Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chpt 45 Somewhere I Belong

SPOV

Jerk!

I close the door to my room behind me, deliberately refusing myself the slam I desperately desire.

Wound up and with no outlet I immediately start stripping out of my clothes, flinging them around the room, skirt on the bed, blouse on the dressing table, bra onto the nightstand, panties kicked into the corner. I didn't even look to see where my shoes ended up but they landed somewhere with rapid thuds. Not yet spent I storm into the bathroom, scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth with unnecessary force.

In the mirror I see my shiny red face staring back at me.

He's making me crazy. Insane.

The night started off so well. I decided to write up everything I'd heard, earn my keep a bit, and let Eric know the seemingly unimportant things there never seemed to be time to tell him.

I was as pleased as punch to see Pam, I'd been so worried about her.

She helped me move my desk, all the while prattling on about Niall, it was a bit nauseating to be honest, he might look like he should be running around in his underwear in a cologne advertisement but he's still my Great Grandfather. I wondered briefly if she was converted but since she spent most of her time addressing my chest I guessed not. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed her. Not that I can think why, the woman is the very definition of snark. Eventually she got bored of my lack of insight into Niall and went off to lavish her acerbic wit on Quinn, his thoughts on her interference with his meticulous plans kept me chuckling for hours.

At her direction I called Thalia at Fangtasia. She was bored with terrorising the staff and clientele but even more bored by the idea of attending Eric's coronation where she wouldn't have been allowed to terrorise anyone, I tried to get her to change her mind about coming but she wasn't having any of it. She was however in the mood to share and while I didn't really expect fairies to be all about ethereal beauty, relentless do gooding and wings, I was more than a little shocked.

And she was right, damn her. No interaction with Eric is smooth but he sure went off the deep end as soon as I alluded to my heritage. She still maintained he wouldn't care but it sure doesn't feel like it from where I'm standing right now. Naked in this bathroom, with a look on my face I can't decipher, and his agitation threatening to break through in our bond.

Dispiritedly I peel away from the mirror to grab some clean PJs from the dresser in the bedroom, pulling them on and shoving my feet into my fluffy bunny slippers. Then I trail around picking up my discarded clothes, putting them in their rightful places.

I'm so confused.

I'd like to escape into the oblivion of sleep but I'm still so wound up I know it isn't going to happen. Instead I sink down onto the end of the bed and hang my head, inspecting the flamboyant carpet, trying to make sense of everything, anything . . . .

A knock at the door startles me out of my funk.

"Who is it?"

A martyred sigh on the other side.

"Eric."

"What do you want, I'm ready for bed." I don't bother minding my words, he's well past the point of twisting them into something dirty for my mortification and his amusement.

"I would like to talk to you."

My inner thirteen year old is turning cartwheels. The grown-up is unable to see anything good coming from it.

I've reached the door now and I press my forehead against it. I've been dreading this talk and looking forward to it in equal measure.

And yet he probably just wants to point out the typos in my report, I'm not a great speller, it always seemed so unnecessary to get hung up about it when everyone knew what you meant anyway.

He's waiting, and none too patiently either.

I blow out a breath, not caring that he'll hear me.

Oh well, time to rip the band aid off I suppose . . . .

I pull back and open the door.

He's got my laptop and notes tucked under his arm, so I'm going with the typo . . . .

"Can I come in?" He asks, reminding me that I'm blocking his path.

"Sorry." I flush up like a tomato and retreat to the bed, sitting down cross legged in the center.

Eric closes the door, places the laptop and pad carefully on the tallboy near it and then just stands there looking at me, sucking all the air out of the room with the force of his presence.

"What do you know about the Fae?" He asks just as I'm about to break the tense silence with some random inanity.

"Not as much as I should." I admit.

"Do you know why Fairy and Vampire are enemies?"

"My Great Grandfather said we are considered very tasty."

"I would not know, Godric never allowed me that privilege." He smiles slightly. "You, however, are delicious."

That should not sound like a compliment, nevertheless I can feel more red pouring into my cheeks.

"Fairy are very protective of their kin." He continues, watching me intently. "A drained fairy nearly always led to vicious reprisals."

An image of Niall and his bloody sword pops into my head.

"Wars even." He almost growls.

I nod.

"The Fae plate their swords with silver, cap their teeth with it, taint their blood with it. The Fae hate vampire. The Fae have magic."

"Vampires, the older ones who remember, consider us to be deadly tricksters." I confirm.

"You know this?" He asks, eyes narrowing.

"Thalia told me, tonight."

He is silent, considering his next question.

"Eric, I knew nothing of this. I have no magic. I don't own a sword. My teeth have never even seen the inside of a dentist's office."

He closes his eyes and I want to leap up and smooth the 'v' from between them. Not that I'd dare . . . .

"It is very difficult for me to believe." He says when he eventually opens them.

I shrug, unconsciously spreading my hands out, palms up. Certain I have nothing else to hide, he knows everything about me now, more than I do probably.

"That's what Thalia told me."

He raises that damn eyebrow, weird that I'm starting to find even that attractive.

"She wanted me to understand why you would probably still not trust me completely, even after . . . . after everything that's happened."

"Sookie." He seems annoyed, running his hand through his hair. "Your relative should have explained all this to you . . . ."

"Well he didn't Eric." I snap, stung by the truth of his words. "And I'm sorry if I didn't know what questions to ask. Not that long ago I didn't even know vampires existed never mind any of the rest of it!"

"If that is the truth then you are an amazing woman." He sighs, sinking into the chair in the corner, resting his arms on his thighs and leaning down to conduct his own carpet inspection over his clasped hands.

"And if it isn't?" I ask quietly, ignoring my brain which would quite like me to shut up before I can say or do anything even more stupid.

He snorts bitterly but doesn't look up.

"You will still be an amazing woman."

"I'm a waitress Eric." I huff, furious that tears of self-pity are forming in my eyes. "I grew up with the disturbing and extremely painful ability to read minds, I'd seen people's darkest thoughts and desires before I saw my first McDonalds. My own mother was terrified of me. And the one person who ever really looked out for me and cared for me had an affair she never told anyone about with a fairy that's completely changed anything I thought I knew about my crappy world."

He's silent and completely immobile.

"I get why you distrust and dislike me Eric, I really do, but I can't do anything more about it than I've done already."

Big fat tears are sliding down my cheeks now, the kind you can't stop and that eerily don't come with heaving sobs and flowing snot.

And I finally realise that I've got so much more to deal with than Mr Frosty and his little world of vampires. I'm the cliché that's fallen in love with the unobtainable man. And it kills me that I know so little about who or what I am now that that is my defining feature.

Just a stupid, naïve, little girl.

"Do not cry please."

Angrily I scrub the tears from face, ashamed of having a breakdown in front of Eric of all people, not that it does any good. The tears are all married, with big families, and everyone wants to join the party. I'm so lost and I've got no one to turn to, no one to help me, no idea what to do . . . .

"Sookie please." His head is still down. "I do not know how to deal with this . . . ."

"I need to belong somewhere Eric." I choke out, sobs starting. "I . . . . I . . . . I don't know . . . . where I belong . . . ."

I close my eyes and bury my head in my hands as the sobs take over, I'm going to hate myself in the morning but I can't seem to pull myself together . . . .

The Eric light is throbbing and burning inside me, writhing in some semblance of sympathy . . . .

"Eric, p-p-please, I n-need you to help me . . . ."

Strong arms lift me, laying me out on the bed, pulling my head into his chest and holding me against him with firm, sure, pressure.

The immediate sense of warmth and comfort has me crying even harder, my hands curling into his shirt in white knuckled fists as I instinctively try to get as close to him as I can. He starts to breathe, deep powerful breaths that immediately fall into synchronisation with his light, his exhaled air blowing lightly across my scalp as he folds himself around me, trapping my legs with his and tightening his hold.

"Eric." I sob, letting go completely . . . .

…..

I haven't seen him since he silently held me while I cried myself to sleep, when I woke up he was gone. Just a few days but I've missed him, though his quiet strength is always in our bond. Poor Eric, he's probably not had to deal with an overwrought woman in a thousand years, if ever, no wonder he's avoiding me. I feel pathetically grateful for his support when I needed it, and though I should be stung by his absence since, in some way I feel like he's still offering me that support.

Tonight is his coronation.

I am determined to enjoy it.

And afterwards we need to talk.

Because I can't do this anymore. I am not thirteen and I never will be again. If he wants me to stay I need to know under what conditions so that I can make a sensible, grown-up, decision. Even if I have to lay myself completely bare, or barer, if that's a word, than I did that night.

And then, whatever my life is, I need to Stackhouse up and get on with it. Crying like a baby didn't solve anything but I can't deny that it cleared my head and made me feel better. I don't really do self-pity but I guess I was due a moment.

I might not have seen Eric but I've seen plenty of Pam and Charles, I doubt there's a conspiracy but I've barely been alone a moment at night. I've slept or just laid in my bed for most of the daylight hours, hardly venturing out of my room until night descends. Huh, and I never thought I'd get used to vampire hours.

Pam has naturally claimed complete dominion over my preparations for tonight, filling my time with shoe shopping and decisions about hair and makeup. She made me try on Dress Number Three, threw a fit, then had a seamstress come to the Palace to take it in since apparently I've lost weight, all the while insisting that since she dug it out of the rubble of Rhodes with her bare hands I am duty bound to look good in it.

I just let her get on with it, it's not like I don't want to look good for Eric anyway, pathetic as I am.

Charles's presence was more soothing but just as welcome. He was solicitous about my well-being, making sure I ate meals I enjoyed, making me laugh with his scurrilous observations on the other Palace occupants and just generally making me feel part of everything.

Alcide arrived this afternoon, bringing Thalia with him in a travel coffin, I hope he hasn't abducted her, apparently the two of them are on Sookie Duty tonight. I was so pleased to see him I hugged him silly and then had to excuse myself to get another shower so I could scrub off his scent. Disturbed by the fact that I can actually smell he's not human now.

So much I need to sort out, but it can wait, tonight I will go to the Ball.

"What the Caterpillar's Uncle is that?" I blurt out as a smirking Pam appears in the floor length mirror behind me.

"It is a corset Sookie." She responds archly, brandishing it like a severed head. "Specifically designed for uplifting the assets and bolstering the underpinning of same."

"I won't be able to sit down!" I object, eyeing the thing in alarm.

"Of course you will." She says dismissively. "You just won't be able to slouch."

"I do not slouch." The very idea, Gran would never allow it.

"Good." She chuckles. "Then you will not even notice you are wearing it."

Fine.

Wordlessly I hold out my hand, taking the thing into the bathroom so I can struggle into it in privacy.

I inspect myself in the mirror, it looks like I'm wearing lace adorned medieval body armour, there is neither uplifting nor bolstering going on.

"You will need to let me arrange and tighten it for you." Her amused voice penetrates my temporary sanctuary.

Boob fixated Harpy.