A/N Thank you for being patient. This was trickier to complete than I expected it to be, but it ended up twice the size of my normal chapter length.

Chapter 35 – Epilogue

"Are you ready?" Tara asked, her hand firmly clasped in mine. I swore under my breath, trying to calm the rapid pacing of my heart.

"I'm scared," I said.

She threw her head back and laughed at that. The sunshine caught on the silver chain around her neck causing it to glint. "Don't give me that crap! You've survived worse."

I nodded tersely. And despite my misgivings, we both crouched a little at the knees. It was a practiced stance, one I didn't really think about or even mean to do. An automatic response left over from the hundreds and hundreds of instances of doing this exact thing back in my youth.

Tara called loudly so everyone could hear: "Three… Two… One!"

We jumped on one, pushing hard off the granite and flipping backward. Terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. With a rush, I remembered why I loved doing this: that precise moment where exertion met gravity and I began to free fall straight into nothing; the way the air rushed past my ears, buffeting loudly as a helicopter; those brief moments of pure nothing where the world stopped and it was me who moved instead.

I plunged into the icy depths. In a blink, the bright of the summer sun transformed into the dark, inky waters of Douglas Lake. I turned and swam toward the surface, breaking it with a big splash and a cheer. Tara, to my right, did the same.

"Heads up!"

We looked up just in time to see Jason take a running leap and front flip straight off Hawk's Rock, diving into the water between us. Next was J.B. And then Eric was up.

"Come on!" I yelled up to him "Don't be chicken."

Even from where I was treading water, twenty-something feet below where Eric stood on the precipice of the rock, I could see his look of apprehension. But then he let out a sudden battle cry and fell forward, hands outstretched, straight as a pin. He sliced straight through the water, nary a splash.

He came back up and let out a whoop. "That's a rush!" We looked at each other and shared a grin. "Again?"

"At your own peril," I said. "I can't be bothered hiking around the hill to the top of that rock again."

"Damn, man!" Jason said. "I was positive you were gonna belly flop."

"What can I say? There's more to me than just pure muscle and good looks," Eric said and flexed.

"Do I need to be worried right now?" I said. "Trapped between both of your inflated egos, I'm seriously concerned I might die of suffocation."

Jason laughed and began swimming away from us toward the moored swimming raft. When he was sure I was looking, he kicked water in my direction. I squealed and ducked away.

"I'm not 16 and 110 pounds anymore, Stackhouse!" I yelled. "When I dunk you, you're gonna notice it!"

"Not if you can't catch me," he called back, flipping me the bird.

We all swam after Jason, following him closer to the shore of the lake's main beach and up onto the wooden swimming raft. I flopped onto my back, the wooden boards warm and welcoming against my spine. I closed my eyes. The raft bobbed left to right and I could hear the sounds of locals and holidaymakers on the beach, a mix of cheerful chatter and the squeals of children.

J.B. let out a sigh of contentment. "All we need is some brews."

"Fuck, then we really would be 16 again," Tara said, slapping the raft for emphasis.

"Remember that body-board we rigged with the beer cooler?" I said. "We'd draw straws to see whose turn it was to paddle it out here."

"Oh my god, and that time Jason drew the short straw and wouldn't stop singing that stupid, godawful Venga Boys song until someone else caved and dragged it out!"

"Yes!" I laughed, the memory appearing in my mind as clear as a bell. "I forgot all about that! I think it was Quinn who ended up paddling it out. He was so salty about that too."

"Good," Jason said. "He was a dick."

"That's right," J.B. chuckled, "Then you just rowed your canoe on out after you made him tow the beer board to the raft. The look on his face!"

"Was that the time we tried to see how many people this thing could take before it would begin sinking?" Tara said.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that," I said. We never managed it. There was about 15 of us teens, a mix of locals and regular vacationers like Jason and me, crammed onto the floating raft, jumping and shouting, trying to push one another off.

"And I think that was the same day Sam busted us for drinking out here too," Tara continued. "Took our board."

"It was," Jason said. "I tried to break into the lifeguard hut to get it back the next morning… But I couldn't get in, he had it locked up tighter than Fort Knox."

Our laughter petered out, the mood sobering swiftly as throwing water on coals. We lapsed into silence, and I opened my eyes to stare up at the sky. I was 16 again and my worries were both enormous and inconsequential, the way every teenager's worries were. Who I was crushing on. How best to fill the endless days of summer. Who was partying where. Who said what behind which person's back. And two hundred yards to my right a very different world was kept under lock and key in the basement of a lifeguard hut. It chilled me, in a deep visceral way, right in my gut.

I felt Eric's finger trace along the scar at my side and I tilted my head to gaze at him.

"Don't get too lost in there," he said quietly.

"Where?" I mouthed.

He tapped his forehead. "In the past." Even this close to me, his words were barely audible over the sound of the water slapping the underside of the raft. I searched his eyes, which were neither pitying nor patronizing. He propped himself up on one elbow. "I think we need to make another one of those floating coolers." He turned, addressing the whole group and leaving me to time travel back to the present. "I have a feeling Bill will make sure the lifeguards look the other way."

"Of course he will," Tara said with a snort. "He thinks the sun shines out of Sookie's ass. He'll do anything if she asks sweetly enough."

"Hey!" I protested. "I have it on good authority the sun does shine out of my ass, thank you very much."

Everyone laughed, smoothly restoring the mood and current decade.

The fact was, the townsfolk here did seem to think sun shone out my ass, for lack of a better term. Everyone and their dog still stopped me whenever I was in Douglas to thank me for my bravery and to enquire after my health. During my hospital stay in Chester, the nurses needed a list of approved visitors. Partly to stop the locals from coming in all day to check in on me (i.e. pump me for juicy details) but also to stop the media hounding me... It had worked for a while.

And Tara? She was as good as a superhero in these parts. She'd even successfully applied to the county for more funding for the sheriff's office. Douglas County Sheriff department now boasted a detective part-time on staff.

While everyone chatted, I made the most of the sun, baking myself until I couldn't stand the heat anymore. I slid off the raft and down into the cool waters of the lake. It was like slipping into a cool welcoming glove. My skin prickled upon contact with the water.

I paddled on my back like a jellyfish for a while until I heard the steady strokes of Eric moving to catch up with me. I watched as he swam on past me and rescued a floating log from between some rocks and reeds. He paddled it back to me and we slung ourselves over either end of the old log, staying buoyant.

"Hard to imagine only a few months ago this whole place was covered in snow and basically frozen over," he said.

"It's like another world, isn't it?" The breeze today was mild and warm, strong enough to texture the lake surface but not strong enough to cause whitecaps. The sun caught on the ripples, dashes of bright white against the deep blue of the lake. It was like swimming through a flat, strangely cut gem. Around the lake, green grasses peeked out from between the trunks of pines; and on the far side of the lake, the tall peak of my cabin roof and flat angle of Eric's rental next door was visible from above the trees. It was a perfect world here. Idyllic. Life paused on one of the best parts.

"I've been giving thought to what you said…"

Eric responded simply with a raised brow.

"And I'm going to go back to Shreveport after the summer and pack up the house there. It's time to sell."

"And then what?"

I was communicating better these days, better than I had six months ago. I accepted that whatever my future was, it was going to feature Eric. But what exactly that entailed? I didn't know.

I rested my chin against the log, paddling my legs idly. "I don't know… I can't work pro-bono here forever."

"We could try New York…"

"We could. Or Shreveport."

"That too," he said.

"But if you think this is hot, then the south might kill you."

"I'll just have to be inventive..." He scooted close to me and kissed me. "I'm sure we can find ways to cool me down."

I rolled my eyes and wrapped an arm around his neck. I let him kiss me again. "That makes no sense…" I gasped when we parted. "The opposite of sense." The water around us was going to start steaming if we kept this up.

"I don't care where we are," he said. "As long as I'm right… here…" He nuzzled his chin between my breasts and I groaned, pushing him off.

"You're like a bloodhound. Don't be gross."

He looked up, eyes wide and fully engaged in puppy-mode.

"You're the worst," I grumbled. I pushed his wet hair off his forehead and he smiled at me. His expression was so… so open and unreserved. My stomach flipped. Life on pause. "I love you so damn much," I said.

Eric opened his mouth to speak but our private little interlude was cut off by the sound of a shrill finger whistle.

"Dadgummit!" I heard Jason say. "I regret ever teaching that woman how to do that." Crystal stood at the shore from where she'd whistled, waving Jason in. "Daddy duties await!" Jason said crouched on the raft ready to dive in, but I called out to him, telling him I'd go and help Crystal with the kids instead. It was probably time to swim in anyway, we'd left her with the kids so we could climb the rock about a half hour earlier.

I brushed a kiss on Eric's cheek and swam toward shore, leaving the group to their afternoon antics.

"Sorry," I said, stepping from the water and accepting the towel Crystal handed me. "Got caught up out there reliving the past."

"It's alright. The kids are happy playing." She nodded over to Billy and Mitchell, who were sitting on the pebbly shore in their swimsuits. They were loading and hauling pebbles in their Tonka trucks. "But there's someone here to see you." She leaned close, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I told him to get lost, but he was real insistent."

I sighed and nodded. From over her shoulder, a man stood leaning against the trunk of a pine that towered over the carpark path. An older gentleman, his forehead deeply lined and serious; we caught eyes and he simply nodded. I wrapped the towel around my shoulders and walked over to my belongings. I dried off and pulled on my plain cotton kaftan over my bikini. I slipped into my sandals, taking care to avoid looking at my toes and wandered up to meet the man.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Susannah Stackhouse?" Deep and rough, his voice bottomed out when he spoke my name.

"Depends who's asking," I replied and crossed my arms. He neither flinched nor smiled. My next rebuff, ready and waiting at my lips, suddenly faltered and vanished. His was a different response to the usual sickly sweet pandering I got from journalists, or really anyone trying to chase a story from me.

His hand slipped into his inner coat pocket and retrieved a small business card. Before I realized what was happening, my hand clasped around it.

"Professor Leonard Keene. My assistant has been attempting to contact you over the course of the last several weeks to no avail."

I thumbed the card without glancing at it, opting to hold his gaze, though his eyes were partially obscured by the darkness of his glasses. They were those transition lenses that went darker in the sun. Still, I could tell he was examining me as closely as I was him.

"Professor of what and where?"

"Professor of Psychology at Morton Oakes College, Pennsylvania."

"Can't say I've heard of it."

He finally offered a smile: small, tight and conciliatory. "Most haven't. We are a modestly sized campus."

I finally looked at the card. His details were printed in a neat serif typeface with the college crest taking up a large portion of the card. It was a shield featuring a dove, an eagle, an inkpot and a book in each corner. An odd combination. "Is it one of those for-profit institutes?"

"In a sense."

I wrinkled my nose at his evasiveness. "So why are you looking for me?"

His eyes shifted to scan over my shoulder and then back to me. "A friend of my colleague brought your story to my attention. I'd like to meet with you to discuss how I think we may be able to help one another. How you may be able to help others."

I folded my arms across my chest. It probably looked silly with my wet bikini showing through the fabric, but I lifted my chin, anyway. "It's not my story. The story belongs to those dead girls. To the dedicated law enforcement who helped resolve and bring closure to all their families. It doesn't belong to me. I'm not interested in talking. Or in you getting your kicks learning about how sick Sam Merlotte really was."

"You know that's not why I'm here."

I was lost, or at least searching for the right words, when Eric's hand landed upon my shoulder. He squeezed gently. "Is this guy bothering you, Sookie?" His hand was damp with lake water, moisture seeping through into the fabric.

"No, no…" I said distractedly, glancing slowly between the card and the man before me. "He was just leaving."

Professor Keene gestured slightly, and I handed the card back over to him. He pulled a pen from the same coat pocket and scrawled something quickly onto the back.

"Please consider taking a meeting with me. I'll be in Chester all week staying at the Marriott."

"She's not interested in talking to the media," Eric said, and I could feel him beside me rising up to his full height, shoulders back. Again, the professor didn't flinch or seem to notice the hostility behind the comment.

"I am of the opinion, Ms. Stackhouse," he continued, as if Eric hasn't spoken at all, "that what you experienced was the beginning, rather than a single, extraordinary occurrence. And if what I suspect is true, then you may wish to have people at your side ready and able to guide you in the future." He handed the card back to me, turned and walked back up the path back toward the carpark.

"What was that about?" Eric said when the man disappeared around the corner.

"I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to find out," I murmured. I turned the card over to inspect the back. Scrawled in black pen read: The Keene Gott Institute and underneath, a web address.

"Is there anything I can do? Want me to call Tara over?"

"No, no, it's okay…" I shook my head a little, trying to clear the fog of surprise and confusion.

Eric gently drew me by the shoulders and turned me to face the water again.

"Look, there are beers in the cooler with our names on it and two boys dying to play with their favorite aunt; so come on, funky toes."

"Think you're real clever, huh?" I elbowed him playfully and wiggled my foot at him.

"Oh, I know I'm clever," Eric declared and led us back to the lake.

It was funny that for all that talk of consequences and freaky Latin prophecies, the only consequence I'd really faced after my showdown with Sam was the amputation of my two littlest toes at the first knuckle and one very lucky scar on my abdomen. The blade missed my liver by millimeters. I stared at the card in my hand as we walked and, for the first time, considered the possibility of other consequences I had yet to fully realize.

The moment we got back home from the lake, Crystal declared her need for a nap and disappeared into the guest bedroom. She'd actually confided in me on the day of their arrival at the beginning of summer that she was newly pregnant. Hoping for a girl, Jason had beamed proudly. Jason had been doting on Crystal the whole trip. And so this evening, Jason announced he was taking charge of dinner and grilling steaks, while J.B. and Eric made a mess in the kitchen sorting out the sides. I retreated upstairs, leaving Tara sitting in the yard with a beer watching the kids play with Bonnie.

I stood leaning against the frame of my bedroom window, watching as Billy and Mitchell wrestled out on the lawn and Tara yelled out pointers to them both. The phone, pressed against my ear, rang half a dozen times before my call was finally picked up.

"Oh my God. Hi stranger!" She sounded puffed.

"Hi, Amelia."

"You're not going to believe this, but I was just thinking of you!" I heard some movement in the background of wherever she was, a door shutting, and the ambient sound suddenly diminished to nothing.

"Universe works in mysterious ways, I guess," I said. "Have you got a minute to talk?"

She laughed. "Do you even know me? I always have a minute to talk and then some. Dad has been trying to vet me for this position in the company and it's going predictably bad. Just ugh..." She groaned. "I'm looking for any excuse to escape."

"Well… I need to borrow your ear for a minute." I explained my run-in with the Professor at the lake earlier that day.

"I can't say I've heard of him or the institute. They are out this way, though."

"Well… That's kinda what I figured." Amelia moved back to Philadelphia after the snow season finished up.

"I haven't told anyone!" she said defensively, her words leaping out to fill the silence. "If that's what you're thinking. Other than my coven high priestess, which you already know. Have you talked to Octavia?"

I snorted softly. "She was the first person I called." And she'd had no idea too.

"Have you looked up that web address?" Amelia asked.

I rested my forehead against the glass and resisted the urge to sigh. "No. Kinda feels like tempting fate."

"Alright, how about you read out the address to me and I'll look it up for you? I'll tell you if I think it's legit or not."

I dutifully read out the web address. Amelia was silent for what felt like hours while I paced the hardwood floors of my bedroom.

"He looks like the real deal, Sookie," she finally said after some minutes had passed.

I took a shaky breath. Exactly what I was afraid of.

"It's a research institute. He's the professor of psychology at the neighboring college. Got his PhD originally in abnormal psychology. And the college and this institute? Looks like they collaborate to produce a biannual psychology journal, focusing on para-psychology but nothing too… woo woo, if you know what I mean."

"Not really, no." I walked back to the window, resuming my previous post. Bonnie was now trying to playfully jump on top of the boys and Tara was trying to drag her off, though she laughed loudly while doing so.

"Well," Amelia said, "one article discusses evaluation tools for studying psychic phenomena using empirical evidence, another is looking at EVPs – ya know, ghosts speaking on digital recordings – discussing how it's captured and its legitimacy, another looks at the role of paranoia and anxiety disorders in the incidence of perceived paranormal experiences."

"Alright, alright... Okay." I took a deep breath.

"Wow. He's a bit of a silver fox, too." She let out a low wolf whistle.

"Oh yeah, he's totally got that late 90s Richard Gere vibe going on."

"Are you going to contact him?"

Amelia accepted my silent response for all of three seconds before letting out a sound of exasperation. "That whole time you were dealing with Eurynomos, weren't you looking for someone who had the answers? Well, here is your someone. Someone who could actually help."

"But everything's fine now," I protested. "I don't need help anymore."

"Honestly? Isn't this a no-brainer for you? You might think you don't need help; but to me, it seems like he has answers - or at least more knowledge about the nightmare you went through. And if anyone knows what your future holds well, surely it's going to be someone who studies psychic phenomena for a living."

I thudded my head dully against the glass in resignation. She was right, of course.

Eric and I lay stretched out in bed and sweaty, my head pressed against his bare chest. In one ear, I could hear the steady thump of his heart; in the other, it was the night sounds filtering through the screen door leading to the balcony. Crickets, the warm breeze, the sound of the pine quills gently rushing.

I traced my fingers along the length of Eric's arm. All of his limbs were long, so long; the act was a mini-marathon for my fingertips. They traversed the rise and fall of bicep then elbow joint and then the elongated forearm muscles, moved through a roughened patch of blonde arm hair, then over the rigid bumps of tendons on the back of his hand, and finally his knuckles. Then my fingers turned back the way they came retracing their path back up to his shoulder.

"I can feel you thinking," he mumbled. His eyes were closed, Eric still lost in that sea of post-coitus floating.

"No you can't," I said with a soft laugh.

"I can," he said, sounding slightly more wakeful. "It feels like a thought bubble with a big black scribble drawn inside."

My fingers stopped, and I pinched him lightly.

"Hey, ow!" he said, trying to squirm away. "Play nice!"

"That's funny," I said innocently. "When you wanted to play before, you definitely said nothing about being nice…"

He growled softly and rolled me onto him so we were chest to chest. We were almost nose to nose too. He kissed me and wrapped his calves around mine, locking my legs in place.

"What's up?" he said.

"Is that a trick question?"

He laughed but still managed to give me a stern look.

"Fine… Fine. I'm just thinking about how you liked me and pursued me despite all the seriously effed up crap going on in my life."

"Of course," he said as if there wasn't any other alternative.

"But…" I paused to take a deep breath, to resolve myself. "It's crap that goes so far beyond any acceptable level of new relationship baggage that, that I'm…" I chewed my lip, searching for the right word.

"You're what?" The playful banter from his tone died out.

"I'm wondering when it stops being acceptable?"

"When what stops being acceptable?"

"I'm not explaining myself well." I pushed myself up on my elbow so I could see him better. "I love you, but if Eurynomos was only a taste of things to come, then I completely understand, accept, and, ugh-" I groused, annoyed at my own pragmatism. I really, really just wanted to be selfish. "-–encourage you to go and do your own thing. Without me."

"Sookie…" His brows pinched close together and his hands rose to cradle my cheeks. The crickets continued their chorus through his thoughtful silence and then he finally spoke. "We are having this conversation once – now – and never again. You're it for me, funky toes. 'It' as in The End. Roll credits. Happily ever after. You know that. I know you know that. I would follow you into the depths of hell if I had to. And one day, I'm going to get to you agree to marry me, and even if some bloody demon is the one to walk you down the aisle and give you away, it would still be the happiest day of my life. I need to know you understand. Tell me you understand that."

I opened my mouth to speak but words escaped me. They simply vanished out of existence with a pop. Well. Leave it to my author to render me utterly speechless. So I nodded.

"Good."

We kissed again, his hands on my cheeks gentle yet uncompromising. When we parted, I couldn't help my smile. My heart threatened to split in two, I was so happy. Stupidly happy. I mean, I get it. It's not the kind of heartfelt declaration that you'd see in a rom-com, but it's not often that a man declares he'd follow you into the depths of hell and actually, literally mean it.

"I would do the same for you," I said. "Except I'd be dragging us straight back outta hell, because I know you can't stand the heat."

"Well, that's true. I'm more than happy to let you be my knight in shining armor. I've seen how pro you are at defeating demons." He said it with a knowing grin, and I began laughing knowing exactly where this punchline was headed. "I mean, look at how swiftly you helped me deal with Freyda."

"She's less demon and more … succubus."

"Not nearly so appealing," he scoffed. "More like ice bitch… Vampire queen."

"So, will you come with me to meet him?"

He knew exactly who I was talking about.

"Like you could ditch me that easily," he said.

Early the next evening, we were seated across from Leonard Keene in the small, generically furnished bar of the Marriott hotel.

"I'm honestly surprised you met with me so soon," Keene said. This evening he was sans tie, the top button of his white shirt undone, blazer also unbuttoned. I had a sneaking suspicious this was about as casual as his casual wear got.

I shrugged tersely and took a sip from my soda water. "Well. Better to rip off the band-aid, I suppose. And I reserve the right to leave at any time."

"Of course," he responded reasonably.

"And I'm the one that going to be asking the questions."

"By all means," he said, gesturing with an open hand. "You hold the court. You have control." His face was calm, though his dark eyes were assessing. He wasn't trying to form an opinion of me. Just trying to make sense of me. My therapist had the same expression.

I felt the prickle of tension begin to goosepimple my arms and Eric, perhaps sensing this, began with his own line of questioning.

"How did you find out about Sookie? Who told you?"

"A coven who reside in Philly."

"Any affiliation with Amelia Broadway?" I asked.

"Can't say I'm familiar with every member. The high priestess is Josephine Schultz."

Eric turned to me and I nodded slightly in response. That name was for sure the woman I'd heard Amelia mention countless times before. At least that answered the question of how he found out about me.

"So tell me, what is it exactly that you think you know about me?"

"You moved out to relative isolation after a life-changing event. You were emotionally and mentally vulnerable and came into contact with something otherworldly. Or perhaps you conjured a tulpa."

"A tulpa?"

"The term is Tibetan. It refers to a creation or embodiment of something spiritual brought into being by mental powers."

"Wait… What?" I made a disbelieving sound. "You think it was a figment of my imagination?"

"I saw it. Multiple people saw it," Eric said. He draped his arm around the back of my chair. And it had been damned hard to explain away. Other than Eric and I, Kenya was the only other surviving person to see it. We'd agreed to never speak of it. Never mention it to other. Kenya claimed she planned to never even think about it again. She was deeply shaken. She still refused to look me in the eye. We told authorities that wolves had attacked Sam after he was shot and dragged him into the woods. The fact they found his body a couple miles away deep in the forest, and practically picked clean of flesh, seemed to support that. Not even Tara questioned it.

"A tulpa is a being as real as you or I. It is not a figment of the imagination, per se. It is simply created through one's mind."

"At the time," I began, "I dedicated many, many sleepless nights to thinking about what I was going through…" I took a long sip of my drink, the points of my argument forming in my mind. "I had outside confirmation of what it was before anyone else had seen or experienced it. I saw a listing of the being in an ancient grimoire. The girls' bones in the cave were picked clean it - to me that all suggests that the "being" existed long before I had cause or reason to think about it."

Keene nodded with satisfaction. "I agree. Eurynomos."

I nodded too, though I felt my stomach turn over with nerves. What was it? Hearing that name again? Or the fact someone knowledgeable with some sort of authority on the subject was affirming my experience? I reached down and squeezed Eric's thigh. Amelia was right. This felt big. Useful.

"So what are your motivations for being here?" I asked. "You want me to be some sort of test subject?" I pictured being cooped up in a stuffy office spending weeks detailing my experience, being hooked up to machines while my brain waves were scanned. "I've read a little of the journal you publish... It's very science-based, lots of data analysis."

"I have my work, Ms. Stackhouse, and I have my interests. They appear combined, but they are in fact running quite parallel to one another. One funds the other."

"Okay… So in plain terms?"

"Have you ever seen or read about true-life accounts of possessions or exorcisms?"

I shook my head. "Nothing more than what I've seen in TV and movies."

"I don't mean the over the top Catholicized variety where impressionable young teens dealing with serious mental health issues are denied health care and instead doused with holy water and prayed over. I'm referring to humans who suffer as literal hosts for demons and malevolent spirits."

He opened his wallet and slid across a faded picture of a young boy and girl, the boy was dressed as a cowboy pointing a toy gun at the camera and the girl was in diapers, sitting on the ground with a teddy.

"The baby is my younger sister. She died when she was 15… My parents, they had no idea what was happening, they thought she was having a breakdown but I saw things I couldn't explain. Furniture moving on it own, she spoke in voices that did not originate from her throat, she spoke in riddles… Shared details of things she could not have possibly known. By the time it was clear it was not of this world her body gave out. She died." I picked up the photo and traced my thumb across the infant's face. She was chubby-cheeked, her eyes trained on her smiling brother. "That's what drew my interest in this field. And yes, it's one thing to study it… It's another thing to actually assist the victims."

"I'm not a victim," I said, handing the photograph back. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that.

"No, but I believe you are a very rare specimen, Sookie. You are a medium of sorts. An in-between."

"A conduit…" I murmured and he nodded deeply.

"Yes, a conduit. Rather like a communication rod between life and death." He flipped open his briefcase and retrieved a manila file, placing it on the table between us. "Would you help others, if given the chance?"

"Others… people like your sister?"

"Yes, people like that. Or homes and objects mired down by bad energy from presences unable to move on. Resolve cold cases, assist in the investigations of missing peoples. Help identify John and Jane Does."

"I don't know… I really doubt I can even be much use to you." I shook my head slowly. "I kind of feel like my assistance with the murders relied on a right place at the right time approach."

"Open the file."

I opened the file, inside was a stack of printed notes with a family photo sitting on top. It was one of those professional shots you could get done at department stores. I dated the photo tothe early 90s, purely going off the hairstyles.

"Who are they?"

"Hermanez family. 1989. They died as a result of a fire. The grounds where their home once stood exhibit an incredible amount of ambient electromagnetic fields. We've collected numerous convincing EVPs there also. Local fire investigators ruled the fire accidental, but arson investigative techniques and forensics have advanced significantly since then. Many obvious clues were overlooked. Locals believe it was arson. Their extended family believe it was arson. The home was never rebuilt. And any construction efforts have resulted in catastrophic failure, injury and even loss of life."

I shook my head again and pushed the file back towards him. "I can't. I – I really can't. My experience fucked me up. I couldn't sleep, I could barely function. I was making poor decisions."

He smiled kindly and removed the file from the table, returning it to his briefcase.

"Understandable. But what if you had a team of people working with you? Those who could guide you and ensure your ability was channeled in a healthy manner, within a controlled and safe environment. You would be free to leave at any time, free to extricate yourself from the situation at any point."

I nervously tapped my fingertips against the tabletop. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. This was too much. Too overwhelming. I couldn't think, even just the noise of the bar crowded my ability to form a clear though.

"Sookie, have you wondered the implications of if your experience truly was 'right time, right place'?"

I opened my eyes again and simply blinked at him.

"I don't follow," Eric said.

"What if you stumble into the right place again? Or, as I suspect, you are the right place and things are drawn to you. How will you cope? How will you handle it?"

I pinched my lips shut and shook my head slowly. The thought was chilling. Incapacitating.

"I have the means to help you, Ms. Stackhouse. If you wish to learn only coping strategies, then that is perfectly acceptable. I am happy to assist. And the rest of this?" He patted his briefcase. "This can be secondary. Optional. Entirely up to you."

"And if I do choose to help you? What kind of scenario do you envision?"

"Your time will be paid. I'm a professor and engaged heavily in research, so my time is fairly limited, but I will call upon you for perhaps a week or two here and there throughout the year. I run the institute with another colleague, Miles Gott. Together, we can be flexible and work out a suitable schedule."

Afterward, Eric bought me ice-cream. Double scoop macadamia and white chocolate. For himself, he chose chocolate fudge. We walked the streets of Chester as the sun set.

"I feel like I'm trapped in some weird Fargo-Stranger Things crossover." I couldn't get the image of the family out of my head. Or the thought I would be dragged into more paranormal BS regardless of it I wanted it or not.

"I think you're safe from the Upside Down."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked giving him the side eye.

"Oh, fairly sure."

"Then maybe I just need to move to Minnesota and start looking for a briefcase full of cash." I sighed and threw my soiled napkin into a garbage can as we passed it.

"Maybe we just need to change the narrative? Take control of the story."

"And so how do we do that, Mr. Author?"

"We look for inspiration around us." He grinned and waggled his brows.

"I'm not flashing you in public," I grumbled.

"Well… How about the next best thing?"

He took me by the hand and, despite my protests, walked me to the top of Chester's main street. There, at the bend in the road, lay a small leafy park - one I'd never seen before. He sat me down on a park bench facing the mountain and we watched the sunset project onto Mt. Rayner in shades of orange and pink to an eventual pale twilight blue.

The overwhelming view collected my anxious whirling thoughts and scattered them to the wind. Who knew what would happen? Who knew if my so-called ability would affect me again, or if I'd even be of any use to Leonard Keene and his institute? Maybe this panic was all for nothing. But, then again, what if his warning did come true?

"How's this for a different narrative?" I said, once I found my voice. Eric turned to me, curiosity and the last light of day coloring his handsome features. "I sort out the house in Shreveport, leave it for sale with a realtor. Then we buy a big camper, something cheesy and retro that's going to tick all your wanderlust boxes. Hell, you can even get a dodgy acoustic guitar that you can pretend you know how to play. We make our way slowly back to New York in time for your next launch. We have fun, we sightsee, we fight, we… do other adult things. Then before we hit city limits, we detour and stop by the professor's institute."

"My great American road trip?" Eric's smile was broad and sure.

"Mine and Bonnie's too."

"You know, they say if you want to know how you really feel about someone the best thing to do is take a road trip with them." He brushed my hair back from my cheek, tucking it behind an ear.

"Having second thoughts about my funky toes, Northman?"

"Never." He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me deeply. "And then what?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"You tell me," I said. "How do you finish a story like that?"

He answered immediately. "With a happy ending."

"I don't know, isn't that too cheesy?" I wrapped my arms around his neck, reveling in his warmth and good spirits, reveling in the fact that this was the life I was living. This one right here, where I was loved and alive and the future was there just waiting for us.

"It's not cheesy if it's deserved."

"What even is a happy ending, anyway?" The question was meant to be rhetorical; but to my surprise, I found the answer came easily. "It's a life well lived."

Maybe a happy ending was less about the happy part and more about making the most of every facet of your life, even the not-so-great parts. You know, those parts that include grief and heartache… and even the parts with crazy paranormal encounters.

"Okay," Eric said decisively. "Then let's live it well."

I could do that. It was no longer a hope or an uncertainty or something just out of reach. I could really, truly do that.

THE END

A/N A great big thank you to all the readers that have come along on this journey with Sookie. This really is a bit of an out there story and all of your support and feedback has seriously blown me away. It's hard to believe this story has finally come to an end. One I hope was as satisfying for you read as it was for me to write. Although, must admit I'm feeling a little misty-eyed that it's all over. I'll miss these two.

I'm writing up a storm at the moment. So stay tuned for future updates in my other stories plus a new fic. I love this fandom - so I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.