Here we go :)

Disclaimer: Guess what? I still don't own them.

This chapter is unbetaed.

Previously:

"I'm here because you want me to stay with you."

Circular logic of that statement was too difficult to fully process or question in my current state. The pill was slowly starting to work and dulling my pain and Eric's presence, which usually seemed to suck all the air from the room, this time felt surprisingly simple and undemanding.

I gingerly turned to my side without opening my eyes and since Eric was on my right and my wound was on the left arm ('closer to the heart' – I thought strangely indifferently) I ended facing him. I let myself drift away into unconscious, enjoying the peaceful moment while it lasted.

Next morning the only thing left of Eric was his shirt hung over the back of the chair. I was surprised seeing it until I got my clothes back while discharging from the hospital and I was reminded that my white blouse was no longer of any use to me. I wasn't sure how I felt about wearing Eric's clothes, but I didn't really have any alternative since Jason (of course) hadn't thought to bring me anything to change into when he had been visiting me the day before. Oh, well. I suppose it was better than borrowing a hospital gown.
I learned that someone had paid the bill for my treatment. I highly suspected Eric, but I wasn't sure. While financially-wise it was a big relief, I was concerned over the perspective of being in someone's debt. I just hoped that the fact that my benefactor made an effort to remain anonymous meant that they didn't expect me to feel somehow obligated because of it.
Much to my surprise, it was Claude, Claudine's brother who showed up to give me a lift. Claude was just as bad-mannered as he was handsome, which meant incredibly, but I was still glad he was doing me this favour, even if it meant that I had to deal with his bad attitude – it wasn't a good idea for me to drive so soon after getting shot, even if I had my car in the parking lot (which I didn't, since I had been brought to the hospital in an ambulance).
After I got home – or rather to the small apartment I was renting from Sam, seeing as the place I was calling home was unlivable for the time being – I gulped down much needed painkillers and washed the pills down with a glass of water. I also decided I deserved a shower. Being able to wash the hospital off me was a relief.
Everything was taking me a little longer than usual with my injured arm. I thought that I could use at least one day of rest and so that I wouldn't do anything else that day. I curled under the blanket and took a nap.
When I woke up there was a nasty weather outside and I was really grateful for the roof over my head and for central heating – it would have really sucked if I had to carry wood for the fireplace right then.
Gallons of water were pouring down from the dark sky; unpleasant, cold rain. While I was already waiting for the summertime and dreaming of sunbathing, the weather that day was very much wintery. We don't usually have more than a few weeks a year of such conditions in Louisiana, but this year winter was harsh for this part of the country – it even had been snowing, which really wasn't typical around here. Of course it was no longer as cold as it had been in January, but the wet, windy weather could be even less pleasant at times.
I didn't get the chance to become melancholic, however, because it wasn't long after I got up from my nap when Arlene knocked on my door. She came to check on me and she brought me a burger. She was very moved with what had happened to me – equally concerned and excited about hearing my shocking story first-hand. I spent some more time gossiping with her, happy that I could focus on mundane things and small talk and take my mind off my other worries. She didn't stay for long, but all in all, it was a nice visit.
She was just leaving when Andy popped in – I spared a warmer thought for him this time, since he had been the one to drive my car back from the library parking lot for me without me even having to ask him for that. It turned out that he came to check if I had not remembered anything new about the events form the day before.
"How did you know that you needed to duck?" he asked.
I looked him right in the eye.
"Andy, I think you know how," I said.
My telepathy was the town's worst guarded secret. Everybody knew that something was going on, but no one talked about it and some preferred to pretend that they didn't know about anything at all, lying even to themselves, but Andy was too good of a cop to disregard practical consequences of my disability, though he was reluctant to admit out lout that he believed in such things as reading minds.
He kept quiet for a long moment, not sure how to proceed.
"Any guesses as to who did it?" he asked finally, keeping his question vague. "Is there anything more you can tell me about this case? Did you… notice anything?"
The most interesting thing about that conversation was not the fact that it was the first time Andy had showed sincere interest in supernatural world, but the reason why he decided to talk to me again: he thought that something didn't add up about the whole thing. I concentrated and listened to his mind to find out more and I was glad that I had a good poker face. It turned out that from where the police stood it wasn't mine, but Sam's shooting that didn't fit the pattern – the bullet removed from his wound didn't match the others.
That tidbit worried me, because it added yet another variability into the picture that otherwise had finally just started to become somewhat clear to me: if Eric was right about the sniper, all it would take to solve the puzzle would be to make a list of every bitten were in the neighborhood and then check every one of them starting with the ones looking most suspicious for one reason or another, but Andy's revelation could throw a curve ball into that plan.
Since of course I had no intention of telling Andy about werewolves and shifters – it wasn't my secret to tell – there wasn't really anything I could do to help him.
After saying goodbye to Andy I stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds and suddenly realized that I didn't know what to do with myself. I had already unpacked all the stuff I had brought from my home; there was no need for cleaning or cooking either. My last visit at the library hadn't been exactly successful, so I had no books to read. I didn't feel like watching TV, but neither had I any other idea what to do. It occurred to me that since Pam had moved into my house most of the time there had been someone around to keep me company: Pam, Eric, and lately Jason. I had become slightly unused to spending my evenings alone. I couldn't find anything to occupy myself and paced restlessly (and pointlessly) for some time.
It turned out that I didn't have to worry about lack of company after all: I was really popular that night. It wasn't long before I heard another knock at the door. This time it was Tara – I let her in thinking that maybe I would finally get the chance to have a proper conversation with her. I had been worried about her for some time and it was a relief to see her after dark without Mickey glued to her side.
"I'm sorry that I didn't return your outfit yet," I said leading her to the sofa. "I have to pick it up from the dry-cleaning – I'm so glad it wasn't at my house when the fire started!"
Tara waved me off. It was obvious that her mind was on something else.
"I was worried about you," she said. "Tell me what happened."
So I told her how I got shot (I had been telling the story so many times already it became quite easy to me) all the time thinking about my own concern for Tara.
"Tara, I am worried about you, too," I said as gently as I could. "What are you doing with Mickey? I can tell that you don't feel safe in his company. What happened with Franklin?"
Tara's eyes filled with tears.
"Sookie," she whispered. "I thought Franklin liked me. I mean, I thought he respected me – you know, as a person… but he… he just handed me over when it suited him."
I looked at her shocked. I understood what she was telling me, but at the same time I wished I didn't. I had known that Franklin had been giving Tara expensive gifts and I had suspected that their relationship had been based rather on mutual needs and benefits than deep feelings, but the very thought that Tara might had been handed over from one vampire to another like some shiny toy was a hard pill to swallow.
"Are you sure? I mean, did you…"
"He told me that I was a nice girl and he liked my company, but Mickey wanted me and Franklin owed him," she said bluntly.
I felt my stomach turning when Tara told me how she had gradually got herself stuck in the situation she was – how at first Mickey had started showing up to keep her company at concerts and at the theatre instead of Franklin and then he had started giving her his own gifts too and then one day she had realized that she couldn't get away from him even if she wanted.
I admit, she was partly to blame for the way she had handled the situation and she should have tried to look for a way out much sooner, but even while I didn't approve of her motives for getting involved with a vampire, it didn't mean that it was okay for them to strip her of the right to say no and to back off from something she no longer wanted, no matter how stupid and reckless her actions had been.
"How did you manage to come here without him following?" I asked.
"He had somewhere else to be. He's really evil, Sookie. One day, he's going to kill me."
"Not if we kill him first," I said firmly.
I had no intention of letting Mickey hurt my friend.
"Oh no, we can't do that."
"You think he's too strong?" If Tara knew where his resting place was, there was a chance.
I had killed a vampire once before, even if it was just by pure luck, so I was trying to stay optimistic.
"That's not what I meant. I couldn't kill anyone, even someone like him."
Oh. Right. Not everybody is used to solving problems this way, Sookie.
"All right. Tara, do you hear me? We'll figure something out. We have to do something that would make him leave you alone."
"What about your friend?" she asked suddenly.
"Which one?"
"Eric. Everyone says Eric has a thing for you."
Her words made me feel many things: surprised, thoughtful and alarmed. It looked like Supes gossiped worse than teenage girls.
"Everyone?"
"Local vampires. Did Bill hand you over to Eric?"
Her question unexpectedly sent an icy shudder down my spine. Bill's order from many months ago rang clear in my ears: he had told me to go to Eric if anything bad happened. He had already known that he was going to leave me for Lorena at the time. Had he been doing what Tara thought? Could it be that…?
But Eric had never let me know or feel in any way that Bill might had done something like that. Not after Bill had left, nor after he had come back, not ever. He had never said a word…
"No," I snapped. "Let me think."
I rubbed my temples. Despite my irritation at Tara's suggestion I saw something in it that might prove helpful.
"Who's Mickey's boss?" I asked, "Or his maker?"
"I think it's a woman. Her name is Salome, I met her once at the casino in Baton Rouge."
"Who is she? A sheriff?"
Tara looked at me wide-eyes. I guess vampire hierarchy wasn't a common knowledge.
"I don't know."
"How did he act around her? Was he respectful?" I suddenly felt like an amateur vampire expert.
"Well, you could say so. He bowed to her."
"Just a nod? Or a full bow?"
"A bow."
"How did he call her?"
"That's the creepy part. He called her 'Mistress'."
"Okay," I hesitated. "Are you sure we can't kill him?"
"Maybe you can," ouch! "I know I can't. I went as far as standing over him with a stake in my hand while he was asleep, but I couldn't do this."
I exhaled loudly.
"Fine," I said making a decision. "I'll see what I can do."
"What's your plan?" she asked curiously.
I smiled grimly.
"I'm going to call Eric."
Eric was a sheriff and he most probably knew Salome. I thought that maybe he could talk to her. As much as I didn't like the idea of asking Eric for help it looked like he was my best shot.
"But I thought you said…"
"We're not together," I clarified quickly, "but he might be willing to help me. Eric…"
I paused unsure how to end this sentence. 'He's not my enemy' would be the safest way to put it since I was reluctant to put a label on anything more, but somehow I didn't see Tara feeling comforted by a statement like that.
"He's reasonable," I finished somewhat clumsily. "And he promised to look after me."
The last part was a last-second revelation. A light-bulb went off in my mind and suddenly I knew exactly which card I could use to play it my way. I remembered Eric's reaction when I had first told him about Mickey coming to Merlotte's – it was evident that Eric didn't want me to get involved in any of that mess and it crossed my mind that he might help me just so I wouldn't do something crazy like taking things in my own hands if he left me out of other options.
I stood up to take the phone. I sent Tara a supportive look over the table while I waited for someone at Fangtasia to pick up.

I know - I already miss Eric too. Don't worry, though, he'll be here soon enough.

Next time: You're not going to believe that, but they actually talk... some ;)