A/N: I know I waaaaaay overshare up here, but that's kind of how I roll, I guess. And Imma do it again. It will likely be long, so I will stick a page break down below so you can skip to the chapter instead of reading my blahg.
If you've read any of these long-ass things, obviously I've struggled a lot with my mental health, so these are kind of a mood diary of sorts. Like, for instance, how I'll remember sometime next year that, when I posted Chapter 12 of CD, I was going through some shit. Kinda goes without saying, but still. I was ping-ponging around like (because) crazy, doing stupid stuff because it felt like the absolute right thing to do in the moment. But then, a day or two (or hour) later, the horror would strike and I would realize I'd obviously been completely and totally wrong. But which one was the right take? And was there really such a thing? Mood swings from hell clouding my perspective and perception and judgment.
Also see thinking you're completely sane and rational but maybe, upon further reflection… Not so much.
Anyway, because of my mental health — and the lack thereof — I have tightened my circle considerably. Which means I have just stopped contact with so many. (And if you are one of them, I'm sorry. 😬)
Maybe you are reading this, and maybe you feel the same way. Someone you care about has messaged but you just aren't up to answering because you're all fucked up. And maybe they message again and then you feel terribly ashamed because you didn't answer the last time they messaged. Or maybe even the time before that. And the longer it's been, the more ashamed you feel, and so you keep avoiding it all together. Having a momentary glimpse of shame when you see it in your inbox before you quickly scroll away is so much easier and better than the thought of facing the shame head on, opening those messages, and saying, "Hi. Sorry I haven't gotten back to you. I've been in a really shitty place."
You already feel so terrible, so feeling even more terrible sounds… well, terrible. Especially when just the thought of doing it is excruciating.
But, no matter how hard you try, you do see the message a few times a week. Or you delete it but something else reminds you of them, and you can't stop thinking about it anyway. It is already making you feel more terrible, even just sitting there. And it never goes away. Not really. It just lies in wait.
But if you can stand to open the message or pick up the phone and say/write the thing, then that particular bit of crippling terribleness and shame is over with. It will be scary as fuck. It will hurt. But then it isn't waiting right around the corner, ready to pop up and make you miserable when you least expect it. Especially when you know that person is someone who will understand and say, "Hey. I totally get it. Don't be sorry. I'm so glad you reached out. I care about you and have been worried. How can I help?" Without judgment.
And you don't have to accept any help or give any excuses or explanations, if you don't want to. That's how I'd feel, anyway. Even a short conversation, just to let them know you're alive and to touch base and tell them you'll be disappearing again, so they can wish you well and say see you, I'm sure, would be greatly appreciated. You'd both have one fewer thing to worry so hard about.
I should really take my own advice. Hopefully my read on the situation isn't wrong again.
Sorry I'm crazy. I'll try to shut up now. At least Zachary Levi has a Chuck rewatch podcast in the works. 😬
Chapter 12
By the time the manager had helped Eric get free of the net, they were long gone. He followed their scent for a few blocks but it disappeared into nothing. Presumably where they'd gotten into a car.
He went back to the nightclub and into the room where they'd had sex. There were no other exits inside. He hadn't been oblivious enough to miss a vampire opening the door. There was only one explanation, at least as far as Eric could see. The vampire had lain in wait. He'd known where Eric and Sookie were headed before they had. Or at least before Eric had. Sookie had chosen the restaurant. Pulled him into the bar nearby. Gotten him so worked up that all he could think about was fucking her and drinking her blood. And then she'd led him straight to a vampire with a silver net, who'd helped her escape.
He punched a hole through the wall and into the walk-in cooler beside it and then stalked out the employee entrance. He kept going. No matter how far into the desert he walked, he couldn't clear his thoughts. His cell phone rang and he let it go to voicemail. It rang again. The third time, he growled into it.
"What?"
There was a pause. "Jesus, Eric, calm the fuck down."
"I cannot calm the fuck down. She is gone. I let her escape."
There was a longer pause. "Well, shit."
He couldn't have said it better himself. He grunted instead.
"What in the hell happened?"
"We went up to my room first. Ater I had her, she wanted Mexican food. She ate and then pulled me into a nightclub near the restaurant. She teased me relentlessly until I needed her, and she led me to what I believed to be an empty room. While we were having sex, I was covered in a silver net from behind. It was a vampire I did not recognize. He had a stake but the manager heard the commotion and opened the door. The vampire grabbed her and ran."
Pam sighed. "Well, I can't say I blame her, but what are you going to do?"
Eric snorted. "The only thing I can do. Prostrate myself before the King of Nevada and beg for mercy."
Pam cringed and was glad he couldn't see it. "Should I come?"
He stopped and looked up at the stars.
"Yes. I would like to see you again before my final death. You should likely hurry."
It sounded dry, but she knew he meant it, too.
"I'll come as soon as I can."
She was quiet for a moment. "Tell me what happened from the beginning. Maybe we can figure out some kind of hint of where she might be."
He shook his head. He knew it was pointless.
"As I said, she led me to the back of the bar and into a storage room."
"Did she head straight for it?"
He paused. "It was the first one past the toilets."
"Well, that's no help. What happened next?"
He told her everything, in great detail. She asked the right questions to get even more information. She thought for a few moments.
"Did you smell a vampire when you first walked inside?"
"No, but I was only focused on her. On her scent."
"Did you notice any others?"
He blinked. Actually, he had, now that he thought about it, but scents were easy to filter out after they'd been noted. If nothing was off, he paid no attention. But he definitely hadn't noticed the scent of another vampire. Not until after he'd known he was there.
"Yes. There was flat beer. Bleach. Floor wax. Cardboard. Other scents."
Pam thought a moment longer. "Why would she fight the vampire?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Plausible deniability?"
She laughed. "You were going to suspect it was an escape attempt regardless of whether or not she kneed the vampire in the balls or tried to scratch his eyes out. Anyone would. You're doing it right now! Besides, she had nothing to prove. An unarmed human woman is helpless against a vampire, regardless. If anyone knows that, she does. The whole thing makes no sense."
He opened his mouth to protest. She beat him to it.
"If he'd thrown the silver net over you, grabbed the girl, and run out the door, it would have given them a much better chance of not getting caught. You wouldn't have even seen his face. You would have been in the dark, covered in silver, and too weak to move until someone discovered you, maybe hours later. Instead, both of them were hurt in the struggle. Her fighting allowed you plenty of time to get a good look at him. You made enough noise between the three of you to attract attention, despite the loud music in the bar. And now you're free to chase them after he was nearly caught."
He didn't have an answer for that. He'd been so sure of himself a few minutes before.
"Eric, she tried to kill herself last night. She was nearly successful. You were there far past sunrise. When did you pick her up this evening?"
"A few minutes before sunset."
She sighed in disgust.
"Do you think she arranged an escape plan with a vampire on standby in those few hours? Or do you think she tried to kill herself despite the excellent plan that was already in place for the following night? And what about her brother? Was her worry for him in the midst of a drug overdose all an act? Or does she just not give a shit about him any longer a few hours later?"
He thought about all of their interactions over the past few nights. There was no way it could have all been an act. Nobody could be that natural under such disparate — and desperate — circumstances.
"But then how did he get into the closed room without attracting notice?"
"Honestly, I don't know. Magic. A gift. Who gives a shit? It still makes a hell of a lot more sense than the alternative."
"But…"
She rolled her eyes. He was so fucking stubborn! She started telling him a story before he could say anything else. She just spoke right over him.
"When I was a human girl, I had a horse. He was a lovely Friesian named Nightshade. See? Further proof I was made for this existence. All my girlfriends had their own horses, too, of course. Our family had several. They pulled the carriages and wagons and ploughs and sleighs. They carried people and mail and supplies. They were every bit as essential to everyday life as cars and trucks are today. The roads were full of horses."
His jaw had continued to tighten throughout her whole aside. He was seething.
"I am well aware of that fact. I was there, if you didn't remember. What in the fuck do horses have to do with anything?"
"You know, in all that time, I didn't see one zebra."
After a few seconds, he snorted. "Touche."
A second later, he sucked in a breath. Out of nowhere, Sookie had become part of him. Because part of him was now somehow part of her. She had just taken his blood. He had no idea how it was possible, but he had no other explanation.
"I feel her."
"Feel her? What do you mean?"
"In my chest. We have a blood tie."
"Since when? Right now? Fuck a zombie! How in the hell did that happen?"
He had no idea. She and the strange vampire had been gone for hours and they were moving fast. He could fly faster, but it would take him time to catch up.
At least he no longer had to wonder if she was on the run. He felt neither excitement nor betrayal. Just dread, and all of the feelings that had pitched in to make her feel that way. But, for now, she wasn't in active danger.
"Come as soon as you can."
"Yes, Master."
She was worried. It didn't make him feel any easier. He ended the call and took to the sky.
He felt they'd stopped moving about half an hour later, and her fear ratcheted up. He had gained a fair bit of ground and was confident he would make it there before something terrible happened to her. At least he told himself so. He felt guilty enough already, both for letting her get captured and then doubting her innocence.
He was confused about the blood tie but very grateful. At the same time, he was also very glad it hadn't happened until after he'd spoken to Pam. He had been angry enough — no, he'd felt betrayed enough — to have handed her over to Felipe with a full account of her transgressions, to do with as he pleased.
Like he'd done to her on their first night together. Before Eric had raped her.
He forced himself to fly a little faster, no matter how much it hurt. Wasn't penitence good for the soul? Which begged the eternal question; if souls existed, did he even have one?
His thoughts were racing and he made himself slow back down, body and mind. Pushing was making him weaker. He wanted to be strong and canny enough to protect her from her captor. And, even though she was very afraid, she hadn't been driven west, deep into the California desert, just to be killed on arrival. Not unless she did something stupid. Or brave. Or both.
Her fear kept escalating over the next several minutes and he touched down in front of a barn just as he heard her scream in pain. Between her fear and his guilt and anger and pride, he was ready to tear that vampire apart.
He kicked the door once, but it hadn't quite been enough. He kicked it again and the thick board barring the door snapped and the doors swung open. He stepped into the doorway. And then he snapped, too. Sookie looked terrified and he saw the ragged, bleeding bite on her neck. The dark bruise around her bicep. Eric had ripped her panties off himself so he knew there was nothing under her dress. And this monster had her up against the wall and was poised to take what was his.
And, more importantly, he needed to save her. For herself.
He grinned, but there was nothing remotely funny. He looked terrifying.
"Sookie is mine."
And he attacked.