thinking real hard and trying to come up with questions that would explain it to me. Where were Momma and Daddy? Why hadn't they come home yet? Were they mad at me? Was it Jason's fault?" I remembered climbing around inside their old Ford station wagon two days before and leaving my Barbie behind.

"I had this one doll," I told the doc. "I lost her. For some reason I was real mad that she was gone. I tried to ask Gran where my Barbie was now. I wondered if maybe it had somehow rolled under the seat and gotten caught under the gas pedal. Maybe that's why they'd flown off the bridge. Maybe that's why they couldn't get away from the water. Maybe..."

... And then I just started blubbering. I remembered it and felt myself tense up, a wall of muscle closing around me, protecting me. My teeth scraped together and I felt it down my spine. I'd wailed into Gran's side. "As long as I live, I'll never forget the smell of talcum powder and Jean Nate that Gran used to wear, combined with a faint tang of sweat from where I was hooked under Gran's arm." To this day the smell of Jean Nate makes me want to dry heave.

I forced myself to open my eyes and look out at the dimming afternoon light. "I finally asked the question I'd been asking myself. Didn't they love me anymore?

"And because I was so close to her, and she was petting my hair and holding my hand, I could hear the God's honest truth: Daddy loved me. He always had. Images had flashed in Gran's head of Daddy beaming at Gran, holding a baby with a wisp of white-blond hair, all pink and wiggly. I could only figure that had been me. I'll never forget that image. It's more real to me than the pictures in our photo albums. I could feel from Gran in that moment how much Daddy had loved me.

"And Momma, well, I learned in that moment that Gran had never really liked her. She'd thought her selfish, desperate, and not good enough for her boy. She'd thought her small for being so scared of my disability and dragging me to experts, trying to fix me. And she'd hated how Momma had resented the hell out of me for stealing Daddy's attention. It's funny. I had spent years thinking that I'd done something wrong and that's why Momma was mad at me, explaining away the things she said in her head. But hearing it in Gran's head, I suddenly knew that what I'd seen and heard had been true. Momma had hated me.

"I could also see that they were never coming back. Gran's thoughts had become sparse when she talking about it, interrupted by great waves of sadness. She'd been talking all sweet and soothing, but in her head it was bleak. I knew for sure then that they were gone for good and I was never going to see them again.

"I stopped demanding Gran bring me back to my folks place after that. I finally unpacked my bag and my toys into my bedroom. I helped Gran pick up the house. I gave up."

"Ah," said the demon therapist, startling me. I'd forgotten he was even in the room. I glanced up at him and his face was hidden by the growing shadows in the room. I knew I should turn on the light, but I kind of liked it this way. Darker. Maybe he couldn't see me so well, either. "You'd always known more than you should for your age. You'd wanted to help. Is that right?"

I craned my neck to look up at him. It hurt a little but I didn't mind it. "If I could," I said in a small voice. I closed my eyes, trying to reject the images that came to my mind.

"That is a very kind impulse, my dear. Very kind. You have strong moral character." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and filled with admiration. My heart lurched. I tried not to think of the shotgun and Debbie Pelt and all the rest of the people who'd died on my watch. A deep, burning shame flooded me that I hadn't been able to tamp down.

"It must have been quite difficult to be privy to all the suffering of the adults around you. Tell me, did you ever act on it? Did you try to make things better?"

I pulled myself up slowly, wiping my cheek with the back of one hand. I coughed, trying to dislodge the phlegm from my throat.

"Only when I was real little, but it went bad. They didn't know why I was hugging them. Or they looked angry or scared of me when I'd try to say something nice to them."

Dr. Gumby furrowed his brow and tilted his head the other way. "That must have been very hard for you when you were only trying to help."

I looked down and cleared my throat again pointlessly. "Yeah, well, I learned early to stay out of people's lives even if I couldn't stay out of their heads. What they say about shooting the messenger is true."

"Except you don't stay out of their lives, it seems. You weigh yourself down with their decisions, hoping that if you can control the flow of information you can keep them alive."

Before I could react, my head turned at the sound of the door opening. And then my brain locked up for a totally different reason. Eric was standing there-all 6'4" of him-stark raving naked. And then he turned to Dr. Gumby, bared his fangs and hissed.

Glancing between the two of them, I started shaking. I knew what was going to happen. So I did the only think I could think of. I launched myself at him.

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Eric's POV

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My Sookie. My eyes flipped open and I could smell her essence all over me. She'd marked me. She was mine.

By the gods, she'd been magnificent last night. So lusty. So strong. So willing. Every muscle in my body longed to claim her again. And again. I shot up from the tiny space and stalked toward her room.

I pushed the door open without hesitation and halted instantly. My dearest one was huddled over in the corner of the bed while the callous demon doctor splayed relaxed in the corner chair. The room was flooded with the sweet, salty scent of my Bonded's tears.

Rage pooled in my chest and demanded vengeance for his assault on my Bonded's delicate psyche. Why was he hurting her? Why was she leaking? I felt a rumble building in my chest. The muscles in my shoulders bunched and my eyes narrowed. I curled my lip back from my fangs and a deep growl filled the room.

It was the briefest of warnings, and then I aimed myself at the demon and pounced. But quickly I was joined by my Bonded, who had apparently flung herself into the fray at the same moment. She was screaming and beating at me, and yelling at the therapist as well.

"Oh Lord have mercy, back off! The two of you back off!" I glanced down at my dear one and her face was tear stained and her eyes wild. That wildness. That loosening in her. I turned back to the demon. He was making it worse. I brushed Sookie away. This was between me and the demon.

I was only vaguely aware of this diatribe, as my attention was drawn to the searing pain in my chest. I looked down. The demon had placed the silver-tipped end of his cane against my flesh, and the burning focused my attention to a point. Before I knew what I was doing, I hissed and knocked the can from his hand. The silver took my flesh with it as it went. The tearing made me snarl. In an instant, I had the demon against the wall, holding him by his lapels.

"You dare bring silver into my nest? You disturb my Bonded?"

Before I could rip into the demon's sweaty flesh, I heard a wet sob from my side.

I turned to my Bonded and pulled her against me. She did not smell of me anymore. I did not care for this. I tugged her up and captured her skull with the back of my hand, bringing our faces together in a crushing kiss. She struggled against me until our lips met. Then she was still and rigid. "Mine," I said in my old language, studying her wide, frantic eyes. "Fear not."

I turned back to the demon, still holding my beloved against me, away from him. To my surprise, the demon merely smiled at me.

"Mr. Northman, it's a pleasure to see you again," he said, affecting a tiny bow. I found I could not lower my lip, could not stop myself from hissing. "I beg your forgiveness for having to use the silver against you. I swear to you it was only defensive. I know that in your newly risen state you are highly excitable and I knew seeing your mate in distress would cause a natural protective instinct to rise in you."

I studied him suspiciously. I tightened my grip on the cane and felt it splinter a bit in my palm. Assessing the room and the demon's possessions, I felt confident he had no other weapons on him. And as my Bonded wanted me to stop, I would hold back. I nodded once, tersely.

With my muscles tensed as they were, it was difficult to turn to Sookie, to take my eyes from my enemy but I did it. When I did, I had to repress a smile. There was my Sookie-my Sookie, the stubborn, intransigent one with the tiny scowl on her face and ready to take on a combined total of 400 lbs. and 12 feet of vampire and demon. She is magnificent. I love her. I wanted to eject the demon, throw her over my shoulder and take her on the bed all over again. I want to part her legs and bury my nose in her dark blond curls. I want to lick and suckle her until she's begging for my cock. I want to tease her with it and then fill her with it until we're both screaming. I want it all. Right now.

She did not take kindly to my mood shift, however. She glanced from me to the demon and pushed against me until I agreed to release her. The danger between the demon and I had passed for now. She flung her arms in the air and lowered her brows over her beautiful eyes. Her chin quivered.

"This! this right here is why I have to keep secrets! He didn't even ask me. He just barges in naked as the day is long and attacks you. I'm just crying. Imagine if it were something worse,"she slapped my arm, a small sting prickling across my bicep. "You think I don't think other people can take care of themselves? Look at him! He treats me like I'm some china doll!"

And then her sobs grew quieter. I leveled a warning look at the demon and then turned to look at my lover.

I'm not safe," she whimpered, sagging back into the mattress. "People aren't safe... because of me..."

Her energy seemed to drain from her by the end of her small speech. And what energy she lost seemed to filter into my muscles, straining them further.

"Lover?" My voice was soft. Too soft for the demon to hear. Perhaps I would kill him later after all."Sookie, I don't want you to fear me."

She looked up at me and a heavy weight looked out from her eyes. She didn't answer, just stumbled to the bed and got under the covers, folding up on her side. The next instant I was pressed against her, stroking her face, whispering to her in my old language words that I recalled soothed me. She curled herself to me but shook a little. She refused to open her eyes to look at me, even when I brushed my fingertips over her cheeks and brows.

.

Dr. Gumby's POV

.

Ah, this is excellent. The vampire couldn't have come at a more opportune time-though I would prefer he were clothed. I do so appreciate fine tailoring. And his display now, as he comforted his Bonded was even more interesting. His large, muscled body loomed over hers, pressed against it, curling around her, shielding her from my view. Just like with his obsessive stroking of his Bonded's neck at our last couples session, this movement had many meanings. He was asserting his ownership of the woman to me, the supposedly rival male in the room, by his sexual display of prowess and his unrepentant nakedness. He was protecting her with his body, holding her precious. And he was crowding her, intimidating her, seeking reassurance that she accepted him as a man, as a vampire and as her mate. I wondered if this move would be welcomed or if it would backfire and easily overwhelm her. From what I have seen in the past, it could go either way with this part-human telepath.

But as I studied the telepath, her face was nestled in her vampire's broad chest, her arms curled in on herself protectively. Far from rejecting his overbearing behavior, she pressed herself against him further, eyes closed tightly.

I jotted a note.

I gave the telepath a chance to object to his intimidation. When she didn't, I interjected.

"Ah, Mr. Northman-"

"Leave us," he growled, sparing the shortest of glances my direction.

I did not move, merely continued to observe. It was rare for a vampire of his strength and what I assumed to be considerable age allowed such a private display to be made in front of an outsider. I would take the opportunity where it presented itself.

He was a good mate, I thought, at least judging by his behavior in my presence. He had all the proper responses: He was mindful of his mate, even to the point of all his attention revolving around her. He demonstrated violent but appropriate protective instincts. Even under physical duress he did not back down. He must be quite the warrior indeed. And now that she was disturbed, he likewise did not hesitate to offer her solace. Gentle and aggressive, in equal measure.

My attention shifted back to the telepath. Neither when he was in full attack posture, nor now when he was very nearly forcing his tenderness upon her did she demonstrate fear of him. She felt safe with her vampire, I realized, despite her look of terror moments before.

The curled in arms, the closed eyes… Perhaps she was wishing the world away? Her memories? Wishing to stay with her vampire and jettison reality?

Or perhaps she was blocking from her own conscious mind her yearning for the vampire?

Interesting.

She had fear, of course, and often expressed it. But it wasn't truly of her vampire, though he was violent and dangerous. No, her fear and her rage were global in nature. They reached into every part of her life. And after hearing of the loss of her parents-and then of her grandmother who raised her and of the others who had perished in fighting to protect her-I could see why. I could see why this small mostly human woman warred with herself. Her natural instinct towards intimacy butted right up against her deep fear of abandonment and overresponsibility and guilt. That misery in her eyes was well-earned. Unnecessary, but well-earned.

Which made me think...

"Pardon me, Mr. Northman," I said again, a little louder this time. I could see the vampire would not relent until his telepath seemed on the mend. "Ah, Miss Stackhouse, I believe this is a perfect opportunity to work on many of the things we have discussed this afternoon."

Initially she simply laid there limply. Her eyes had flickered open but were unseeing. She was deep in thought, or perhaps deep in memory. She shivered once, twice and then turned to lay on her back and look up at her vampire. Carefully, tentatively, she reached up and touched his cheek. Swiftly, the vampire took her hand and held it to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Are you well, dear one? I can eliminate him."

She shuddered at his suggestion, but she needn't have. I am well prepared for a challenge. She blinked and a light trail of tears traveled from her eyes to her hairline. "What?" she said, her voice quiet. "N-no. Please don't, baby." The vampire stiffened at the nickname but did not object. Interesting.

Slowly, she struggled to sit up and the vampire watched her studiously, scanning her for signs of injury. I had seen it many times before. Though not physically wounded, humans could maintain emotional scars for years. This was hardest for supes to cope with—especially vampires, who could heal wounds, but only visible ones. The vampire's face became a mask, a sure sign he was cursing his powerlessness.

She cleared her throat and then looked over her vampire with clearer eyes. She tugged at the covers and pulled them up against her chest, as if to cover herself. "Good gracious, Eric, you're naked! Go." She shoved at him, unable to move him. "Get up. Go get dressed." Another shove, and this time the vampire smiled. "I'll let you know when I'm done here."

The vampire laughed but otherwise was unmoved. He seemed almost relieved at her pique.

She pushed his chest one more time, and though her movement was rough and tone stern, a small smile played at her lips. I inhaled slowly. Ah interesting. She finds his incorrigibility... arousing. On the last shove, she held her hands to him, gingerly touching the fading pink spot where my cane burned him. She looked down at it and her body did a small jerk, as if she was holding herself back from pressing her face, her lips to it. For his part, the vampire was too surprised to hide the confusion on his face, at least for a seemed torn between leaning into her and removing himself from her grasp-a sure sign that he was... what?... confused? No, touched by her impulse. Yes, touched.

Yes, this is a couple very much in love.

I glanced at the collection of erotic photos of the vampire and cleared my throat softly. As a supe myself, I don't mind nudity, however now is not the time-not when Miss Stackhouse was close to a breakthrough.

Luckily, Miss Stackhouse broke the stare. She pushed at his chest one more time and scowled at him, now all trace of humor gone, her face flushing with embarrassment. I jotted a note: Recurring rejection?

"I mean it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from him. "Get out of here and don't come back until you've covered yourself. That might be OK in your house, but there are rules here, and the first one is that you put on your shorts for company."

She glanced at me apologetically and then covered her eyes.

The vampire glared down at her, tracing his hand over her side, checking, again, that she was well.

"No." His voice was a low rumble in his chest, a tone reserved for warnings.

Her head whipped around, anger sparking in her eyes. "Eric. Now."

I withheld a laugh as the vampire bared his fangs and Miss Stackhouse... rolled her eyes. I jotted: Disagreement as foreplay...

When I looked up again, the vampire was challenging his telepath with a level stare.

Finally, the fairy groaned in frustration and slid off the bed, away from the vampire. She began marching toward the bedroom door.

"Fine. I'll leave the room at the same time you do. Happy?"

She stood just outside the door and held her arms out from herself in exasperation. She raised her eyebrows.

"Very good, Miss Stackhouse," I said, the pair of them swiveling to look at me, as if they were surprised I was still among them. "Mr. Northman, I would be honored if you would join us this evening. I believe an impromptu couple's session is in order."

I smiled as he bared his fangs at me now. I rose to my full height, grasping my walking stick from where he had placed it against the bed. I gave him what I hoped was an ingratiating smile.

"Mr. Northman, I believe your Bonded could use your assistance this evening. Would you do us the honor?"

The vampire rose slowly from the bed in a fluid, catlike motion, his eyes never leaving mine. He stalked toward the door, shoulders back and eyes flicking from me to his woman.

He never answered me. He simply stepped into his Bonded, pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard, grinding his obvious arousal into her belly. The kiss went on and on and the telepath quickly moved to her toe tips and then stepped on his feet to get closer to him, pressing her body more firmly into his. I do believe that had I not been present, she would have climbed him and wrapped her legs around him.

I cleared my throat, but the vampire would not release her, clearly feeling the need to stake his claim again. It surprised me and I chuckled. I did not take Mr. Northman for an insecure man. I patiently took the pocket square from my blazer and blotted my forehead and neck. These Louisiana winters were far too balmy for my taste. Perhaps soon the telepath would allow me to open a window. It would be an improvement for her as well as for me.

Finally, the vampire pulled back and stepped into the bedroom across the hall. Miss Stackhouse weaved on her feet, absently brushing her hair back and touching her lips.

.

Sookie's POV

.

Oh… wow. Oh my.

My vision blurred and then came back into focus. That's when I noticed I was weaving a little from my spot in the hall. I smiled and touched my lips with my fingertips. I smiled and chuckled softly. Wow. He's…. wow.

Too bad the doctor is still here. It's a shame to cover all of that lean muscle and burgeoning manhood, as my romance novels would say.

I chuckled but caught myself. Oh. The doctor. My eyes swung around to him. He was still standing there, hands primly on his walking stick, soft smile on his face. My face felt so red I thought my cheeks would burst into flames. But under Dr. Gumby's eagle eye I straightened my back and looked at him. He's in my bedroom after all, and if I want to kiss my… whatever Eric is, then I am damn well going to. I narrowed my eyes and before I knew it, my hands were on my hips. I wanted to tell him not to give me that look. He wasn't my Momma.

But then I thought of my Momma and I… I needed a break.

I felt the scowl fall from my face and my head hurt. I… I had to get away from him, from those eyes that I swear were interpreting everything I did. I turned from him and wavered for a second.

"Um… I.. I'll be right back." He just nodded and refused to look away from me. I felt irritated at that and I didn't know why. "Eric needs a blood before the night gets too long."

And trying not to run, I high-tailed it to the kitchen and away from Dr. Gumby's knowing eyes.

.

-V-V-

.

My heartbeat returned to normal as I filled the glass of water in the sink. The microwaved hummed as it did its thing next to me. Good gravy, what was all that? First Eric attacked my therapist, then he was cuddling. Then he laid that whopper of a kiss on me that made me forget where I was. OK, so maybe my heartbeat sped up again right then. I took a deep gulp of the water, hoping it could cool the parts of me that were near to overheating.

I looked out the window and scanned the trees. I was glad I could move around again, but maybe I'd never stop watching the trees. Just like the collapsing at the sound of the floorboards, it was something I did before I thought about it. And I did it all the time.

I couldn't shake the heaviness in my chest that told me that if I'd just scanned the trees more carefully that time a month ago, I woudn't need the demon therapist or the meditation CDs or any of the rest of this. I wouldn't be dredging up my parents' death. I'd be at Merlotte's right now, filling a drink order for Catfish or watching Jason hit on half the women in the bar. I could imagine the sounds and smell of the bar: The scraping of pints on the shellacked bar top, the sloshing of drinks when old Jane Bodehouse had past her limit, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes and sweat.

Well, no point in thinking of that, I thought as I looked around the trees. Absently, I sent my mind out, looking for who was out there. Quickly I discovered there was a vampire in the trees. The impulse to cut and run hit me like I'd been decked over the head with a beer bottle, but I held my ground and tried hard not to make a sound. I didn't need any more of Eric's hero act. Not tonight. I didn't think my nerves could take it.

I breathed deep. It was probably Bill, watching over me. Yeah. I'm sure that's it. I strained my neck… just to make sure. As the microwave dinged, I about collapsed, but for a whole other reason.

Out there in the trees was Bubba. I guess he'd seen me, because he stepped forward enough for me to eyeball him at the edge of the security light. I smiled and waved, almost laughing. Almost, because Bubba held up a cat in his left hand and smiled a fangy smile.

Oh. Oh my.

I turned to the microwave, desperate not to think about Bubba's dinner. Guess it was time to bring dinner to another vampire.

.

Dr. Gumby's POV

.

The room was dark and I'd just returned to my seat from turning on a bedside lamp when the vampire returned. He was clad in a pair of worn jeans and a kelly green t-shirt. No shoes. His hair was finger-brushed and fell in great clumps around his eyes. And those eyes looked right past me and landed on the little cluster of photos of himself in the corner. I didn't dare move. I wanted to observe how he took to all the photos being arranged in—well, I could only call it a shrine.

The vampire froze halfway into the room and a broad smile spread across his face, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. Those eyes moved quickly, assessing each photo in turn, and if I didn't know better I'd think the vampire was crowing. He was proud of his physique, and perhaps even more proud that his mate had chosen to display the photos in the company of other men.

His brows furrowed for but a second as he scanned through the photos one last time and then his eyes landed somewhere and I turned my head unobtrusively to see what had caught his attention. To my surprise, it wasn't an image of the vampire in repose. It was a paperback, barely cracked, with the image of a muscled warrior on the cover, a lithe woman wrapped around the man's leg.

I looked back quickly to the vampire's face to see if I could ascertain the meaning. In a flash so quick I nearly missed it, the vampire's face softened and grew nearly… mournful. He assessed the photos again and the expression stayed in place. He glanced out at the dark night. And then his face resumed its steely imperviousness. It was as if nothing had happened. He crossed the rest of the room and laid his long legs out on the bed. He turned to me and nodded, a silent warning.

I lowered my head kindly. Interesting. The vampire was conflicted: He could control his woman with his body—but that body was useless during daylight. Or that was the impression I got from his quick glance out the window. When I looked up, the vampire was smoothing his hand along the telepath's quilt, breathing deeply. I do believe if I weren't present, the vampire would have rolled himself on the quilt, absorbing his woman's scent into his skin. Yes. Quite in love.

.

-V-V-

.

The vampire and the telepath sat across from each other in comfortable silence. Or as comfortable as a couple can be at the beginning of a counseling session. I smiled sympathetically at them. It didn't seem to matter what species they were—all couples sitting down for therapy together had that tight hold on their emotions, that strain on their faces from being unsure how to behave with one another now that they had a witness.

I wanted to move past this stage quickly so Miss Stackhouse could move forward. Some days I wait for the couple to break the silence, see who goes first, see what's on their mind. But I had an idea where Miss Stackhouse's earlier revelations could lead, and I was excited for her, even if she was looking at me with something akin to dread.

I smiled at her, careful to keep my lips closed, and swiped my pocket square across my damp forehead.

"Well, that was quite an emotional scene we had back there, was it not? How are you healing, Mr. Northman?"

The vampire's growl was all I needed to know he was right as rain.

I turned to the telepath, who was eyeing me suspiciously. I watched her for a second and her gaze seemed to soften somewhat, her shoulders relaxing infinitesimally. She licked her lip and her hand strayed to her vampire's thigh. She leaned toward him and he placed a proprietary hand on her neck. He was glaring at me, but I paid it no mind.

"Now, I believe there may be a miscommunication here: Miss Stackhouse, you said that Mr. Northman attacked me because he saw your tears and didn't think you could care for yourself." I turned to the vampire. "Mr. Northman, please turn to your Bonded and tell her why you acted as you did."

Mr. Northman's fangs were pressing into his lower lip. Vampires are not known for their willingness to explain themselves-ancient and powerful ones even moreso. I watched the vampire for his response. He wiped blood from his mouth and placed the empty bottle of True Blood on the side table. I smiled. This little bit of intimidation was almost quaint it was so predictable. But that didn't mean I took it lightly. I ran my fingers along the filigree of my walking stick and waited.

The vampire stroked his Bonded's neck with sensitivity and deliberation for a moment, his eyelids dropping slightly at the sheer tactile pleasure of it. He allowed himself this, and then turned to her.

"Lover, you are strong-very strong." He ran fingers through her hair, his eyes roaming her face, which was flushed in response to his closeness and his soft tone. "You are my Valkyrie. But I will not allow the demon to inflict pain, no matter how strong you are. You need no more pain right now."

The telepath leaned away from him and rolled her eyes, muttering something like, "Mr. High Handed."

The vampire descended toward her and she jerked back, irritated. Then he whispered to her in a foreign tongue and her muscles relaxed. She allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. I listened carefully, studying. I could pick out the rhythm of the language, sounding like Old English, but not quite. No, Old Norsk. Yes, that's it. It's been centuries since I've heard it. This one may well be a Viking after all. Very interesting. I believe he was muttering something about ownership and protection.

I watched the telepath's eyes flutter closed and her mouth part as his words and breath drifted over her ear. A slight mottle of blush appeared on her cheeks. So she enjoys the ancient language. But I wonder…

"Miss Stackhouse, do you know what he says?"

The telepath leaned back from him reluctantly and looked at me, eyes glassy. She blinked and then straightened, pushing the vampire away as if she'd been caught. "Ah… No."

I thought back to the last session, when she insisted she would never be turned and crowed proudly about never falling under the vampire's influence. I nodded. Very interesting. Perhaps the vampire slips into his ancient language when he wishes to tell her things he does not believe she will appreciate. "If you would be so kind, Mr. Northman, please translate."

The vampire turned to me and leveled a glacial stare in my direction. I smiled encouragingly and opened my palm toward his beloved. He would have to learn to trust her if they were to last.

"Lover, I said I wished to protect you, regardless of your strength."

"That's not quite right, is it now, Mr. Northman? My Old Norsk is rusty but there was something else in there."

I raised a brow at him and he curled back his lips from his fangs in frustration. I don't believe he's used to being out-maneuvered.

He turned back to his telepath and took her mouth in a long, slow, deliberately arousing kiss. I could smell the effects it had on his Bonded and when he released her, her breath was ragged and she had fisted his shirt in her palms. "You are mine," he whispered between kisses. "And I protect what is mine."

The telepath ran her fingers into his hair and kissed him before the last word was out of the vampire's mouth. Mr. Northman groaned and fell upon her, pressing their dual weights into the mattress. Then the pungent scent of blood was in the air. I watched Miss Stackhouse's smile against his lips and realized she must have just fed him a little of her blood. Interesting. Not at all the response I expected. Perhaps there was a part of this claiming that the telepath enjoyed after all.

But then the mood shifted as suddenly as if a gust of wind passed through the room. She pulled back and looked at him, and her face was immediately set, eyes narrowed, mouth a tight line, jaw flexing. She shoved until he pulled of of her. He smirked. I believe this is a well-worn dynamic between these two.

"I'm… not yours… and you know it," she hissed lowly, and the vampire twitched in a way that led me to believe that she may as well have slapped him. But there was something in her eye. Some small glimmer. She leaned into him ever so slightly and pressed her cheek into his chest. Interesting. I believe the humans would call this a "mixed message." The vampire must be used to this, however, because his arms circle around her and he welcomes her. He buries his face in her hair, as much to protect himself from my gaze as to be close to his woman.

And she is his woman. I watched her press her arm around his ribs and close her eyes. She let out a soft, breathy sigh. Content. Perfectly content. And clinging. Desperate not to lose him. And yet…

"Miss Stackhouse, when your vampire says you are his, what do you hear?"

Without raising her head from the vampires chest, she said, "It means I'm his property." She stroked the vampire's side and then pushed off of him reluctantly. Her eyes were hooded, but a quick few blinks and she was fully alert and the tension had returned to her body.

"It means I can't offer my blood or sex to anyone but him, but that he can pass me around like a party favor if he wants."

Now her arms were crossed over her chest and she was shrugging off the touch of her vampire. Her eyes were steady on the quilt. Mr. Northman growled and leaned in close to his woman, his mouth at her ear.

"Passing around humans is a disgusting practice perpetuated by vicious old vampires," he growled and Miss Stackhouse flinched away. He would not have it, however, and he used his considerable strength to force her close to him. He is very aggressive, controlling with her, but not when she is outright abusive. No. No, only when he believes her to be pulling away emotionally. This is very unusual, especially for a vampire old enough to speak Old Norsk fluently. "Besides, passing you off assumes I would grow bored of you. And you, my lover, are never boring."

The telepath merely hugged her arms around herself tighter and curled her shoulders in. Interesting. She does not trust this to last. Perhaps she can't believe him.

I studied the pair for a moment and thought of Miss Stackhouse's earlier revelations about her parents' deaths. I had a hunch.

"Miss Stackhouse, if I may?" The telepath looked up at me with hard eyes, no emotion betrayed. "Do you believe vampires capable of mating?"

The telepaths laugh was like a firework going off-a crack and then a pop and a tinkling laughter. The question seemed to take even her off guard, as she clamped her hand over her mouth. A sparkle returned to her eyes and she raised a brow at me.

I smiled and waved a hand. She had a point. The vampire had all but mated with her in front of me. "What I mean, my dear, is do you believe vampires capable of long-term relationships—of finding and keeping a mate?"

The mirth left the telepath's lovely blue eyes and her mouth puckered, her shoulders back in defiance. "If they can, I haven't seen it." She cocked her head to the side, leaning away from her vampire.

"This is very important, Miss Stackhouse. You have clearly bonded with your vampire—if not, his inability to rescue you from the fairy assassins would not have the impact on you that it did. It is quite understandable that you might prefer to think vampires incapable of such long-term devotion. After all, you experienced quite a betrayal from the last vampire with whom you were romantically involved. And you were beginning to form a love bond with this vampire a year ago when he lost all memory of your time together and left you. That is quite a lot of betrayal and abandonment."

I looked at the part-fairy and she tensed and looked down for an instant. "Yes," I whispered and nodded. "Quite a lot, indeed."

I gazed on the couple. They were a matched set of tension and defensiveness: Their shoulders both tensed, their jaws set, their eyes level and emotionless. Yes, very well matched indeed.

I slanted my head to the side. "Do you recall what we were discussing earlier, Miss Stackhouse, about your parents?"

The part-fairy's eyes flared with warning and, were it possible, I would believe that her muscles clamped even further down upon her bones. She was a rigid mass almost instantly. She gave no sign she heard me, so I prompted again. She nodded slightly. The vampire's fangs made a reappearance.

"Have I shared with you, Miss Stackhouse, some of the research on early childhood traumas?" The telepath shook her head slightly. "Children who experience major traumas, such as the death of a parent—" The telepath lowered her eyes. "—often experience what is called in clinical circles a 'foreshortened view of the future.' What that means is because important adults in their lives are not there to model long, rich lives, they often cannot think past the immediate moment.

"Which means they cannot plan for a future. They find it difficult to imagine their job prospects long term. They cannot imagine living to retirement age and often have difficulty saving for the future. And," here I paused to watch the telepaths eyes sink toward the quilt, "they often cannot fathom a long-term committed relationship. It's not that they do not wish for these things. Their brains literally cannot imagine them for themselves. They learn not to expect anything. They can't see beyond the moment, beyond survival."

And there it was: The heavy-lidded, slumped shouldered look of recognition. Miss Stackhouse raised her eyes to me and shook her head slightly and pulled her chin back, shocked, confused, suddenly aware.

The vampire, bonded mate that he is, quickly gathered her to him and whispered soft, kind words to her. Very good. Very much in love.

I waited patiently, allowing the fairy's tears to well and fall, observing how the vampire tensed and his eyes tightened. He did not enjoy Miss Stackhouse's tears. He would want to quell them. Let us observe.

The little girl sniffled and opened her mouth a few times, attempting to order her thoughts, I believed. Mr. Northman was becoming more and more agitated. His face remained placid, but his hand twitched in his lap and I was sure he was considering reaching for the sword he brought into the bedroom when he returned, clad in a pair of jeans and kelly green t-shirt. He believed I was causing his beloved pain unnecessarily. We would discuss this.

"You will leave..."

"Thank you, Mr. Northman," I said softly but firmly. I smiled at the vampire and held up a hand to stop him. I could tell this vampire was unused to heeding others' instructions. I palmed my silver-tipped walking stick and waited politely, all the while watching the part-fairy gain strength.

"I understand your desire to make this easier on your Bonded, but it is essential that she be allowed to express her feelings-all her feelings-and be able to put words to them. Will you allow it?"

The vampire set his jaw and twitched once more. But he nodded slightly and turned to his Bonded, stroking her neck carefully, delicately, pulling her into his chest. There was something in the way he tensed that told me he was feeling this, as well, despite the loss of the blood bond.

I smiled kindly at the telepath, as I could see she was shocked by this information. Realization was dawning on her, a slight light in her eye that wasn't there before.

"I thought it was because of my disability…" she whispered. "The reason I never thought of having a relationship, I mean."

I nodded. She was very sharp, very brave, addressing this head-on. I was quite proud, though I knew she did not need it from me.

"Your gift complicates the issue, of course, Miss Stackhouse," I nodded. "But it is almost unheard-of for someone with childhood trauma to piece this together. After all," I said with a flourish of my pen, "most of us merely live our lives. We don't question why we have the goals we have—or rather, why we are easily satisfied or discontented."

The telepath nodded absently, her brows furrowed in concentration as the pieces fell together in her mind. "So that's why I didn't expect much from work?" she asked no one in particular.

I nodded, excited for her. "And it may be why, when your vampire lost his memory of your time together, you did not question it, did not fight it."

Miss Stackhouse's eyes shot to the vampire's in a moment. She watched him and his face softened only slightly-but enough that the telepath could tell he was touched. He pulled her to him more tightly. She did not struggle in his grasp. She put her hand on his forearm, her nails digging into his skin, almost as if she were seeking to hold him there, keep him with her, by her will alone.

"May I ask you something, Miss Stackhouse?"

The telepath looked at me, and I could see she was close to overwhelmed already. Things were about to become much more overwhelming for her, but I believed her ready for it.

"Do you love Mr. Northman?"

Her eyes widened, in a watery, panicked moment. It was a look I'd never seen on her face before. Pleading.

The vampire was still, his face placid, but his eyes tracked his Bonded closely. He moved his hand from her waist and slipped it behind her. Ah. So the vampire fears outright rejection. Interesting.

"I..." She started, blinking furiously to clear the moisture from her eyes. She glanced once, twice at the vampire to her side and tucked her head close to her chest. "I can't say."

I cocked my head and waited.

"May I ask, Miss Stackhouse: Does that mean you don't know how you feel-or that you cannot verbalize it?"

She bit her lip and I watched as she vibrated with shivers. Her hand tightly grasped Mr. Northman's arm and he leaned into her. The other hand wrapped around her stomach protectively.

"The second."

The vampire leaned a millimeter closer to her, his eyes softer, brows wrinkled infinitesimally.

"Why can't you say it?"

She paused for a second, considering, and then huffed out a frustrated breath. Suddenly, she wasn't panic-stricken or frightened. It seemed I had touched her too closely. I waited for the onslaught.

"I just can't say it, alright? You're awful pushy tonight." She ran her fingers through her hair and refused to look at the vampire who was still clutching her. "Can't it all just be too much? For heaven's sake, the scars are still on my thighs and you want me to talk about this?" She waved her hand between herself and Mr. Northman, who was watching her cautiously.

When I thought she was done speaking, she whispered, "Maybe I can't do all this all over again."

"What can't you do again?"

"Look, after..." She sighed and slumped her shoulders. "After what the Things did to me, I know too well how much power you all have," she waved her hand between Mr. Northman and myself, indicating, I assumed, the whole supernatural world, "how much stronger you are. I know how you can control my life. And I just... I can't let go of that control. Not now. I feel like I don't have any control right now."

She reached a hand up to her vampire's face, but he intercepted it and held it in his own, away from his body. She looked at her hand and blinked.

"And why do you believe admitting your feelings-whatever they may be-would be tantamount to giving up control? Why can it not embolden you?" I asked. I found myself leaning forward in my seat, I was so excited for the telepath.

She looked up at me, confused, as if the answer were obvious. I thought I knew. I thought we were on the cusp.

She let out a short, humorous laugh. She shook her head.

"You know how vampires are. If I say what I feel-and I'm not saying what that is, you understand—but if I say it, things will change. He'll take over my life. He'll want me to quit my job and move into his house and be his little woman. His trophy... His kept woman. And I want my life. I need to have a say over when I come and go and where I live and work. And I want..."

She stopped, looking down, her face flushed. Her countenance was strong but her eyes seemed hopeless, confused.

"This is quite understandable," I said gently. "After losing control to the fairy assassins, it's quite natural to seek control over your environment."

"Exactly!" she interrupted. "So why are you forcing it? Why would you ask me that, unless you're on his side?"

She cast a look at her vampire that was so sharp that I wondered at his willingness to endure it.

"I assure you, Miss Stackhouse, I wish only for you to heal. And you are doing quite well. Your willingness to step outside today proves that-"

"Lover," purred the vampire, gathering her in his arms, kissing her cheek and neck and muttering in Old Norsk. Something about a Valkyrie and perfection. So in love this vampire-willing to endure her barbs. I raised my brows, surprised.

Finally, I decided to continue, attempting to make my point before time ran out.

"As I was saying, your willingness to step outside today proves that you are willing to experience uncertainty and overcome your body's fear of change to improve. What I am suggesting is that the same may be necessary to heal your abandonment wound and repair the emotional bond between you-the heart bond."

Her look towards me was sharp with doubts. "This aversion of yours to risk is natural, Miss Stackhouse. One could hardly blame you for wishing to avoid pain—any pain. But you have seen how staying where you felt safe-in this house, for instance—has caused your world to shrink and did nothing to address the underlying fear-which is that you cannot protect yourself, that you are unloved."

I raised my brows as she watched me, her face doubtful but curious. She licked her lips and nodded.

"Likewise, with the abandonment wound and with the lingering effects of childhood loss, it feels safer, more sane, to hold paramours at a distance, to give up your bond before it can abandon you." I thought of her description of losing her parents, of her confusion and stubbornness that they would come back, of that doll that she thought, in her child's logic, must have been the cause of her parents' premature deaths, and felt my heart lurch toward the very young telepath. It was quite a lot to be saddled with and, without guidance, she had done an admirable job of adjusting to it. Now was time for her to grow, however. And it might be painful.

"But I assure you that the behavior that you believe is protecting you from feeling abandoned is recreating the abandonment every time you reject your feelings for your Bonded."

Her eyes slid from mine, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Her eyes searched the room frantically and then settled on the watercolor of cotton fields behind me. Then she grew still. Her eyes scanned the painting from top to bottom, seemingly taking in every square inch of it.

"Maybe..." She swallowed, shaking her head when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"When I was alone after my parents died... Oh, hell. I hate this." She looked up at me, channeling all her self-hatred and shame around her parents' death toward me. I gladly took it in if it would mean her recovery and that the heart bond would be restored.

She struggled out of the vampire's hold, but still held one of his hands on her belly. He continued to kiss her hair. She backhanded him in the chest lightly and he relented.

"So you're saying that the longer I don't say... how I feel... the longer I'll feel... alone?"

I smiled at her, pride welling up in me. I nodded. "And perhaps though your childhood loss would suggest otherwise, a long term bond based on love is possible for you."

I let the words linger in the air, watching as tears pooled in her eyes and she shivered slightly. I could see her turning over the idea in her mind.

"But if I admit my feelings," she said slowly, her fingers at her lips, "he'll have power over me. More than he has now as the Sheriff of Area 5. I won't be able to... I won't be able to control my feelings anymore. I won't be able to stop myself from doing something... Oh Jesus Christ, Shepard of Judea, I just know I won't be able to stop myself from doing something stupid to protect him. And I know..." Her voice broke. "I know that if I say how I feel... and he... doesn't feel the same, or if it doesn't... mean the same thing to him... I... I'm not sure I can take that." She looked up at me with clear, cold eyes. She had made up her mind, then, to hold back. For now. That's fine. She's made more progress than I expected today.

"That is a situation easily remedied," I said with a smile, turning to the vampire who sat scrutinizing his mate with a blank expression. "Mr. Northman, can you tell me how you feel about your Bonded?"

The vampire looked at me with those emotionless blue eyes of his and pulled the part-fairy against him so tightly her face was crushed into his chest. For a moment, she seemed content there.

He opened his mouth to speak and as he did the part-fairy grew more and more tense. Before a syllable could leave his mouth the part-fairy's eyes screwed together tight and she cringed away from him. Such an extreme reaction. And also extremely understandable.

"Certainly," he started, pulling her back to him. "I-"

"Stop!" the part-fairy blurted, clapping her hand over her mouth as quickly as she spoke. "No... just... Don't. I don't expect you to feel the same as me. I don't expect you to stay... I... I can't. Please. Just don't."

And just like that, she crumpled in on herself and the vampire and I may well have ceased to exist in her world. She was desperate, terrified. Lost.

Her breath came out in long ripping sobs. She clutched at the sides of his shirt, burying her face in the vampire's chest, unwilling to meet either of our eyes.

"Please, let's not do this right now," she wheezed when at last she could speak.

"I just can't, not right now-I can't hear it and I can't say it," she said, looking up at him, begging him to understand with her eyes. "It's not that I can't feel it. I just can't... say it."

The vampire pushed her hair out of her face and leaned down, kissing her softly. An acceptance. A slight nod. "You will yield to me yet, Sookie," he said lowly. "But I am a patient vampire. I will outlast your defenses." He kissed her again. "And then you will be mine."

She looked at him and kissed him back. His lips drifted over her eyelids, clearing them of tears and he hugged her to him. She hugged him back. Very interesting. Very good. However oddly, they were coming to an understanding.

I glanced at my watch. "Well, I hate to end it here, but I believe it is time for me to make my departure," I said into the room, well aware that neither the telepath nor the vampire were paying me any mind. The moment was so tender and so intimate, I could not believe that they would be denying their feelings for much longer.

"I have a few assignments for you two, to continue working on the abandonment wound and the heart bond." The pair were looking in each others eyes. I paused until, finally, they glanced at me. "First, I would like for you to work towards discussing your feelings for one another. I believe this will be helpful. Second, courting continues to be important. Mr. Northman, last time you prepared a date for your Bonded, based on things she would enjoy. Now it's time for Miss Stackhouse to learn more about what you enjoy." I ignored his fangy smile. "I would like for you to prepare a date where you share the types of non-sexual activity you enjoy. Share something of yourself with your Bonded, perhaps something she didn't know.

"And continue working on getting outside. I believe there will continue to be great reward in that."

Then I turned to the part-fairy, who was staring at me from the folds of her lover's shirt. "And I have one last question for you Miss Stackhouse." Her body tensed, but I believed she might like this one.

"Do you like dogs?"

.

So? What do you think? That Dr. Gumby. He's a smart one. And so fun to write. I hope the delay in posting was made up for by the abundance of Dr. Gumby in this chapter.

Oh, and I've taken the plunge: I'm on Twitter. Same name as my FF name. I'd love to chat with you on there. Those girls are wild. :)