Disclaimer: I only own my own creations, but love to play in the True Blood world.

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and followed this story! This is my first fanfic ever, and I was really nervous about giving this a try, but felt this love story deserved a proper ending.

So again, thanks for your continued support…enjoy (but you might want a Kleenex)!

Chapter 3

Los Angeles, 2027

Eric POV

Time seemed to slow down. I felt myself falling to my knees as an indescribable pain coursed through my entire body. The source? My bond with Sookie. As my brain registered what was happening, her name fell from my lips without me realizing it. I was vaguely aware of Olivia asking me a question, but I barely noticed she had spoken. In the length of a single heartbeat, I was on high alert. I immediately began mentally dissecting the pain and feelings coming through the bond. Was it physical or emotional? I could not tell. Our bond was a fragile thing. If only we had bonded more fully, I would be better able to understand what was going on.

I ignored Olivia's question, and by proxy, Olivia herself. I have no time to try and explain the complicated story that was my "former" relationship with Sookie. I need answers, and I need them right now!

"Eric, what in the world is going on?" Olivia asked with obvious concern in her voice.

I stood up, and answered somewhat more rudely than intended, "Someone is in terrible distress, and I need a moment. I'm sorry." I added, "It might be best if you leave." I could tell she was not happy with my response, but I really couldn't find it in myself to care at the moment.

"If that's what you want, then fine. I'll go," she answered with a huff as I heard the door close behind her.

I was already on my cell phone dialing Pam's number. She answered on the first ring. "Eric! What's happened? Are you ok?"

"I am fine. It wasn't my pain you felt. That's why I'm calling. I need you to contact Willa immediately. There's something wrong with Sookie." I thought my child would have a sarcastic comeback, but apparently even she could tell this was not the time.

Pam replied, "Give me five minutes, and I'll call you right back."

I responded with something akin to a low growl, as my obvious frustration made its way to the surface. The line went dead before I had the chance to actually reply.

I began to pace the floor of my apartment, because I didn't know what else to do. My brain began running through several scenarios that might explain what was happening...and none of them were good. If the pain she was experiencing was physical, then my hope was that Willa or Jessica could get to her quick enough to heal her (if needed). If the pain was emotional, then that was a different matter altogether. Either way, I hadn't felt pain of this magnitude since Sookie delivered Compton his final death. I send a silent prayer to the gods of my former human life that Sookie has not been dealt another unbearable loss. I can't help but think that the loss of her child or husband would easily explain what I have been feeling from her. I hope that I'm wrong. For once, I'm actually hoping that some errant vampire was dumb enough to hurt Sookie...because that's something I know I can help with. Dealing with human emotion is not my strong suit.

Every minute that has ticked by waiting for Pam's call, has felt like an eternity. "Why hasn't she called back yet?!" I scream at my empty apartment. Just as I'm about to call Pam myself, my cell phone comes to life and I answer the call in the blink of an eye, without bothering to look at the caller id.

"Is she ok?" The words were out of mouth before I could sensor myself. If I'm being honest, it's all I really cared about anyway.

"She who?" I hear in response.

"Olivia, I don't have time for this," I manage to grit out.

"Eric, I was only calling to apologize," she says.

"NOT NOW" I yelled as I hung up.

I stared at the phone. The moment the call disconnected, I saw the image of my child appear on its screen, and I immediately hit 'accept'.

Knowing how upset I was, Pam got right to the point. "Sookie is alive. She was not harmed. But Eric, the news isn't good."

Bon Temps, 2027

Sookie POV

I've often heard from people's minds when they suffer a great loss that they feel numb to the experience. Their minds process what is happening around them, but it doesn't really feel like they are actually a part of their surroundings. It's almost like they're drifting above each scene as it plays out, watching themselves (in some cases) as each minute passes by...picking up details from here and there, but with no real focus.

At least, that's how I feel right now. I'm sitting in my home, in my living room, in my favorite chair, while Andy Bellefleur talks on his radio to the Louisiana State Police. I don't know how long he's been here, or even when Jason and Bridgette showed up. There's a knock on the door, I think, and I hear the voices of Jessica and Hoyt, but all I can think about, is how badly I need to replace the rug in here, and how soon I can get a plumber to come fix the drip from the kitchen sink.

You see, I've been staring at a faint red stain on the rug in front of me for a while now. It's not what you think...it's not blood. Ella and some of her friends were over having a pizza party a few years ago, and someone dropped a slice on the rug. No matter how hard I tried, I could never seem to get that stain to come out. And the drippy faucet? Well that had been on my husband's 'honey do' list for weeks...and now he won't be around to fix it.

I wonder if this is what shock feels like? I suppose when someone tells you that your husband has been killed in an accident, struck by a drunk driver, that shock would be a normal response. Being told he likely was killed on impact, doesn't really make much of a difference...although it may mean he died quickly and therefor painlessly. That's something, at least.

As I've been sitting here, contemplating the spot on the rug, I had thrown up every wall I could muster, to block the thoughts of those around me. Focusing on Jessica's silent mind was helping a bit, but then Andy's thoughts started infiltrating my mind again. I could hear him running the details of the crash site through his head, and heard when his thoughts suddenly jumped to Ella, and how his Addy would feel if it were him that had been killed.

Ella.

I hadn't called her yet. I wasn't sure that I could, if I'm being honest with myself. How do you tell your daughter that her father is dead? The father that had been there for her since day one…her number one fan, and one of the few people that accepted her as she was. That was always his strength…his ability to accept everyone, flaws, quirks and all. That's one of the things that made him such a great counselor. You always knew you had a friend in him.

I quickly cover my mouth to cover the unexpected laugh/smile that erupted at my unintentional Toy Story reference. I don't know what's wrong with me, I should not be able to find anything funny at a time like this. I think I may be losing it. The onlookers must have thought I was starting to cry, because I was suddenly surrounded by friends and family. They must have taken it as a sign that the truth was finally sinking in. It wasn't, not fully at least. Logically, I knew what they told me. I knew he was dead. It just didn't feel real to me.

I was tired and in so much pain. It was a pain so intense that it stopped feeling like anything. Can a person feel so much pain that they eventually stop feeling? All I want to do is to curl up in our bed, until I remembered that it is just my bed once again, and I couldn't bear the thought.

Jason asks me if I want him to call Ella. She lives in New Orleans and works as a child psychologist. Having telepathy can be a great asset when working with non-communicative children. The irony is though she appears to be a woman is her mid-twenties, she is actually a child herself (chronologically speaking). We would be celebrating Ella's tenth birthday in a few months. Most ten-year-olds want electronics or a new bike. Our daughter wants a new briefcase and some work attire.

I think about all the milestones we shared with our daughter in the past ten years, and I realize my husband was around for quite a bit. Childhood (however short), high school, college graduation, and her first job. He got to watch her grow up to become a beautiful woman. Then my heart starts to break all over again, as I think about him missing out on walking her down the aisle, meeting his grandchildren, and growing old with me.

I politely wave Jason off, and tell him I will call and talk to Ella. News like this should come from her mother.

I grab my cellphone from where I had left it on the coffee table, and make my way to Ella's old room. I dial as I sit down on the edge of her bed, knowing this will be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

"Hi Mom!" she says when she answers.

"El." (I clear my throat and try again.) "Ella, baby. It's Mom."

"Yeah, I know. Caller ID. Is everything ok? You sound weird."

"No baby, it's not. It's your dad." I take a very deep breath, and try to muster the strength to get through the next two minutes.

"Dad? Is he ok?" I can her the fear in her voice, and I hate to have to be the one to confirm it.

"He was heading home from Monroe tonight, when he was hit by another car that ran through a red light. They think the driver may have been passed out drunk at the wheel. Your daddy didn't have time to avoid him, it all happened so fast." I could her Ella crying, and it tore my heart out.

"But he's still ok, right?" she asked. This was the moment I was dreading. How can I say what I have to? Saying it will make it real.

"Oh Ella. I'm so sorry, he's not. He died." The only sound I hear is the sound of her weeping, and in that moment, I finally let myself weep along with her.

We hang up eventually, after I arrange to have someone drive her home. We agree that we'll talk tomorrow.

I drop my phone to the floor. I close my eyes and let the darkness take me. I don't even wake when someone comes and covers me up as I sleep on Ella's bed.

Los Angeles, 2027

Eric POV

Pam finishes telling me the details of the accident that claimed Sookie's husband. The pain I had been feeling initially has changed. The pain is there still, but it is shrouded in so much sadness and despair. I know that feeling. I felt it myself when I lost my family, then Godric and Nora. It took only a moment for me to reach a decision.

"Pamela, how soon can you have your jet ready for a flight to Shreveport?" I demand.

"I'll contact my pilot immediately. We should be able to leave in a few hours. Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked with her signature eyebrow raised.

I respond with, "I'm more sure of this than I have been of anything in years."

A/N: Thanks again for your support, please continue to review! I will try to keep posting at least one chapter a week going forward(maybe more:)