Happily Never After by PersianFreak
Sequel to Surprise
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris. Please don't sue.
Rating: T, possibly M for later chapters
A/N: Short chapter leading up to.... (what else?).... the finale!!! Lemme know what you think!
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I was talking to Pam the first time it happened.
We had been discussing the latest shipment of Fangtasia underwear for women in Pam's office when... well.
The pain shot through me like a stake, or what I imagined a stake would feel like for a vampire. It burned like a white-hot iron, obliterating all thoughts to leave only an awareness of unbearable torture as it ripped through my being; I collapsed where I stood.
"Sookie!" My mind registered Pam's panicked exclamation. Vampires did not feel acute idiopathic distress; vampires did not collapse, nor did they shriek with pain caused by an unseen adversary.
"It's him," I gasped in a single moment of clarity, "Pam, they're hurting him." The pain was tainting my vision, making it look like I was viewing everything through a tinted frosted glass. I fell back onto the floor and dragged myself into downtime in the vain hope that it would lessen the pain; it didn't. The pain continued, never diminishing but rather maintaining a steady rhythm. Pain, torture like I was being submerged in silver, dull pain, torture like sharp knives were slicing through my flesh, dull pain, and then relief, a mere hour before sunrise as I drifted off to sleep torn between happiness at the end of pain and fear that it marked the end of something else: the ending of my husband's life.
***
The pain continued for nearly a week, beginning a few hours after sundown and ending just before sunrise, barely giving me time to scramble into bed. I couldn't function and so I stayed at home, Pam occasionally checking up on me or calling me, sometimes even spending the entire night with me, her worried eyes betraying the possible scenarios that ran through her mind of Eric's remains being shipped back home, or of Lucius arriving to give us the news we so feared, or of letters sent to tell us of his demise... I could tell because the same thoughts ran through my own mind. I found comfort in the predictable pattern, for if he felt pain he couldn't be dead, could he? I feared the day when the pain would end, and wept when that night finally came, the pain abruptly cutting off five hours before sunrise and sending me (and my thoughts) freewheeling into panic.
The wall, however, remained as strong as ever, dutifully protecting me from harm.
For that I was grateful.