Eric swung the door to the cabin open, a cooler of blood bags held tightly in his fist. He supposed everyone would wonder what happened to the blood donor bus and the glamoured driver, the third in three months. Not like he actually cared per se.
He walked into the master bedroom and carefully set the cooler down next to the bed. Pamela still lied there, like a comatose porcelain doll. Eric squelched the all too familiar flicker of worry and fear he got every time he looked at her, so still and hurt.
Three months.
It had been three months since he woke up in the snow bank. Three months since he started nursing his child back to health. Her skin had lost that charcoaled look about a month prior; now her complexion was almost rosy, like a child who had spent too much time outdoors. She was still far too gaunt for his liking and weak, but last week she had stirred in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent, which had given Eric hope.
Three months.
He grabbed a bag of O-negative blood, sauntering into the kitchen and plopping it into the microwave for a few seconds. He tentatively reached through his only open bond, and was immediately rebuffed. He couldn't say he blamed her, and she was definitely like her sister.
He headed back towards the room, head lost in thought, and sat on the edge of the bed. He turned towards Pamela, and froze.
Her deep blue eyes stared into his, slightly dazed and confused. Her brow was wrinkled, and she stretched under the sheets then winced as her not-quite-healed muscles protested the movement.
Eric cupped her cheek, thumb gently stroking her face, and sighed. "I've missed you. Welcome back, my Pamela."
Her hand slowly made its way up to his, her fingers weaving themselves with his and grasping tightly. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then propped her up in a sitting position, her head cradled against his shoulder and her body pressed flush against his. He then handed her the blood bag, and rested his cheek against her hair as she ate.
Eric felt relief hit him like a tidal wave. Three months of not knowing whether or not she'd make it; Seventy-one days of watching her lie there, weak and comatose, and praying that he was doing everything he could right.
It had been a slap in the face to realize how truly and honestly close they were. Not to say he hadn't loved her- he loved her from the moment he made her and had never stopped- but the actual reality that he might never have this infuriating, insubordinate, amazing woman by his side was like a stake to the heart.
She was not only all he had left- she was all he needed.
Pam craned her head to look at him.
"Take a picture, Northman," she rasped. "It'll last longer. Where the hell am I? And please tell me this Authority/Billith/Government-gone-wacko bullshit was just a nightmare!"
Eric chuckled. Oh yes, his Pam was back.