AN: Eric and Sookie POV in this Chapter.

Charlaine Harris owns Sookie and Eric. I wish she would write E/S this quickly. We'd have the real Book 10 (not the short story compilation) in time for the Holidays.

Santa Cruz & Woodside c. 1979 Part 1

P1. The Return

Selah was perched on the arm of a chair in our living room. The view from the front of the house, visible through the windows, showed the ocean expanse across West Cliff Drive. Our house was not one of the largest, but inside it had been extensively refurbished by her parents as a wedding gift. Selah was framed against the wall of glass to advantage, the unimpeded view highlighting her voluptuous figure. I still detested her.

We had been advised over the Christmas holidays by our companions in Hohn to not return. It appeared that an unholy storm not seen in recent memory was rapidly advancing on the area. Its predicted aftermath would shut down access to the project for several weeks. Everyone was wondering if this storm was a precursor to many such upheavals as greenhouse gases collected at the poles. We all agreed our research could provide the answers when we finished collecting the first rounds of data in six years. If we were correct, fossil fuels were responsible for the preliminary information starting to trickle in hinting at global temperature changes. It was revolutionary stuff. I felt assured my Ph.D. was in the bag. I'd already had four papers accepted for publication by prestigious journals from just the preliminary findings. I could easily envision the outline of my first book.

"Selah, I'm leaving for the store. We need to stock up. I will stop off and pick up some gear for my dive tomorrow with Clancy and Felicia. Catch you later."

We'd been back in the house only long enough to unload from the trip back from Tiburon. I was eager to get away. She did not bother to turn around or even pretend she cared if I left. It was all a painful charade. After a week with my family, I had only been able to tolerate a few days with hers. Not having Sven around as a buffer made it nearly impossible to be in the same room with her. I resolved to call him as soon as she was out of the house later today. We'd party at his house in Woodside until I was able to fly back to Iceland to wrap up my research in Hohn. Then, I'd have a year of teaching and complete my dissertation. I'd already worked a deal with UC Berkeley; I was very welcome as my generous research funding was assured for many years. I also doubted the University was immune to the lure of closer ties to my family's money to line their coffers.

I started up my gray Volvo 240 wagon and headed into town. It was almost a mandatory vehicle in my town. Most days, though, I still missed the red Corvette I had driven for several years.

Santa Cruz was a sleepy little beach town. I was eager to leave its confines and move to Berkeley. Maybe to ease the transition I'd move into Sven's house in Woodside when I returned from Iceland in a few months, I mused. After what I had witnessed of her sexual predilections these past few months, surely all Selah would wish to do would be to divide up the money and go on her merry way. A small smile played across my lips. Perhaps it was finally time to get my personal life sorted out. I'd be free to enjoy all Northern California had to offer. I lit up a joint, my first in days, popped Led Zeppelin into the eight-track player and listened in surprise as 'Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You' blasted through the speakers. Was it fate? I concentrated on my driving for the brief trip past the Boardwalk area to the farmer's market I favored. I had a lot of errands to prep for the dive tomorrow. Maybe later I'd break out a board.

When I returned, Selah's Austin was gone from the garage. I unloaded, ate the lunch I'd picked up at the market, checking my personal mail for university business. Finding nothing pressing, I settled in to place a call to Sven. My parents knew he had taken off to Barbados for the holidays. We had all speculated he had a new lover he was wooing. Wondering if it would be a woman this time, I dialed and waited while the phone rang. Answering machine.

"Bro' when you get this, call me. I'm driving into Oakland tomorrow and will stay the night at your place. If I don't hear from you, I know where you keep the key. No worries, I'll stay out of your way if you have company. I'm bringing my bag. Might extend my stay. You know why."

Time to prep for the dive tomorrow morning. When I left the house tonight, I'd stay on the boat and be ready for the five a.m. departure with my companions. It would be a full day with the drive into the City and across the Bridge to meet with my future colleagues. I didn't expect to return to Sven's house much before dinner. If he was around, I'd take him over to the Diner in Davenport. Lots of atmosphere I'd been missing. I wondered if we'd run into Hunter S. Thomson, the great Rolling Stone writer. He continued to frequent the area although the Angels could still be found in pockets around the foothills and he lived in fear they'd catch him alone again some day. Maybe we'd take the Harleys and make a run at night up the coast into the City, listen to some jazz. I'd have to remember to braid my hair as I'd let it grow again last year. It now was as long as it had been during my senior year at Stanford. I reflected the last five years had not changed me much physically. I'd also managed to remain very fit and trim with all the hiking I'd done over the glaciers last year.

The day passed quickly, but no word from Sven when I left the next day after lunch to drive to Bezerkeley. I decided to swing by his house to check if he'd returned. It would only add about a half hour to the trip.

The house appeared to be deserted when I pulled into the back entrance. I grabbed my bags, checking for his hounds first. I'd decided I might spend at least a week with him and maybe meet with a lawyer about filing for a separation.

Dogs must be at the kennel. I dropped off the bags and left a note propped up on his bed.

Lover, missed you in Napa. Staying a few days. Back tonight. 'E'.

I chuckled at the thought of his latest conquest reading the note and wondering. I began to feel a little more like myself away from the grind that was Selah and her obvious dislike. If I was free of her, there were some loose ends I might check out. I pointed the Volvo up the 101 to Oakland, first depositing my leathers in the garage by my bike I was storing at his place. I was feeling a little lighter as I thought about some intriguing possibilities once I was free. Would she still be interested? I mused. I had a strong suspicion she would not be married. It should be easy to locate her family in St. Louis.

P2 Post-Barbados

The travel back to San Jose from Bridgetown had been a grueling fourteen hours: first a stop in Jamaica, then a change of equipment in Miami, followed by a layover in Dallas. I was sick of American Airlines when we finally deplaned and ready to ask Sven to change his travel agent. He didn't appear much happier and I knew he wouldn't bother to control his temper when he finally returned to the office. For now, though, we had a few days to savor our memories of the most amazing trip. We'd decided to spend them holed up in his house in Woodside again. I'd gradually move my minimal furnishings into storage and sublet my place in San Mateo until the lease ran out. I had enough clothes and other items to last for a few days. I also had to begin prepping to finish up my last few terms. I was eager to graduate and find employment. "Sookie, this is the happiest you have been in…." I thought a minute. When had I last been happy? At least five years, but it didn't bear thinking about the specific circumstances.

When we had first arrived in Barbados, we rented a Mini Moke to travel leisurely around the island. Everywhere we stopped, the locals had swarmed us, offering their congratulations at our newlywed status and touching us for good luck. After a few days, we'd decided to take a break and chartered a boat to take us around the less populous side of the island. It had been a secluded and idyllic setting. Luckily I was on the pill, or I would certainly be another example of a woman getting knocked-up on her honeymoon, though I hated that term.

After yet one more case of being ferried around, this time via taxi from the airport to our house, Sven finally produced the key from its hidey hole by the door and we were inside. It was almost six. The sun sets early in the winter in Northern California, but we didn't need to turn on the lights just yet. While we took a few minutes to relax and drop our bags off in the laundry area, shutting the door behind us, Sven was eager to drive over to Atherton to pick up some dinner. We rushed and were out the door in twenty minutes. I thought my husband might have been eager to do some driving himself. He was just too dominant to like being at anyone's mercy for anything, even something as insignificant as we had just experienced. I wrapped my hand around his bicep, gave him a squeeze, and looked forward to returning home and sleeping off the effects of the trip.

I was just so very content. Life was about as perfect as it could be. I resolved to call my friend Claudia, now working as a C.P.A. in San Diego. Sven and I could take a weekend trip south to visit her, maybe in a week or two. I thought Claudia lived in La Jolla, but I wasn't certain. I'd suggest it to him tomorrow. I also wanted to meet some of his friends. We'd been so wrapped up in each other, plus busy with his work and my program obligations, we'd neglected our social lives. As he was now my spouse, we would have time to include others in our circle. I'd met his business partners a few times, but Sven needed to stay active in the financial community to maintain his contacts. We'd start by having a party to announce our marriage, I thought happily.

A party also would be a good opportunity to meet his family. I knew they were very clannish and wondered how they'd taken to the idea of a new daughter-in-law not of their faith. At that moment, I impulsively decided I'd become a Mormon if that would make it easier for them to accept me. I brightened. Maybe I'd finally see Eric with Selah next summer and discover the source of her attraction. After all, she had been intimate with both brothers, just as I had. Not that I really cared all that much.

I'd deal with it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'd talk to the Sven about the party. We ordered, then sat contentedly, holding hands and not saying much.

"Would you be ok with having a party at your house next weekend?"

He looked at me with tired eyes, as if I'd just grown a second head.

"It could be an announcement, or a celebration. Won't your parents and Tara and her husband want to meet me? I know Eric and Selah have returned to Iceland by now, but I have some Stanford friends I could invite and you have your partners and their wives." I trailed off as I attempted to gauge his expression. After spending two weeks exclusively with him, I was surprised to see he still had the ability to shield his reactions from me.

"Does this mean you don't wish to have a party?" My voice sounded a little hurt, but I couldn't help it. What was wrong with my idea?

"Susannah, the party is a very good idea."

That's it? "Ok, hon, when would you be ready to give it? Just something casual, not catered or anything. You know I can cook, right?"

"Tonight, let's just stay in this little cocoon we made for ourselves in Barbados. Just one more night of you and me. The real world will intrude soon enough. I just wish to savor this time remaining with you for as long as possible. I love you, Sookie." He looked very sad, but I took it for exhaustion. He was so precious to me. I said the only thing I could think of at that moment. "Not as much as I love you." I smiled to show the depth of my feelings and he leaned over to kiss me passionately. I immediately felt better. We could talk about a party later this week when we both had recovered and resumed our regular routines.

We finished our dinner in a companionable silence, enjoying our meal and speaking only softly of mundane matters.

When we returned from dinner around nine, there was a light on in the kitchen neither of us could remember turning on. We'd laughed about it, but our mutual exhaustion had quickly pulled us into bed. I was talking when I turned down the spread, teasing Sven that he probably would be so wiped out he'd sleep through most of tomorrow. He agreed, and in a few minutes we were snuggled into one another's arms under the covers.

I thought I heard a car door slam a few hours later, but fell back asleep without bothering to wake fully and check. I'd be getting up early in the morning to make breakfast for Sven. I didn't want to risk waking him over an imagined sound when I knew he was so tired. We'd probably spend our first day back screwing. I couldn't wait.

P3 The Reveal

Eric was staying in the bedroom at the furthest corner of the house. The smell of bacon frying permeated the fog in his head from last night's activities. He recalled he'd decided to drive into Redwood City, eventually locating a biker bar he remembered off of 280. Bored, he had too much to drink on too little food. He'd realized his error and left his car at the bar, calling a taxi to drop him back in Woodside at the house. He and Sven could pick up the car later.

He rose, hit the bathroom for a very satisfying pee, and pulled on a pair of navy gym shorts that rode low on his hips, just in case it wasn't his twin making breakfast. He noticed he had usual morning wood, clearly visible in the shorts. It would be difficult to hide, considering his size. He walked to the kitchen anyway.

Unshaven, hair rumpled, and eyes still a little bleary, he stood in the kitchen doorway to see the back of a very curvy woman with honey-colored long blonde locks reaching nearly to her waist bent over the stove. She was dressed only in what was clearly just a filmy top that barely covered her cheeks. This was going to be fun. At least it was a woman this time, he smiled to himself.

He cleared his throat as he didn't wish to startle her. "Good morning, my dear", he rumbled.

She spun around, confusion the overriding expression on her face, followed by shock. He blinked and sat down heavily on the nearest chair. He too felt stunned. She looked just like Sookie, if a little older. Where had Sven found her? Did he know about the resemblance or was it just a coincidence?

"Eric?" she stuttered. "We thought you had returned to Iceland with Selah." She continued to look confused.

They both realized that she wasn't wearing enough clothing at about the same time, he thought, judging by her expression. She blushed and turned around to head back to the bedroom, probably to grab a robe.

"I see you've met my new wife, little brother. What do you think of Sookie now?" Sven stood in the hall, naked as usual. His voice sounded normal, but his expression was uncertain. "We've just returned from our honeymoon in Barbados. Care to congratulate us?"

Without hesitation, the bitter words flowed from his mouth: "Does she know about your former boyfriend, Max?" He rose and walked closer to Sven. "Did you tell her about the three years you two kept house in the Castro district?" He continued to advance on Sven. "Did you tell her you were basically a divorced man on the rebound when you met her?" He didn't know if all of what he had said was true, but damn it had felt good saying it.

There were several moments of silence when neither of the three moved. Eric could only barely see Sven's stricken face through the red fog of his rage. He reached out to tear Sven's head from his shoulders, his muscles corded in his arms and neck in his pain and anger. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement; Sookie had dropped the turning fork she was holding and sat down on the nearest chair.

This time, it was Sven's turn to carefully place Sookie's cover-up on the counter and turn to walk though the door and out of the room. In the silence that followed, both clearly heard the front door slam and the sound of a car engine, eventually receding in the distance. Eric did not say "Uh-oh". Instead he felt an extreme wave of nausea begin in his bowels and rise towards his throat, nearly choking him. He stumbled towards the kitchen sink, and let loose the contents of his stomach. He noticed and dismissed the fact that his bile was bloody again. He kept his head over the sink for a few minutes, letting the cool water run over his face. When he stood back up, Sookie was no longer in the room and the bacon had been thrown in the trash.

Shit. He loved Sven. What the fuck had come over him? Had he ruined Sven's life? But what the fuck was he doing married to her? He had loved her too, once.

AN: Still several more chapters to go.

I shoved all the gremlins in the bathroom and locked the door. Now what?