AN: A little short, but hope you like. Let me know, and enjoy!

Chapter 29

Maria went through her house and gathered Eric's things. There wasn't a lot at her place, but a couple articles of clothing. She felt she should return them.

To those on the outside, it would look like she was dealing with a breakup. Perhaps in some way it was. She didn't see it that way, however. Instead, she viewed it more as the ending it was. Clearly, whatever had happened in the couple of days Eric spent with Sookie affected him deeply enough that, even with his memories back, he wasn't the same man he'd been before. Fine.

It did bother her, despite her outwardly cold attitude, but that didn't matter either. Maria had come to a very sensible conclusion on her walk home. Fuck it. Fuck it all. This was why it was better not to have attachments. Why bother? They don't work out anyway when fay were involved. Fay never played fair.

With a bag of his clothes in hand, Maria returned to Fangtasia. She walked right past the crowd and into the office in the back where Pam sat behind Eric's desk. There was blood smeared across her face. She'd been crying.

"What're you doin' here?" She asked coldly.

"Bringing back his shit." She tossed the bag onto the leather couch.

"Awe, what's the matter?" Pam's voice dripped with derision. "You two have a fallin' out?"

Maria arched a brow at the blonde. "Really, Pam? You wanna go there?"

Pam glared, clenching her jaw in the process. "Fine. Sorry." She sounded the opposite of apologetic, but her tone soon changed. "Have… has he called you?"

"No," she replied emotionlessly. "He's probably buried in fairy snatch right now, why?"

Pam didn't immediately reply. Instead, she looked off to the side, seemingly slipping into her thoughts. A minute passed, nearly two before she met Maria's stare again. She looked over her briefly.

"You stickin' around?"

The question held more than the simple words. Pam was plainly asking if Maria planned to remain at Fangtasia, and not just for her shift. She was asking if Maria intended to wash her hands of Eric and their whole ordeal.

"No," She told her. Maria felt an odd, unexpected twinge in her chest when she did. She noticed Pam's brows tug together. "He canceled our deal." Pam's confusion deepened. "So, I'm leaving. I have no intentions of watching him self-destruct because he's blindly devoted to Sookie. I've already seen that shit happen with my mother and Grigori. It cost me everything once. I plan to learn from my mistakes."

Maria headed for the door and paused only briefly at the threshold. She felt compelled to turn. Pam's eyes were leveled on her.

"Bye,"

There was a heaviness to the word that both women felt. Pam, remaining silent, only gave Maria a subdued nod. With that, Maria left the club entirely.

Instead of feeling free, she felt odd. Wrong, even. She felt wrong, but that didn't stop her from leaving.

Four Days Later

Eric stood in the main belly of the club. The harness attached to his body itched and stung. He didn't like it or the situation he found himself in. Pam was crying. He could tell even without looking at her because he could hear it in her voice, and smell her blood.

"I have spent over a hundred years with you." She said to him. "How can you think I would ever betray you?" He didn't respond. "If you think so little of me, then release me."

A trill of shock rippled down his spine that forced him to turn and face Pam. She still had that sad look in her eyes, but there was a strong determination lingering there, too.

"Do it." She told him harshly.

Eric almost wanted to simply because of her prompting, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't force them past the lump that had formed, no matter how weakly he tried. She seemed to sense the same and her shoulders slumped slightly, as though relieved.

When the moment passed, Eric chose to ask something else.

"What about Maria?"

"What about her?" Pam asked.

"Where is she?"

Pam's expression twisted with mild confusion. "She's gone." She replied.

Cold swept through Eric's body. "What?"

"She left."

"When?"

"After the Moon Goddess."

Eric nodded lazily, more out of expectation than actual desire. It simply happened.

He turned his back to Pam and began his trek to his office to speak with Bill, all the while thinking about Maria. Some part of him, perhaps a foolish part, never thought she'd really leave. He just assumed that it was another fight, a little spat that meant nothing. He should have known better than to challenge her. Maria always called his bluff.

He shouldn't have reacted the way he did to either Pam or Maria. It was a tense situation, just like the one he currently found himself in. He'd lashed out like a child because Maria and Pam both challenged him, but while Pam showed remorse, Maria was still defiant… and right. She'd been right.

The moment they'd saved Sookie and cleaned themselves up, she turned her back on him. When they were finally able to be together, she walked away –just like Maria said she would.

She'd been right about everything.

Tara scampered away while Eric found safety within his ego. Maria would come back like she had last time. She was only gone for a week then returned to Fangtasia. In a few more days, she'd be back and everything would go back to the way it was, at least as much as it could.

A Week Later

People milled around, lingering as they stared at the exhibits. She was no different on the outside, but Maria was far from a casual observer.

She meandered down the wide hall, moving with the tide. There were people speaking in hushed tones, some speaking at their regular volume, and kids complaining everywhere, but it all fell to the background when she spotted the massive portrait.

Behind her sunglasses, tears pricked at Maria's eyes. In front of her was a five-foot by three-foot portrait of her and her family. A gilded plaque fixed to the base of the ornate frame read The Romanov Family 1916.

Her father sat in the center of the group in a crimson, military jacket. His hair and beard were perfectly quaffed and his gaze set firmly, but warmly. Her mother was beside him wearing a soft white dress appropriate of the time, a long string of pearls around her neck, and a small crown atop her head. Her expression was a bit colder, but serene.

The children were arranged around the pair with Maria sitting on the arm of her mother's chair. Olga was next in line, her arm draped over the high back. Tatiana was next, again leaning on the back of their mother's seat. Anastasia was on the opposite side, sitting just off their father's left elbow, and Little Alexi was on the floor holding onto their father's leg. All of the girls were dressed in white gowns, beaded and lace. Maria and Anastasia had small bows in their hair to show their ages. Her mother loved doing that, dressing the two eldest alike and the two youngest the same. She was known for it, in fact.

The portrait was in color which allowed her to see the color of her family's eyes once more. It hurt her to see them staring back at her, hurt worse than she thought physically possible. It wouldn't be long after that picture had been taken that they would be arrested and shortly after that, Maria would wake in a pile of their cold, lifeless bodies pressing down on her. The people in the picture didn't know what awaited them, and she envied them for it.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her father's cross around her neck threatened to pull her down, the necklace around her wrist doing the same.

When the ache in her chest reached a level she could no longer stand, Maria stepped away. The exhibit she'd come to see centralized around her family and their ancestry. Romanovs as far back as Katherine the Great were represented.

Maria continued on and spied a dozen heirlooms that had once been in her very own house: portraits, tea sets, silver, and statuary. In the west wing, she even found some of her mother's jewelry, pieces that had been handed down from both sets of grandparents, her Russian ancestors and her German ones. Given each was a branch of royalty, the pieces were centuries old.

And none of them belonged in a fucking museum. They belonged in the Romanov family.

There was a sudden and sharp crackle just before a voice came over the speakers.

A smooth female voice said, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to recent developments, the museum will be closing before sundown. In the next ten minutes, please make your way to the nearest exits. Thank you."

There was another crackle that bookended the announcement. Maria, along with the throngs of people, headed for the exits.

After the bombing of the True Blood factories, more and more businesses had been closing early. It reminded Maria of a horror movie, The Purge. Every night was Purge night now, so everyone with a pulse had to do everything they could to make sure they were inside a home before the sun set. It was only five o'clock in the afternoon, but darkness would fall in an hour and a half.

As the clocks ticked closer and closer to midnight, the world had gone, mostly, silent. There were still people walking about, but they were the sort of people who knew what to expect. And the majority of them were dead. Any 'sensible' human had already barricaded themselves inside somewhere leaving those seeking a bit of danger, Fangbangers basically, to prowl for their next vamp.

At least, that's what it was like in normal cities. She wasn't in a normal city anymore.

The glass gave way with a delicate, but satisfying crack. It opened a hole big enough for her to slide her body through with ease. As tenderly as she could, with her bag tied tightly to her back, Maria did just that.

The small ledge helped her navigate the open space with ease. Her footing was sure, quick, and silent.

Dim lights illuminated her way. In less time than it would take for a traffic light to turn green, she stood over the wing that held everything she wanted. Through her dark glasses, Maria could see the glittering trinkets of her family heirlooms hidden beneath a sheet of glass. In the background she heard the distant footfalls of the night security guard. He was far enough away. Maria knew she'd have seconds at best.

She took a deep breath and leapt down from her perch roughly twenty feet above. She landed almost silently and darted instantly to her family's jewels. She guided the bag that had been slung around her back to her front. After removing a glove, Maria dragged her claws across the sheet of thick, tempered glass that protected the pieces and, reaching back far, she slammed her fist into it. The sheet of glass shattered in a loud cascade, trickling to the tile floor beneath it.

She instantly began to scoop out the pieces, dumping them gracelessly into her bag while the alarm blared loudly. In the distance, she could hear the guard racing toward her. He was fast, but she was faster, and before he could round the corner, she was gone. On her way out, Maria smashed another, thinner glass case, retrieved the coronation album from within, and vanished.

Running on her toes, she darted easily through the floor plan she'd walked through a few hours prior. Within seconds, she was in the main belly of the museum where she'd made her entrance. Maria ran for the column and leapt up as far as she could. She managed to dig her fingernails into some of the ornate molding, used it to heave herself up, and was on the landing once more within seconds. She dove through the hole she made in the window and ran from the screaming building.

The night helped shield her as she ran through the park. The thick canopy of trees all but ensured not a single hint of exterior light could pierce it. Because of that, it made the orange glow of the streetlamps that lined the park's walkways easy to avoid.

Maria didn't slow down until she reached the corner of East 79th, and Lexington Ave. On the way, she torn off her dark glasses, the black balaclava she'd worn, and her gloves. She stowed them in her bag where she'd since put the coronation album along with the jewels. As she walked, she tugged up her long sleeves, and removed the tie that kept her long hair in a bun.

A flash of yellow caught her eye. Maria turned, threw her hand into the air, and whistled loudly. The cab pulled up to the corner and she slipped inside.

"So?" The burly man behind the wheel asked with a short, clipped tone.

"8th Ave. The Wyndham." She told him plainly.

"Yup," He said. He proceeded to turn on the meter, pulled into traffic, and set off toward the hotel.

They made the journey lazily, following the ebb and flow of the other hundred cars with them. So many people…

As they reached another in a seemingly endless line of red lights, Maria's phone began to ring. Two people had the number and that knowledge instantly put her in a bad mood. She didn't even look at the screen when she answered, something she shouldn't have done.

"What?" She said into the receiver.

There was a brief hesitation on the other end of the line. "Where are you?"

His voice was emotionless, cool and calm, but it still sent a chill racing down her back.

"Why?" She asked harshly.

Half a minute passed before Eric spoke again. "Where are you?" He repeated, though this time something else touched his voice. It had dipped just enough to bother her.

Before she could answer, the cabby pulled up to her hotel. "We're here." He called to her over his shoulder.

"Who's that?" Eric asked with a growl.

Maria ignored him. She dug into a zipper pocket of her bag, waved a card over the device on her side of the partition. It dinged, signifying her payment. It asked if she wanted a receipt, she pressed no, and promptly exited the cab.

"What do you want, Viking?" She asked as she crossed the sidewalk and entered the building. Without pausing, she headed for the elevators.

"Are you safe?"

"I'm not in Louisiana, if that's what you want to know." She kept her tone light, but with an undeniable edge of annoyance.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Inside, she pressed the button for her floor and promptly sailed high into the air. She'd made it up six floors and still Eric hadn't spoken. Maria arched an annoyed brow.

"What. Do. You. Want." She repeated, stressing each word to show how much she didn't want to be having her current conversation.

Maria continued on her trek when she made it to her floor, walked down the hall, and to her door. She slid the plastic key into the slot and stepped inside. The weighted door closed behind her.

"Nothing," He finally said.

Her brows tugged together and the next sound to meet her ear was one of nothingness. It wasn't the silence of an open line. Instead, it was simply nothingness that told her there was no call. Sure enough, when she drew her phone back, the call had ended.

She didn't know what to make of the situation and chose to simply ignore it. Shaking her head, she tossed her phone onto her bed, slid off her bag and set it gently beside the device before she approached her wide window. A sense of accomplishment filled her as she stared at the New York City skyline.

Within the bunker hidden so far below ground it would be forever cold, Eric leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees. The cellphone he'd stolen was pressed to the underside of his chin. He was surprised he managed to get a call out in the first place, let alone that it lasted as long as it did, but it came to nothing. He didn't know what he expected.

Maria wasn't warm or welcoming, nor did he think she should have been. Ever since his mind cleared, and he was forced to realize that he was in a nest of insanity, Eric thought often of Pam and Maria. He'd left things badly with them both. Angry words and threats of violence, that would be their memory of him.

Pam would understand. She'd have to, really. She'd been with him long enough to survive his temper tantrums and as his Progeny, they shared a bond deeper than most. Maria was something different. They'd been together for a good while, but the majority of their time together had been peaceful. They didn't have the same connection he did with Pam, or had they been through enough for her to know he hadn't meant the attitude. As a result, Eric was aware he may have caused irreparable damage.

As he sat there, staring at the stark, ugly floor that stretched out before him, Eric clenched his fist. His fingers easily broke the cellphone. Pieces of cheap plastic rendered useless clattered to the floor in a soft cascade. He opened his hand to allow the rest to tumble free, too.