Eric's POV:

"Dr. Byers, Connee's cervix is fully dilated now," I heard a woman say, and at first I was confused where I was. I immediately sat up from the cot and saw Francesca just standing and rushing to Connee's side. I still felt like it was late in the day, but I was instantly awake.

"Eric, it's time," Frannie told me. I was at her side in two seconds.

Although Connee was deep asleep, there was sweat forming on her forehead, her breathing was fast, and it seemed as if she was having trouble catching her breath while she slept. "Your Majesty, what's happening?"

She didn't answer me right away but looked at the heart monitor with a deep frown. One of her assistants applied some kind of gel on a hand contraption then applied it to Connee's swollen belly. "Eric, I'm going to have Dr. Carlisle do a C-section. Her labor is causing a rapid heartbeat, too rapid. It's good that she's still asleep. The procedure will only stress her heart more if she knows what's going on." She then looked at a smaller monitor beside the heart monitor she had just read. "Wilhelmina, can you move it over a little to the left?" A moment later, another heart beat echoed in the room, but it was twice as fast as Connee's.

"Is that the baby's heartbeat?"

"Yes, and it's in distress. Her being dilated makes no difference. We have to get it out now." She pushed herself away from the gurney and had her cell phone opened and dialing, avoiding my anxious glare. "Michelle, I need you here as fast as you can get here." She turned and looked at me. "Eric, I don't think you should be here for this."

"Ma'am, you cannot ask that of me. I will not leave her now."

A corner of her lips slowly rose. "No, I didn't think you would. There will be a sheet up, so you won't see anything." She stood and approached me. "She'll need you to calm her if she wakes up. I can think of no one else that she'd need."

I didn't know what to say. Knowing this moment would eventually come, I thought I'd prepared myself. I was wrong.

"Oh, God ... stop, PLEASE!" Connee bellowed as she instantly woke up from her day sleep. Dr. Carlisle had already completed the incision, and although I couldn't make myself look at what the doctor was doing, I knew it was almost over.

"Connee, sweetheart, the baby is almost here. Just hang in there."

"Wha'? No, stop. I can't do this."

I wished there was something I could do. There was nothing.

"Connee, honey, you're doing great," Frannie told her as she brushed the wet and matted hair from her temples. "You aren't bleeding excessively, and we've ... Dr. Carlisle has been able to keep the incision from closing. It'll be any minute now and you'll have your baby. Be strong."

"Why can' you give me someth ... oh, God, it hurts!" Her hand flew up for mine and held onto it so tightly I was surprised she had that much strength left.

"Francesca, we've got it," a woman said at the other end of the table.

After the queen disappeared from my limited view, I shot my eyes up and saw a bundle be lifted by the woman before placing it on a small crib beside her. The baby made no sound at all.

Looking back down at Connee, the look of fear in her eyes made me cringe. "Why isn't it crying? What is it? Is it okay?" I didn't know what to tell her. "Mom!"

"Give us a minute, honey. We have to clear the nostrils and throat."

Connee's body shook a little but soon realized it was Dr. Carlisle and another assistant working to close the wide horizontal gash that the baby came out of.

"Eric, Eric, what is it?" Connee pleaded.

"I don't know. I didn't get a chance—"

A loud, hearty cry filled the room, the most joyous sound I'd ever heard in my life, aside from hearing Connee's laugh. "Is that it?" she asked, but her voice sounded strange to me, as she slurred the few words.

"Wrap the baby up," Frannie said softly, yet confidently before she stood beside Dr. Carlisle. They both began to fervently work on Connee, but I didn't like their discouraged faces.

"Mom, wha' izit?"

"It's a boy," a woman said as she placed the baby in Connee's arm.

We both looked at our very normal-looking human newborn with wonder and amazement. "Oh, Eri', he looks perfect," she whispered with a cracking voice.

"Well, he does, doesn't he?"

"Damn, damn. There's too much bleeding now." Frannie mumbled. "Eric, how's she doing up there?"

When I looked down at Connee her chest rose erratically, and she had trouble focusing on the baby in her arm. My heart quickly sank. "Take the baby!" she grunted. It wasn't natural that she say that, was it? She should have wanted to keep the baby in her arms. The assistant swiftly carried him off when Connee's arm slipped away.

"No, no, no ..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes rolled in the back of her head.

"Fuck! Queen!"

Before she could reply, the heart monitor beeped a single long, high pitched tone. "Shit! Eric," Frannie said, appearing beside me, "Take her and bury her."

"Where?!" I hollered, not thinking clearly.

"Yours, by the stream," she reminded me.

"Why can't you bring her back?" I asked alarmed.

"I can't explain now, Eric, just do it!" I couldn't even react as I watched the sheet divider being thrown to the floor. Francesca wrapped up Connee's motionless body in the bloody sheet and handed her to me. "Go. The longer you wait—"

She didn't have to finish her sentence. The meaning was very clear. I flew to the stream and gently lay Connee in the deep, dark, cold trench. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll be here when you wake up. I won't leave you." I knew she couldn't hear me, but I didn't care. I'd be true to my word.

Throwing clumps of earth on my Connee, I couldn't look at her. Even if I did her lifeless body would have been blurred through my bloody tears. It literally killed me to bury my love, my life. The only hope for her then was for her to heal naturally.

I couldn't fathom how I was going to be able to sit through the next three damned days waiting for her to rise. But I'd fought for everything I'd ever wanted and acquired in my life, and Connee Byers was one person I was not going to let go that easily.

Third person:

"Eric?" Queen Francesca lightly placed her hand on Eric's shoulder where he'd been sitting by the freshly covered mound where Connee's body lay in the day hole. "I've brought you something to eat."

He barely glanced up but saw the feet of a human in heels standing beside Frannie's bare feet. He shook his head then looked back at the temporary, hopefully, grave of his lover, his friend, his companion.

"You will not be needed," Frannie said to the human. "You may go home." After the woman left, she sat down. "Any sign at all?" He did not reply. "I didn't think so; too early." She hesitated a moment. "The baby is doing well, Eric. Why don't you come in and hold him."

There was sudden movement in the center of the mound. Eric excitedly sat up straight and stared intently. Minutes went by. Nothing else happened. "Damned worm."

They sat in silence for several hours before Frannie stood and wiped the seat of her blue jeans. "The baby is hungry. I hear him crying. Come inside soon, Eric."

Again, he nodded simply for acknowledgment.

Three days later ...

The sun had just set and Eric was again at the mound to monitor Connee's status on rising again. The knot in his stomach from the nerves made his appetite non-existent; as a matter of fact, he hadn't eaten since the day Connee delivered their baby boy.

Every night since he'd buried her, he'd spend most of the nights at the grave site, then at least an hour with the baby. Frannie had to show him how to hold the tiny infant the first night, for it had been millennia since he'd held one. But then he was a pro, even fed the baby his bottle. They had to experiment with the accurate ratio of formula and blood; Frannie had collected and preserved several pints of blood from the best human candidates.

Eric was jostled from his concentration of any movement when his cell phone rang in his jeans pocket. He grunted when he heard the ringtone 'I kissed a girl and I liked it' by Katy Perry. He wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone but Connee. It eventually stopped ringing, but then immediately started again. "This better be important, Pam!" he snapped into the mouth piece.

There was hesitation before she replied, "We've had a problem here, Sir." She rarely used that title with him, but she had to appease his grumpiness.

"Handle it."

"Already have. When are you coming back?"

"Don't kn—" Eric stopped in mid-sentence when the center of the dirt mound pulsed, then settled back down; nothing else happened. "I've got a problem on my end, too."

"Oh, did that woman of yours have your demon child yet?" she retorted sarcastically.

"How the hell did you know? Oh, Sookie, the big mouth."

"Yes, she told me. She was worried about Connee and it sort of slipped out of her mouth."

"You bribed her, didn't you?" Eric asked with a slight wicked grin, relieved that Pam knew; a lot less explaining if he absolutely had to.

"Of course not. She thought I knew. Well?"

"The baby's fine, he's fine," he sighed heavily, mainly from frustration.

Then out of the corner of his eye he saw movement at one end of the burial mound. Without another word he threw the phone aside. Kneeling in the middle, the entire rectangle then constantly throbbed as he knew his Connee had awakened and was struggling to free herself. Soft, muffled grunts emitted from the depths of the dirt, and he was beyond anxious. Mr. Eric Northman was never one to just sit back and let things happen—well, maybe he was, though not when it involved Connee Byers. He began to dig at the dirt, not even caring if it rapidly collected on his jeans.

A moment later, fingers then a hand finally plunged through and grappled for something, anything to pull herself up. The other hand emerged, followed by another muffled gasp. Within seconds, Connee finally broke free and jumped beside the grave, her feet planted firmly and steadily. She stood in an attack position, looking around her wildly for something to come at her.

Eric, on the other hand, stood gaping at her. Connee was nothing like the woman, then official vampire that he fell in love with. Her eyes were wild and menacing, dirt was smeared all over her face and her clothing picked up every bit of dirt that had encased her.

"Connee—"

She didn't reply but stood erect, her mouth grimacing, her eyes blazing with hatred and fear. "Who are you?" she asked, looking around her for an imaginary attacker. "God, I'm hungry!" she whined.

"Don't you ... oh, shit." Eric took a step closer, but she turned and ran off toward the stream. "Connee! Wait!" He flew into the air, calling out for the queen's assistance.

By the time he saw Connee through the trees, Frannie was at her side but not holding her back. Eric floated back down beside the queen, who was then staring at her daughter cautiously. "Connee, baby, you're alright. Come back to the house and we'll—"

"No! I wanna eat!" she demanded, as if she were a spoiled five-year old.

"You will. There's plenty to eat if you'll just come back with us," Frannie said calmly.

Connee looked up and to her left, grinning wickedly with hunger when she heard before she saw, cowering on a branch about fifteen feet up a thick oak tree, a black and white cat. Before either Eric or Frannie could respond, Connee had climbed halfway up the tree before Frannie commanded, "Connee! Get down from that tree right now!" Her daughter paid her no mind. "AS YOUR MAKER, I COMMAND YOU GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

Connee immediately stopped and peered down angrily at her mother. Eric gracefully floated up to her, grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. "Put me down, Eric! I just need to eat!"

Flying toward the house, he had to continuously fight her and readjust his hold on her, for she kicked and screamed trying to free herself. "Little girl, I am older than you and much stronger. I suggest you calm yourself before I have to do something drastic." That shut her up.

Just as they reached the sliding glass door on the back deck, Frannie opened the panel, allowing Eric to glide to his feet and walk into the house. "Eric, the kitchen, please. I don't dare give her a human in the state she's in." He nodded and did so, then having a stronger hold of Connee.

After they walked in, Eric set her in a chair and held her down by her shoulders. "You can let me go. I'm not going to do anything."

"Oh, yes you will," Eric replied, knowing she absolutely would run out in search of the human he could also smell.

"Mom! Make him—"

"Relax, honey," Frannie told her as she handed her a bottle of TruBlood. "The quicker you calm down, the sooner you can see your son."

Connee looked at the bottle like it was a bag of dog crap but grabbed it and took a swallow. "Oh, god, this is disgusting!" she snapped, completely ignoring the 'son' comment. She stood, defying Eric.

"Oh, dear," Frannie moaned. "I'll be right back. Let me get a bag from downstairs. Keep her down, Eric."

"Yes Ma'am," he responded, but had no idea how he was going to accomplish that. He decided on kindness. "Sit back down, sweetheart."

Connee put her hands on her hips. "No! What if I don't want to?"

Kindness lost to tactical action. "Oh, little one, I won't have a problem tying your ass down," he challenged.

She grinned and ran her finger up his chest under his t-shirt. "You know, I would really, really like it if you did."

He took a step closer to her and stood his ground. "I also know that you do not like your ass spanked. Keep it up. We'll see how much you can take if you keep behaving this way!"

Connee's grin quickly evaporated. She crossed her arms and threw herself back down in the chair. They stared at the other for a minute, allowing Eric to get his thoughts together. All he knew was this: One, he had his Connee back. Two, she wasn't quite what he expected. Three, she didn't remember the baby. Okay, one thing at a time.

He put his hands softly yet firmly on her shoulders. "You really don't remember giving birth to our son?"

"Yes, I do," she said flippantly. "I just want to eat."

"He's doing fine, by the way," he told her coldly. She didn't reply.

He sighed unnecessarily just as Frannie returned with a pint of blood in a preservation bag, pulled a glass from the cabinet, released the lock and poured some blood into the glass. Connee squirmed in the chair while she tried to look behind Eric, her nose twitching as the aroma of the blood filled her sensitive nose. "I need to warm it up, darling. Give me a second."

When it was ready, Frannie brought the glass to Connee, who eagerly grabbed it and practically emptied the glass in one swallow. Eric pulled back and looked at her in disgust, even if the tempting human blood was dripping from the corners of her lips. It only reminded him how hungry he was, too; he hadn't eaten in three, almost four days.

There was a ding from the microwave and Frannie handed Connee another glass. "Eric," she said, nodding to the counter behind them. He followed her only a few short steps, and they both watched Connee as she downed the second glass. "She has the exact same ferocious appetite she did when she was a child."

Eric was in no mood for a mother's reminisces. "We shouldn't let the baby around her, not in her current state of mind," he whispered softly.

"Agreed. Have you ever seen a change like hers?"

"It varies, but yes. What I'm more concerned about is—"

"The baby," Connee intervened sourly. "Right? I don't want it."

She stood and headed for the hallway but Eric was quicker than her. "Oh, no you don't. We have to keep an eye on you," he warned her.

"I am not a child!" she spat. "I don't need anyone to hover over me!"

"Oh, don't temp me."

"I need more ... I smell ... there's a human here. I'm still hungry."

"You've had enough for now. We need to figure out—"

Before Eric could finish speaking, Connee shoved her body hard into his. He did not budge but held her firmly by her forearms. "Move, damn it!"

"Connee! Watch your tongue!" Frannie chastised. "Eric, control her."

He looked down at Connee with a challenging look. "Queen, I'll need your help upstairs."

Connee turned to look at her mother, as if she would help her daughter. She had no intention of doing so.

Again, Eric got a firm hold of Connee, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her upstairs. "Eric, mother fucker! Put me the HELL DOWN!"

He only smirked as he continued down the hallway to the bedroom, throwing her roughly on the twin bed against the wall as if she were a rag doll. "Queen, the handcuffs are in the top drawer. Can you bring them to me?" She fought him valiantly, though to no avail. "Keep it up," he cautioned her.

Frannie handed him the wrist cuffs. While he was able to quickly secure them to Connee's wrists then to the rail head board, Frannie was having difficulty with her feet. "Connee! Stop kicking!" she ordered.

Reluctantly, she calmed down enough for the cuffs to be clasped and locked with the leg post, only then testing her strength with the restraints. No, she wasn't going anywhere, and she knew it. "Eric, Mom, why are you doing this to me?"