AN: CH is the rightful owner. Always. E/S POV here.

Mariaterese has taken time to edit this chapter and once again her suggestions were dead on! Thank you.

Woodside c. 1979 Spring Break

P1.

The last few months had been challenging beyond imagination. She was a new wife, was finishing up her M.B.A. while searching for a job, had a bushel basket of new in-laws to assimilate, at least one of whom clearly did not like her, had moved into a new house, was planning for a trip home so new husband could meet the relatives, was playing hostess for new husband's clients and partners, and was tiptoeing around living in the same house with a former lover who she felt certain still wanted her. All she needed was vampires nesting down the block and werewolves living over the garage to complete her life.

To top it off, her new spouse was very emotional of late, if a little distant physically. He was also wildly generous, kind-hearted, and eager for her to succeed, doing everything he could to support her efforts to rise above it all. He sucked at laundry, unfortunately. With Sven's family now feeling free to treat the house as a brief way station between Salt Lake, L.A., and cities further north, and what looked to be a semi-permanent houseguest in her mercurial brother-in-law going through a tough divorce, they'd had to bring on some household help. So, even more people were around, all-the-time.

She fondly remembered when she lived alone with her mom during the summers after her parents divorced, purposely dismissing from her mind the sadness and despair her mother had continuously voiced about her change in circumstances. But she could not forget that her mother had known the split was coming for some time, maybe more than a year before it happened. She'd never told Sookie or Jason. With some distance, Sookie had been able to see that her mother's actions, erratic at best in that difficult twelve months leading up to the announcement of the split, were her means of denying the inevitable.

As she thought about it some more, Sookie just couldn't remember a time now when her Mom had not been bitter about women's options in today's world. After the divorce, Pam had settled into working at a low-paid job, convinced it was all she could 'handle'. She also appeared to have given up on the prospect of ever finding herself in another steady relationship. The incongruity between what she had always demanded for Sookie's future, 'independence, a professional degree and no early marriage that would handicap her potential', which was no doubt based on Gran's prodding when she was alive, versus what she herself had settled for these days was lost on her.

So, she rather sadly acknowledged that Pam's downgraded living conditions, exacerbated by her relentless squandering of a comfortable inheritance from Gran, were one reason Sookie was eager to graduate and begin earning a decent salary. She was anticipating sending her mom a significant sum of money every month that would improve Pam's life. It was a responsibility she was eager to take up. If neither Jason nor her dad would help, she could do it. She could at least fulfill her mother's ambitions for her.

Sookie had not mentioned this plan to rescue her mom's finances to Sven. It seemed to her careful review of things that he was also shouldering some family responsibilities. He'd offered to pay for his half-brother Joran's apartment in Redwood City so he could start his M.L.A. program mid-year. This had been necessitated by Ander's refusal to accept Joran's decision to not follow him into the business world. Since Joran would not comply with his father's directive, while his education would not be denied him, as punishment he would have to cover his own expenses. She had learned that his trust fund monies were not his to control until he turned twenty-five, so Sven had offered to help, meanwhile leaving no doubt he did not want Joran living with them. She'd so far avoided examining what she suspected some of Sven's reasons for his decision might be.

She also suspected that her brother-in-law's divorce bills were climbing due to the rising costs of discovery. In retaliation for the perceived insult to his daughter, Selah's dad was using the process to look into as much of the Nordmon family's business interests as possible under the pretext of determining Eric's net worth. The Mitchelson law firm did not come cheaply; the resultant invoices as they maneuvered to prevent the disclosure of the Nordman family financial assets were another expense that Sven was helping Eric cover.

She was only mildly relieved that she was not a drag on Sven as her consciously modest expenses were still covered by her inheritance and the paid internship he had assisted her in finding. There was a small chance it might lead to a good position. However, both she and Sven were disgusted that the financial world was still resistant to opening its doors whole-heartedly to women. She knew of several men without either her ranking or her achievements who already had secured multiple offers. Of course, she also had to admit they had strong social connections. So far, she had resisted using the Nordmon name on her job inquiries, but if the freeze-out continued, she might be forced to re-apply under her married name.

The phone's ringing had been going on for some time now. She raced over to pick up. Maybe she and Sven could go out by themselves tonight for dinner. It was Sven, but not good news.

"I won't be coming home tonight until much later. Can you and Eric pick up something for me to eat and bring it back? I'll heat it up when I get home."

From her perspective, not a great idea. "Again? Darn. How long before you make it home? I miss you already."

"Too late to do more than climb into bed for a few hours and race out in time to make a ten o'clock appointment down South in the morning. I'll have to catch a commuter flight down to LAX to make it. After the appointment, I have another meeting with some potential investors, then a dinner slash presentation. I should be able to make the last midnight flight back. Barring any flight delay, it will be around three in the morning before I can put key to lock in our front door tomorrow night, or really the next day. I'm sorry, Sookie. I love you."

Now seemed a good time to bring up what had just been bothering her. "I wonder if you are not pushing yourself to the point of collapse. When was the last time you took a day off to go sailing, or play squash for a couple of hours?" No answer. "Would you like for me to fly down with you? We could stay overnight and make our way back via car along the coast? It would give you a chance to relax while I drove. Please say yes? I love you, too."

She could tell he was hesitating. His answer, when it came, was delivered in warm tones indicating how much he appreciated her offer. But he still turned it down, promising they would take some time off after she graduated.

That was how once again she found herself eating dinner in the local restaurant by the commuter train station in downtown Palo Alto with Eric of the uncertain temper. It was a crapshoot whether he would even speak to her during dinner; often they ate in silence. However, she noticed he never failed to acquiesce to whatever plan she presented, whether it was a run to the dry cleaners or a meal invitation to some restaurant she really wished she and Sven could be enjoying. Eric was a constant presence in her life. In some ways, she thought with surprise, she almost spent more time with him than she did with Sven. What little time she had, she reminded herself, as the last quarter had been grueling, and now she was in the home stretch of her program, so to speak. In fact, the only one who seemed to have an abundance of time, always underfoot, was Eric. He had not had any teaching assignments for the spring quarter lined up as he had planned to return to Hohn to finish up his research. Instead, he'd decided to stay in Northern California, directing his team's efforts via phone and fax.

She sighed. The sound of the fax machine in Sven's former den, now commandeered by Eric, was the off-key musical companion to all of their activities. Some nights, she thought she might go mad if she did not stay away from that part of the house and the annoying sound of the milky sheets spooling their reams of incomprehensible data. When he'd first moved in, he'd been eager to explain every little nuance of the information, but after weeks of polite glazed-over expressions from both Sven and Sookie, he'd finally given up, spending more time in the den, sometimes emerging only to eat and sleep, or make an appointment with the lawyers. He'd had very few visitors, mostly students who didn't stay long, just dropping off packages from U.C. and heading back out in less than twenty minutes. Well, she was sorry for him, but she had her own problems.

"Eric, you might try ordering something different tonight? Instead of your usual baked salmon, sweet potatoes and carrots, you could try the roasted turkey breast and green beans. A little variety might be a good change for your pampered stomach." Oops, that was an unintentionally nasty remark. She'd meant to be solicitous. She waited for the backlash; neither he nor Sven responded well to perceived criticism.

Instead, he just shook his head in agreement. "I don't care. Whatever."

Their regular waitress arrived, taking their orders and flashing a big smile at Eric, as she always did. And, as always, he ignored her. Sookie could understand the pretty girl's unrelenting efforts. She herself might have been a little more attentive in the face of the competition if she didn't have Sven. As it was, it just tickled her that Eric of the long, gorgeous icy hair, chiseled features, sparkling blue eyes, and masculine, muscled physique could be so oblivious to the machinations of the opposite sex around him. Whenever she took him out, if he'd been hers, she might have been miffed at all the attention he always garnered. For all he noticed and responded however, it could have been just the two of them in the world, surrounded by ghosts, and that was only when he noticed her enough to pay attention, which wasn't that often.

She assessed his mood tonight as a little grave, but steady. Orders placed, it was his turn to speak. He seemed to understand that, looking up and clearing his throat. "So, your break overlaps the U.C. calendar, right? You have the next two weeks free?"

Real conversation from Eric? Evidently he was trying. "I've finished most of my courses and next quarter I'll work on my project and attend a few seminar sessions. This is the push for me. My final project has to be stellar."

"Any luck finding a position yet?"

Just what she'd been agonizing over earlier. "Nope, and I don't want to sound like a strident feminist, angry at the world, but it doesn't seem plausible that I haven't received a single offer. Of the ranked top ten students, I am the only woman, and the only one not to have a job lined-up for graduation."

An odd expression passed over Eric's face. Could that have been compassion? The glum bunny himself was thinking about something besides his own misery?

Reaching across the table, he offered his hand to her, palm up. Without thinking, she took it, as naturally as if he had been Sven or a member of her immediate family, offering comfort to a loved one. "I'm sorry for you. And no, I don't think you are imagining there is some resistance to hiring you. But maybe there's more to it than just the fact of your sex." Here he smiled, a charming and unusual sight. His lips were so sensual. "You are a very beautiful woman, my dear sister-in-law. Young, intelligent, well-groomed, tastefully dressed, articulate and well-educated. Everything a man could want in a woman." He stopped abruptly. After a long pause, during which he would not meet her eyes, he spoke again. "Sven told me that you are applying at the smaller firms and are not using our name on your resume. Maybe you should. It would inform your community that you are safe to have around; you are married. They can tell their spouses you are taken. The wives won't need to worry about you stealing away a husband." He grinned openly at her now.

She noticed he had begun stroking her hand. It was soothing; she didn't stop him. Unlike their previous meals taken out, tonight he was being attentive. It was as if he was finally noticing she was with him, and they were alone. Something about tonight was different. Why?

"It pains me that you are having a difficult time. You've put so much effort into obtaining your degree, excelling at your profession. To not be recognized for that commitment and sacrifice is ….. " Did he actually growl? "I'd like to go knock some heads together. Science is a much more open field now for women." A long pause. "Do you ever regret giving up on the idea of cataloging the dwindling wolf populations? I believe it was your plan to be in Iceland that summer? With me." He'd added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Uggh, a subject she did not want to explore with him. It was difficult enough having him in the house and being forced to spend time with him in Sven's absence. At least she could be grateful there had been no reenactments of the incident in the den. Tonight was the first time he had voluntarily touched her since then, other than the occasional brotherly hug, a shoulders only meeting of their forms.

Fortuitously, their plucky little waitress chose that moment to deliver their meals and take a few minutes to chat with Eric about the food and his plans for the weekend. Well, her plans really, as Eric never had any plans for the weekend except to use the hours to continue to compile the documentation to support his work. She used the interruption to compose her reply.

After some monosyllabic answers, mumbled by Eric who evidently could not bring himself to be rude to anyone, no matter how annoying, the waitress departed. They both started eating, Eric as usual swallowing his food in great gulps, hardly chewing, eating as if he was starving for the nourishment. This aspect of her former lover never failed to fascinate her. It was as if he treated all sustenance as liquids, biting off what he needed, then swallowing without regard to the possibility of choking. She herself was terrified of choking on her food. She sat for a few minutes, then resumed their conversation. She'd be honest with him.

"It hurts to admit to my own immaturity, but maybe that plan was spur-of-the-moment. It might have been a way to ensure I'd see you again." There, she'd said it. "I wasn't a strong student in the biological sciences, it turned out."

Instead of answering with a confession of his own, as she had been hoping, he just dropped her hand.

Oh, god, now what? "What's wrong, Eric? Is your stomach hurting? Maybe the change in menu was a bad idea after all? I'm sorry for suggesting it."

"That's not why I let go of your hand. It isn't mine to hold."

"Well, what's wrong with you, then?" She didn't want to follow that thread. But he would not be dissuaded this time.

"Every time I bring it up, you brush me off. I know the reason you do so, but I'd like to put it behind me. Maybe understand it and you. I need to move on." His voice had grown softer with the last few words.

"You want to know why I didn't show in Iceland? That's a little cruel, isn't it? Why'd you leave that weekend without saying goodbye? Why did you never try to contact me at all that year?" She shook her head to clear it of the emotions now ready to swamp her. God, it was years ago; where was the emotion coming from after so long? Was she just tired from all the efforts of the last few months?

She cut him off as he made to speak. "Listen, Eric, I know you had your reasons. Something happened, or whatever. I guess you got back with the ex, for one. Or, you just realized I was too young, or we were just too different, our circumstances and backgrounds would never mesh. It was just physical attraction between us, nothing more, right?" Shoot, why was she suddenly feeling as if she might tear up?

She held up a hand, palm out, to stop him from speaking. "No, don't say anything more. It's ancient history between us. Really ancient, considering where we both are now, considering our present." If she sobbed, she was going to completely lose it. Must not. "Guess I'm really too tired to be out roaming around tonight. Will you pay the bill? I'm going to the ladies. I'll meet you back at the car in a few minutes." She made to stand, but was blocked by Eric rising from his chair to push her back on the banquette. He slid in next to her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his flannel shirt brushing her cheek as his long fingers wrapped around her forehead and gently pushed her cheek against his, her body held closely against his as she started shaking with the sobs she hadn't been able to hold back after all.

"Shush, shush, dear one, don't cry. Just don't start crying now." That did it; she started openly wailing, her face pressed hard into his shirt, soaking the fabric, probably leaving a trail of snot. Oh well, it was flannel. He could just wash it. Took more than a few tears and snot to ruin a flannel shirt.

Her mind now thinking of practicalities, her sobbing tapered off. She was embarrassed by her unbridled display of emotion. Long ignored, it must be the release of her hurt at being discarded by him; her embarrassment of what they had done together that night and his obvious disregard of its significance for her in her innocence. It was perhaps finally her sadness at the loss of her first love, for that's what he was to her. It had been a long time coming.

And now she was married to his brother and he was soon to be free. Heck of a lot of good it would do her.

But there was to be no reprieve. He started up again with his previous line of questioning. "Why are you crying when you are the one who walked away from me? I've tried asking you this before; you always shut me down. Tell me, now. What happened? Was my display of anger and aggression so terrifying to you that you had no choice? I don't want you to ever to be scared of me." He paused, still holding her close to him. "I regret losing it so completely. That one moment of abandon after a lifetime of holding it in evidently cost me everything." His words echoing her thoughts were a little spooky.

"I'm sort of confused, Eric." She pulled out of his grasp, catching the look of regret on his face as she tilted her head up to look him in the face. "You disappeared. I didn't. Why didn't you call me if you wanted to see me? I've said this before to you. We were in the phone book." They were still sitting too close; her fingers itched to reach over and clutch his shirt, pull him close, and tasting his lips first, bury her tongue in his mouth. Soft, many-times washed flannel on a man just did it for her, darn it.

A look of disbelief crossed over his features, replaced by what looked like despair. Yes, that was what it was.

"I didn't write you any bitchy note breaking it off. I admit, maybe, that I gave up too easily, considering how I, how I….thought about you. But if you expected me to prostrate myself, to suggest other than what you did not want from me, that's a game I won't play, then or now." He stood as she was still digesting the comment 'bitchy note'. Men and their prejudices; it was always 'bitchy' if it was a pejorative. He was still speaking, though.

"I'll get a taxi. You can drive yourself back to the house, avoid my unwanted presence any longer. I really need to find that place I've been promising to move into this spring. Maybe I'll stay over with Joran tonight." He just looked upset now, which so wasn't good for him. He was still feeling some effects of his illness every so often.

"Just stop it. You really are as much of a drama queen as your brother." His head snapped up at that dig, a furrow forming in his brow. "You and I are in the middle of a long-needed discussion. If you'd stop racing off from me, maybe we could get this resolved and spare ourselves rehashing it every so often. I agree dinner is over. I'll meet you at the car after you pay the bill and I stop off to wash my face and repair my mascara." He looked taken aback at her orders. "And Eric, I definitely do not want you to move out. I like having you in my life, grumpy as you are right now. I'm hopeful you'll get over this and I'll see the person we only catch glimpses of, the person Sven loves." She hesitated, carefully watching his face for his reaction to what she wanted to say next. "The person I was once in love with, however briefly." She felt giddy as she walked to the restroom, not daring to look back at him but savoring the reaction to her words he hadn't been able to hide. They were finally talking to one another after months of no real interaction and she had no idea where it was going to lead.

Exiting the restroom a few minutes later, refreshed and ready for the drive home, she was pleased to see he followed orders when he wanted to; he was waiting in the car for her, already seated, her door deliberately left open. He wasn't into the false chivalry she so detested in men. That was another plus.

He spoke first. "I would prefer we wait to continue our discussion until we arrive back at the house, so I can focus. Okay with you?" She'd nodded. They made the fifteen minute drive in silence, but when they were standing at the door, she fumbling for her keys, Eric standing close to her grasped her hand, a natural sort of touch. For just a brief moment, she flashed on the idea that this was their house, and they were coming home together, to close it up and climb into their bed together. It felt so right. Struggling with this betrayal by her own heart, she silently cursed the circumstances. Not going to happen; not in this existence.

Inside the house, after the usual enthusiastic greetings from the two hounds, they dropped off coats and stopped, milling around a bit. Sookie, not examining her reasons, this time took his hand in hers and started pulling him towards his bedroom at the far corner of the house. She wanted to be surrounded by all things Eric, his clothes, books, even scents, as she felt a small twinge that she might be breaking faith with Sven by having this conversation. It wouldn't help to be reminded of her husband while she was speaking to his brother of their past intimacy and why it failed. Her mom had been right; it was just never going to be easy.

To reach Eric's room, they had to pass by the back staircase that also led to the second story of their house where she and Sven normally slept. The second set of stairs had been installed in earlier times so a servant could bring up a breakfast tray from the kitchen to the master bedroom. Passing it now, she remembered the emotionally charged events leading to the last time Eric had made his way down the hall and up those back stairs to find her on the bed. She blushed as she recalled how she'd had to struggle and distract him to let her go. None of that would occur this time, she promised herself. He was quiet as well as they approached his room, the house mostly dark where they'd neglected to turn on lights.

His bed was made, but rumpled. Stuff was stacked around, showing the temporary nature of his existence in their house. Maybe they'd need to give him more room, make him more a part of their family if he was going to continue living with them indefinitely. It wasn't right and Sookie was all about what was right. For now, she asked the obvious question.

"Did you dead-bolt the front door when we came in?" She moved forward into his bedroom by herself. What was she going to do tonight? She replayed the conversation she'd had that night with Sven two months ago when he'd brought Eric back from the hospital, suggesting the three of them could have what she'd learning his parents shared. She was still thinking about it when Eric returned. Would it fix everything or just screw it up more? After her crying jag tonight, she could just about admit to herself that she didn't want Eric to leave her again.

P2.

Thinking about the last time they'd been alone and interrupted by Joran, Eric returned to the front of the house to check, finding he'd forgotten the lock. Turning the knob he was glad Joran would not be waltzing in on them again. Sven would not be back for hours; he and Sookie would have time to get some things out of the way. He realized he could have had this conversation any time over the last few months as Sven had been missing from home a lot, claiming the press of his business. Eric felt guilty that Sven was working so many hours and he was borrowing money from him for the divorce. He'd had no idea a divorce could be so expensive. But he guessed since he was paying for the best legal advice possible, at Sven's insistence, Sven had wanted to assist with some cash.

Approaching his room again, he saw the light from the bedside lamps spilling out the doorway into the hall. He had a softer bulb in them attempting to avoid spending every evening reading alone in bed until all hours. But he still wondered why tonight was different? Maybe it was Sookie who was different, more approachable now that she had a breather with the two week break and could pay a little more attention to him. Whatever. Tonight was it.

She was stretched out on the bed, feet bare and her blouse released from the dressy skirt she had been wearing when she returned earlier that day from work. Uncertain what his next move should be that would not put her off, he walked over to the closet and kicked off his boots. She was patting the open space beside her on the bed when he turned around and he felt welcomed, comfortably dropping beside her as he pulled his belt out of his jeans to let it fall on the carpeted floor. This felt familiar.

"Any Playboy magazines under the bed tonight?" She'd joked, obviously referring to that night that he kept thinking of at inopportune moments, more so over the last few weeks.

"Want me to check?"

"No, just a stray thought. I'm a little past the need for instruction."

"Good, because I forgot my copy of 'The Joy of Sex'."

That was a conversation stopper, because now that they were ready to begin, neither seemed very eager to start the discussion. Several minutes of silence followed, broken only by the sounds of their breathing and minute shifting atop the comforter.

Damn, now that he had what he'd waited years for within his grasp, he was hesitating, frozen as it were. He needed assistance but it wasn't forthcoming from her. In desperation, falling back onto old patterns, he finally spoke. "How about some music? I'll make a selection."

Standing up in relief now that he had a plan, he walked to the corner and bent over a pile of albums on the floor, pulling one with a non-descript cover from the top of the pile. "This was just released in the U.K. last year. One of my students brought it over two weeks ago. I think you'll like it. Listen to the words at the end, especially."

He stayed standing, watching her face as the words, staccato sounds and laughter at the beginning of the song 'Roxanne' by a new band called The Police broke into whatever she'd been thinking while he was talking. She listened in silence, apparently mystified, until the pertinent lyrics came on, no meaning of which could be misinterpreted.

I loved you since I knew you
I wouldn't talk down to you
I have you to tell just how I feel
I won't share you with another boy

I know my mind is made up
So put away your make up
Told you once I won't tell you again
It's a bad way*

He let the song finish, hoping she'd react, but he got no response. Should he check her breathing, or lick her neck to feel for a pulse? He was kidding himself with that last one. In frustration at her silence, he pulled off the album and inserted one he was sure she'd like, Jimmy Spheeris' Isle of View. It was a great chick album. The sounds of 'The Nest' drifted from the speakers as Eric now stood over his former lover. Even eyes closed, she was an enchantress. His enchantress.

Listening to the opening notes, he looked down at her; whispered. "I'm so horny, Sookie. I don't know if I can lie on this bed with you and just talk." She did not open her eyes.

In fact, her only answer was to pat the comforter again, motioning him to move beside her. What did she mean by it?

Moving his big body now as carefully as he could so as to not touch her, he too closed his eyes as his head sunk into the pillow, the music speaking to his inner self as he thought about how to begin. Could he do this, now that he had her full attention? He felt much older than his twenty-eight years as he contemplated what the aftermath might be if he made love with Sookie. He had not forgotten his conversation with Sven that day. Forgotten? Hell no, he had been tortured by the implications of it for the last two months, especially as it had recently become certain he would eventually be free of his ex, out of her grasp forever.

How many times had he thought about what she and Sven were doing in the upstairs bedroom at the other end of the house? It was just another form of self-torture that he'd never worked up the nerve to climb the stairs and knock on the door, seeking admittance. He knew Sven would have let him in. He just couldn't imagine what would have happened next. Well, he did have the images in his head of what he would do if they allowed him to join them, but what would they say to one another afterward? And where would it have gone? He could really use a joint. Right now!

He stilled the urge to launch himself from bed yet again, reminding himself he'd promised he would not grab the plastic baggie of grass he'd concealed under the bathroom sink if he and Sookie ever made it to this point. The counselor Sven had suggested he start seeing, keeping it a secret from everyone including Sookie, had helped him to realize his dependence on weed was a means of dulling his reactions to whatever was bothering him. He'd tried to cut himself off entirely as a result of the weekly sessions as what she'd said to him made sense, but the anxiety he was feeling right now brought the urge right back. The relaxation exercises he'd been working on with her were so not going to help him now. He decided to try talking to Sookie as originally planned; maybe it could help. The music really just made him hornier, though.

"Where should we start? Now that we can speak freely to one another, what is the beginning for us?"

"Is there an "us", Eric?"

Deep breath. "Sookie, I want you for my Lover. Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah, well, you are about five months too late. I'm married."

J*sus, that was direct. He swallowed. He needed to start differently.

"I'm maybe five years too late, by my reckoning."

"Too late for what, Eric? I agreed to speak with you about whatever was bothering you. We all know we are not supposed to upset you until your system settles down. If you don't have something significant to say tonight, I'm going back to our bedroom and wait for Sven. We'll forget all about tonight ever happening. You can begin thinking about when you want to find your own place. It might be best if it happens soon." If he had not been right beside her, the distinctive perfume she wore weaving its way through the heated air to inflame his senses, he might not have heard her own intake of breath at the end of her speech. It told him she wasn't as unaffected as she was pretending. It also fueled his courage.

Turning over on his side, and raising up on his elbow, he looked over her scrunched little face, and then bent to kiss her, willing her to open her eyes to him. She did, glowing at him in the weak lamplight as her face relaxed under his gaze. The softness of her lips sucked his tongue deep into her and they once again melted into one another. It was the most bewitching kiss of his life, so passionate, so pure.

And it ignited a bonfire that neither could control, nor wanted to.

A/N: /watch?v=Whaeyl9FpIM--for this music.

This scene resumes in a later chapter. Chapter 16 is Sven and Sookie and is the second part. It really should be read as such. All remaining errors were introduced by me after editing. Sorry for them.

*Copyright 1978, The Police.

**And, The Princess Bride..