Disclaimer: Not my circus, not my monkeys (I love this idiom. Does it work in English too? Anyway, I think you can figure it out)

Unbetaed

Previously: For a second I wondered if I should take offence that he seemed so inappropriately pleased with the situation, but I let it go. He didn't say anything more, and I didn't feel like adding anything either. I knew that I should move, but there was something absurdly soothing about lying in front of the fireplace with Eric. He was almost vibrating with contentment, but he was wise enough not to say that out loud, so I allowed myself to accept the comfort his presence offered. I indulged myself by giving into the desire to relax by letting the silence wash over me: not only the literal one, but also the one coming from Eric's vampire mind. I focused on the warmth coming from the fireplace; on the feel of it on my face and on my closed eyelids, heavy with sleep.

Someone was with me in bed, cuddled against my back.

"Bill?" I asked sleepily, because who else could be in my bed?

I got a negative grunt in response, but even then I couldn't shake the feeling that this person wasn't a stranger to me – he (and I was positive it was a he) smelled familiar; the scent I hadn't even been consciously aware of memorizing until I recognised it.

"It's me," said a deep voice.

"Eric?" I knew I should be alarmed, but I wasn't. "What are you doing here?"

"Snuggling," he said against the nook in my neck.

Apparently Eric's idea of snuggling was a little different than mine, because his hand sneaked to my thigh and started playing with the edge of my nightgown. His fingers were stroking my skin in a circular motion and I felt the temperature of my body rising. He pushed his knee between my legs and I couldn't hold back a sigh. I lost any interest in asking him further questions, especially when Eric started slowly, but methodically planting wet kisses on every exposed part of my skin, starting with my neck and shoulder. When his wandering hand closed on my breast, I reached blindly behind me and between us and felt the muscles on Eric's stomach clench under my touch.

I shivered. It was a very nice stomach.

I made a clumsy attempt of undoing his pants with one hand, but the button didn't want to give way. In meantime, Eric hitched my nightgown so high that it was rolled up almost to my chin. Losing my patience with the damn button I decided to change my approach and I rolled onto my other side to face Eric…

…and my hand grasped at the empty space.

I opened my eyes. I was breathing heavily and lying in the tangled sheets, but undoubtedly alone in my bright bedroom. It was daytime.

Damn it all to hell. Another dream.

I really hoped that I hadn't started dreaming before the sunrise and that I had not been talking in my sleep. My new roommate had super-hearing.

I sat up still a little dazed. Something wasn't right. I was wearing a pink blouse and a black skirt from the day before, both borrowed from Tara. The other part of my outfit (a matching jacket) was hanged on the chair's backrest near my bed. I made a mental note to remember to give it to dry-cleaning.

I fast forwarded my memories of the last night. It looked like I had fallen asleep in front of the fire-place and someone had carried me to bed. Said someone could have been, of course, Pam, but I seriously doubted that.

I suddenly remembered that I had been wearing garters last night – and sure enough, I spotted them folded neatly and lying innocently on the chair. I felt myself blushing furiously.

"Eric, I'm going to kill you," I said to the empty room.

How the hell had he managed to take it off me without waking me? I checked my underwear quickly, but thankfully, it appeared untouched.

I bit my lip. I couldn't imagine the look on Eric's face when he had discovered my little wardrobe secret, but at the same time I couldn't stop myself from trying. I suppose I was lucky that he had resisted the urge to bite into my femoral artery when presented with the tempting sight. I shivered.

God, I hoped I hadn't mumbled anything when he'd been undressing me. Given the nature of my dreams, I could only imagine what I would have said to him.

The vision of Eric hovering over me and staring at my pulse point while trying to decide whether or not he should give into the desire of sinking his fangs into that small path of skin on my thigh between two stripes of lace coupled with the hormones that were still running wild after my dream made for a desperate need for a cold shower.

Once I took my mind off Eric I almost regretted that I didn't wait a little longer before refocusing, because of course the second I got myself under control I remembered the real reason behind Eric's visit. I didn't want to think about Debbie, but I couldn't avoid asking myself what I should do about Alcide. It turned out that he had been right. I wasn't particularly looking forward to calling him and telling him that I had killed his ex after all. Even the argument that he had a right to know wasn't doing much to convince me, though I did realise that it was most probably a conversation I couldn't put off forever. Sooner or later Alcide would demand answers. In the end I chose to act like a seasoned coward and decided to let the sleeping wolf lie and don't touch the subject unless Alcide asked first.

Since Eric had assured me that I didn't have to be concerned about any physical evidence of the crime, I decided to trust him on that. I was glad that he didn't tell me where he had buried Debbie and hidden her car. At least I wouldn't have to be reminded of the whole thing every time I go near that place (places?).

Despite the somber tone of the last night's events I succeeded in avoiding getting consumed by the thoughts of Debbie and spending the day in a moderate peace of mind, at least until Pam woke up and we headed to Merlotte's.

It was the first time we worked the same shift. I watched Pam with interest as she tended the bar. She was pouring the drinks without a smile, but the mere speed with which she could put the glasses on the bar was fascinating enough to ensure the interest of the patrons. It didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, too: her attractiveness was impossible to overlook even when masked with her not-so-exotic outfit. Even with Bill becoming the stable element of the local scenery, the presence of another vampire in the bar was still a big deal in our small town. I thought distractedly that whatever Sam's opinion on the matter was, he was probably going to benefit on Pam filling in for him, at least financially, since the appeal of the new was drawing the clients.

From what I observed, I suspected that Pam's drinks might be a little stronger than the recipe advised, but I didn't see Sam (who was sitting by the table in the corner with his bad leg resting on the stool) trying to correct her. Maybe he had just decided in advance that he wouldn't reprimand her unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it? All in all he was lucky as it was that Eric had sent him someone with social skills that would be acceptable in any other bar than Fangtasia, where the customers didn't see anything wrong with the fact that the un-dead part of the staff was far from making any effort to appear nice to the humans.

I didn't miss the fact that Pam was watching me at least just as closely as I was watching her. It didn't bother me as much as one could expect – maybe because I knew for sure that she wasn't there to, let's say, plan my kidnapping. Which is a rare luxury when you're dealing with vampires.

I didn't have time to over-analyse that. On the top of fulfilling my duties as a waitress I was trying to listen to the minds of the customers in hope that I might got lucky and stumble across something that would help me to identify the shooter. So far I hadn't had any luck with that. Most of the patrons were thinking about their everyday errands… or wondering how it happened that Pam was working at the bar and what kind of relationship she had with me. The men came up with rather predictable ideas on the matter. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to avoid a few visuals when a few guys unleashed their imagination. I guess some people just don't have anything better to do.

That night Tara and Mickey showed up at Merlotte's. I felt Sam's alertness spiking immediately. I couldn't read anything from Pam's face, but I was certain that she kept an eye on the duo as well. If she hadn't been reporting daily to Eric until then, she was going to after that night for sure.

I hoped for the opportunity to have a few words with Tara in private, but Mickey was glued to her side, which was enough reason to be worried on itself. Her sad eyes were following me; there was something resigned in them, some kind of tired passiveness. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I approached their table.

Mickey was so focused on staring at Pam (probably trying to figure out the meaning of her presence at Merlotte's) that he didn't even pay me any attention at first. I touched Tara's shoulder in hope that tuning in with her mind would help me to understand better the situation she got herself into.

Something wrong was going on with my friend. Although for an outsider she looked like a well-prospering, elegant woman, she was unhappy and dangerously indifferent to her own fate, but I wasn't able to read much more – as if the key pieces of the puzzle hid itself deeply inside her brain, or vanished. I wouldn't be surprised if Mickey had glamoured her to keep her from exposing his evil deeds.

"Tara," I said. Her defeated gaze made me desperately want to find a way to shake her out of that state. "Wake up!"

I don't really know why I said that, but sure enough my words didn't go unnoticed, though the person whose attention they grabbed wasn't the one I hoped to get a reaction from: a pale hand grabbed my wrist hard and moved it away from my friend's arm.

"I pay you for serving drinks, not for touching my companion," Mickey hissed.

"You're hurting her," I said. My wrist was still in his grasp.

"Not your business."

"Oh, but it is. She's my friend."

He was looking at me with his narrow, reptile-like eyes. Tara didn't even react. I had enough common sense and imagination to be afraid.

"Let me go," I said loudly and insistently.

"You're shaking like a leaf," he spat contemptuously.

"Let go this instant!"

"Or what? What are you going to do?"

I took a breath, but before I could say anything stupid (like informing him that I knew where he rested for the day – which, as I thought of that afterwards, would be idiotic, since it would only give him more reasons to quickly get rid of my person) Pam interrupted us by calling loudly:

"Sookie! Are you going to chat the whole night?" she bellowed. "Your orders are waiting."

Mickey slowly loosened his grip on my wrist without taking his cold, piercing eyes off me.

"I have to go," I said addressing only Tara. "Would you like to order anything else?"

"No, thank you," she answered, much to my surprise and relief. I wasn't sure if she was going to react at all. "We need to get going."

It looked like her lucid declaration was unexpected even for Mickey. I thought that it seemed that my friend managed to regain at least some control over her life.

I quickly walked away from the table. Pam was staring at me disapprovingly as she handed me a tray full of drinks ready to be delivered. I was just finishing that particular task when Tara and Mickey left the bar, like Tara said they would.

The door barely closed behind them when I felt someone taking my arm in a steel grasp and pushing me firmly toward the backrooms. I wasn't entirely surprised when I saw Pam behind me after turning my head.

"Sookie, a word," she said before dragging me into the lady's room.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off:

"What was that?" she asked frostily.

She was angry.

"Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how stupid what you just did was?"

I looked at her startled. I couldn't recall Pam talking so harshly to me ever before. I crossed my arms.

"I'm trying to save my friend," I said defensively.

"Well, you're approaching this horribly wrong."

"I had to do something! I can't just stand by and watch and do nothing!"

"And what exactly it is you hoped to accomplish by your little performance? If you think Mickey will listen to you just because you tell him you don't like what he's doing, then I clearly overestimated your intelligence. The only thing it did was to rile him. Are you even aware how dangerous position you put yourself into by doing that?"

"I don't care!"

"Did it cross your mind that someone else might care?"

I admit, that shut me up. Of all the people I knew, Pam was the last person I'd have expected to use that kind of argument. She wasn't suggesting that she cared, was she? I looked somewhat fondly at the pissed off vampiress. Ooooh, Paaam.

It might have been simply a tactical ploy. I suppose some of the craftier vampires had human psychology at their fingertips. If her intention was to make me feel guilty, she was on the right track.

"Mickey is a scumbag," she said emphatically. "I thought Eric told you to stay away from him."

I snorted: as if Eric's orders were sacred to me.

"Yeah, he said something like that."

"You know, Sookie, you could at least appreciate that Eric is trying to keep you safe."

"I appreciate it," I said to placate her, but she didn't let go of the topic that easily:

"Eric is very good to you," she said sternly. "You don't realise how much he values you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm very useful."

I rolled my eyes.

"Who told you that?" she asked sharply.

I'm not useful?

"Eric did."

She stared at me for a moment without a word before snorting brusquely.

"Crap on a cracker," she said and then left the room leaving me thoroughly confused.

Roll your eyes with Pam and get it all off your chest in your review!

Next time: the calm before the storm.

'Healed' is next on my update list.