Great news! Thanks to you 'Forget-me-not' got nominated to The Charlaine Harris Award: Best Rewrite of SVM at You Want Blood Awards. Don't forget to check out all the terrific stories that got nominated this year - and to vote, of course! Remember you can vote more than once!

Of course then get back to reading this story... ;)

This chapter is unbetaed.

Disclaimer: I think it's time to own my mistakes

Previously:

It had happened before. I had been in Eric's mind once before – and once only. It had been the only time I had had a flash from a vampire mind. I remember thinking that it felt like walking into a serpent's nest back then – a brush of cold, deadly effective deviousness, capable of focusing on multiple targets at the same time.

In many ways my experience from that night was similar to the first one. This time too Eric's mind seemed like a dangerous place to be. Even when he was injured, Eric's thoughts were sharp and fast, his brain working like a well-oiled machine, sorting through every possible curse of action he could take in lightening speed.

Only this time I stumbled across something completely unexpected for me.

Somewhere there, in the dark abyss of that spinning labyrinth, among the traps and shadows – I saw my own image.

I was stunning.

I saw myself everyday dozens of times reflected in other people's minds. During my whole lifetime I've seen hundreds of my mental portraits. Looking at them felt like walking down the hall of mirrors – a never-ending row of distorted images. In all that jumble I had stumbled across only a few images I could honestly call pleasant – one of them being the one painted by the imagination of my dear Gran – but even then most of them were based on some kind of illusion.

For example Hoyt, my brother's best friend, thought me a sweet, kind girl. It was very nice of him, but Hoyt had no idea that I had washed more stains from blood that ketchup off my clothes, I sometimes worked as a telepath for a vampire sheriff and that there was a place for 'hiding a body with a werewolf' and 'shooting a woman with a rifle' in my resume as well. Not to mention that I had had sex at the cemetery once.

Eric, as it turned out, knew me well (which was hard to take in on itself for me).

He knew who I was. And he liked it very much.

I think it was exactly what boggled my mind the most – the fact that I was able to recognise myself in how he saw me. But at the same time… good God. If I had been to take a guess at what his idea of me was, I have no clue what I would have come up with, but I would have never expected that! I would have never thought that of all the people Eric Northman would be the one to conjure the image of me I would like myself.

Was that captivating creature the one who he called his Sookie? Was it her he saw when he was looking at me?

Could it be that I really was her?

I felt an unexpected burn of a lone tear under my eyelid. It had been a long time since I had felt such… I couldn't even find a name for that forgotten feeling. What was that? Acceptance?

There was little I wouldn't be able to forgive someone who looked at me this way. It was a sobering thought.

Suddenly I felt someone's hand on my back and I jumped.

"Sookie?" Eric asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

He took the forgotten pack of ice out of my hand. My fingers were numb from cold.

"My head is spinning," I mumbled.

It was true, though the reason was just too many thoughts invading my brain at once. I think I was in a mild shock.

He sat me on the kitchen stool and gave me a glass of water. My mind suddenly focused on registering his body-language, tracking his movements, expressions, gestures… I was getting overwhelmed again.

"How is Tara?" I asked.

"She'll be fine. Her injuries are nasty, but superficial."

"She needs to be moved to the couch," I made a move to get up, but Eric stopped me.

"I'll do this."

I looked at him a little surprised that he offered to help without being asked. I got instantly pulled into magnetic pole his blazing eyes seemed to be emitting. Right then, when he looked at me – was he seeing what I had seen before?

What did all of that mean? And what was I supposed to do about that?

He was kneeling on the floor nearby – funnily enough, this way our lines of sight were closer to the same level than if we'd been both standing. His hair was tangled and dirty from all the blood he had lost when he had been hurt. I suddenly felt the urge to touch him, so I reached with my hand and took a piece of glass out of his hair. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.

Rolling around on the floor in the remains of a broken glass with a hostile vampire had not done his clothes any favours, but somehow he still managed to look good – maybe because he got a little colour back after drinking my blood. His eyes were clear, but unreadable.

He was a mystery.

A noise from the other room riped me out of my reverie and I finally broke the eye contact.

"I'll get the meds," I said remembering that we had a task to complete.

I gathered what I thought could serve as a first-aid kit and took it along with a little melted ice-pack and a towel to make a compress. Thanks to my recent visit at the pharmacy I had everything I needed (I had my own injury to tend to, after all, so I had bought exactly the things that might prove useful for Tara as well). It was hard to believe that I had left the hospital the same morning.

Eric took over moving Tara to the sofa. After I made her take some of my painkillers she closed her eyes and then she was out like a light.

I stood in the middle of the room and looked hopelessly at the broken window. It was only then that I noticed that I was cold. I looked down at the broken glass crunching under my feet.

I went on autopilot to take a broom and a dustpan and then I handed them over to a stunned Eric. After everything we've been through, I don't think I've ever surprised him as much as I did in that moment.

"Sweep the floor," I said and I turned on my heel to go find something warmer to put on.

I have to give it to him – he actually tried. I stifled a giggle when I looked over my shoulder to check on his progress. Eric absolutely SUCKED at sweeping. He could barely put the broom to the floor at the passable angle, not to mention using the dustpan. He groaned softly. I had to wonder how it happened that he even agreed to that. I think I just shocked him into obedience with my unexpected demand.

Someone knocked at the door.

Eric let go of the broom as if it was on fire. It hit the floor with a loud thud. This time I didn't hold back a giggle.

"It's Pam," Eric explained and almost run to the door.

I looked at him curiously, picking up the broom.

"If it's Pam, she can come in," I said to have the whole invitation thing already covered.

I rested my elbow heavily on the back of the armchair. I was really wiped.

A moment later Pam came in carrying a plywood panel. It turned out that she brought a hammer and nails in her bag too. Eric quickly took the tools from her and got to work. I was pleasantly surprised when I realized that he was covering the broken window with the plywood. It meant that I wouldn't have to sleep in a cold house – it was definitely too late to call a repairman that could put a new glass in the window.

"Sookie, the moment I take my eyes off you, you get yourself into some kind of trouble," Pam greeted me. Then, turning to Eric, she added: "but of course no one informs me of anything until it's already over."

Eric must have not been in the mood for her jibs (maybe he was still shaken after his traumatic experience with the broom), because he ignored her speech completely, tossing a short "Pam, help Sookie" over his shoulder instead.

Pam glanced at the broomstick in my grasp and then looked back at Eric.

"To sweep?" she asked disbelievingly.

Yeeeeah, Pam was definitely "Eric's". You could see that familial likeness in the identical, half-panicked, half-incredulous look they both gave the broom.

"Oh, all right, I'll do this," I said and got to it myself, leaving Pam to hold the plywood in place for Eric.

Luckily, there wasn't much furniture in the room, so the damage wasn't too big either. Eric and Pam were just finishing then I put the broom away.

"Sookie," Eric said turning toward me. You could hear a poorly hidden irritation in his voice. "Would you do me a favour?"

I looked at him inquiringly.

"Would it be possible for you to promise me to stay out of trouble for the next twenty four hours? Or am I asking for too much?"

I had no idea what favour he had had in mind before Mickey had showed up (assuming he even had had anything in particular in mind), but I knew it wasn't that.

I blinked. And then I stepped forward and hugged him as hard as I could considering my weakened arm. For some reason I suddenly felt too shy to look at him, so I hid my face in his ruined shirt.

"I'll do my best," I said without looking up.

Eric sighed heavily and slowly raised his arms to return the hug. There was something so soothing about that embrace that it felt almost un-Ericish.

That is, until he dropped his hands lower – then everything seemed about right again.

For some reason, I found it incredibly funny and I giggled.

"Eric," I chastised. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from troubles."

I should have probably slapped his hands away… but wouldn't that make me a hypocrite considering that I wanted to put my hands on the analogical place on his body? – asked shamelessly a small voice in my head.

"Trouble," Pam said thoughtfully, reminding me of her presence. "I have to say, I don't think I've heard this particular euphemism before, and I have heard people call it many things over the years."

"Pam!" I scolded when she pointed at the part of Eric that had been 'it' in her last sentence to clarify it for me.

I hurriedly tried to let go of Eric – not that it really made any difference, since he did not let go of me.

"That's true," he said with a mischievous spark in his eyes as he looked me right in the eye. "I liked the last nickname you had for it more."

I was SO not going to ask that question.

"What nickname?" asked (of course) Pam.

I slapped my hand against Eric's mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him quiet, since I was afraid to even guess of what he might say. That maneuver seemed like a good move for about a second until Eric presented me his tactical skills when instead of pushing my hand away (like I expected) he chose to lick my palm. I jerked my hand back quickly and made a face – though what I really felt had nothing to do with being grossed out. Eric shook with quiet laughter.

"Fascinating," he muttered with obvious delight, touching his finger to my reddened cheek.

I felt the place he touched heating up even more, as if my blood was rushing happily to meet his finger.

"You two," said Pam, "should either move to give me a better view or get a room."

Apparently Eric didn't have to think to choose option number two without consulting it with me, because he bent, gripped me under my knees and then swept me in his arms in one fluid motion – then he turned and headed toward the door leading to the adjoining small bedroom.

"Eric! No way! Don't even think about it!" I yelled at the same time grasping at his neck, because Eric was absurdly tall and I was quite high above the floor.

He tossed me unceremoniously on bed. I sat up quickly and then kneeled on the mattress.

"You do realise that now that we got rid of Mickey you no longer have a reason to hang out till morning?" I said trying to sound stern.

I wasn't angry, but I hoped that he would catch onto the fact that I meant it – I really needed him to leave me in peace. I was so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open. I needed rest and some time to sort my thoughts. Certainly, it wasn't a good moment to jump into bed with Eric and I had no intention of doing that.

"Oh no," Eric said smiling. "I lost an excuse, not a reason. That's not the same."

"Seriously, Eric. I'm falling asleep here. Shoo!"

He chuckled. His mood definitely improved.

"Say hi to Pam from me on your way out, since you carried me out of the room before I could say goodbye to her."

The bed was comfy. I didn't want to leave it.

"No," Eric surprised me.

I raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"I won't leave without doing this."

Before I had a chance to ask him what he meant, he moved with a lightning speed to steal a kiss.

"Can I get a huuuug too?" Pam called from the other room.

I caught my breath realizing with surprise that I was flat on my back. I didn't even notice when Eric managed to horizontalise me.

"No, Pam," he called back.

"But whyyyy?"

And then he tossed toward me:

"Thanks for dinner."

I pushed him away with a scoff.

"You…" I couldn't find an insult suitable for the occasion.

"Are you going to sleep in my shirt?" he asked tilting his head. "Or out of it?"

"Eric, get out!"

Suddenly I almost smacked myself.

"Tara," I said and then I slapped my hand against my mouth.

She was trying to sleep in the other room and here I was yelling without caring to keep it quiet for her sake. On the other hand – if she didn't react to the noise from Eric nailing the plywood, maybe she was either so tired nothing could wake her up, or she wasn't asleep at all, just wanting to be left alone. Either way, I should have been more thoughtful.

Eric reached for my hand and pulled it away from my mouth slowly. He was watching me very closely, with unreadable expression on his face. Any remains of the previous mischievousness were quickly vanishing.

"What is it?" I asked.

He looked like he had something to say, but instead of doing that he leaned down and kissed me once more, softly but intently. My eyes fluttered. When I looked at him again his features were set in such a determined expression, that I felt like the kiss was a seal under some inner decree.

Then a quick smile passed briefly across his face and it was like watching a glimpse of the sun flashing through the clouds on a rainy day.

"Goodnight, Sookie," he said not bothering to answer my question.

Seeing the stubborn glint in his eyes I thought that just like that, I was back to not having the faintest idea what in the God's name was going through his head – but this time I had a feeling that whatever it was, maybe I didn't have to worry about that anymore.

Eric got to keep his thoughts to himself this time... what about you? care to share? :)

Next time: We still have a killer or two to reveal...