Sookie comforts Eric after the rooftop scene; will she still think he's a moster? Special thanks to my beta, fellow TB fan, and friend, Michelle. Also, this is my first True Blood fic (not my first fic, just first True Blood), and I'm a bit anxious, so positive feedback would be appreciated!
Bill was already asleep when I finally make my way back down from the roof. I expect that Eric is too. Vampires cannot resist the call for sleep once the sun rises. I have tears still running down my face. I make my way to the bathroom and shed my clothes. I step into the shower and let the hot water run over me. I don't even want to get clean; I took a shower when I woke up the evening before. I just want to stand under the hot water and let it wash away my pain.
i"You'll take care of him, Eric?"/i Godric's words ring through my head, repeating themselves over and over. How am I to take care of Eric? Eric takes care of himself, or, at least, I used to think he could. Now, I wasn't so sure. I had never seen him like I had this morning; lost, alone. It was frightening.
I understood how he felt though; he had lost the equivalent of a parent, maybe more. My parents had died when I was young; he and Godric had been together for more than a thousand years.
How could I take care of him? I knew that Bill would never allow it. Bill hated Eric, for reasons why I would never understand. I used to hate Eric, but now that hate was receding and I didn't know if it was a result from his emotional display on the roof, or the result of his blood coursing through me.
I couldn't sleep after I got out of the shower. I sat on the couch in my pajamas; thoughts alternating between the dream that I had had yesterday and the scene on the rooftop this morning. I must have sat there for hours, because when I finally looked at the clock, it was almost six. The vampires would be rising soon, and some already may be up. I looked back into the bed room where Bill still lay, still as death, and made up my mind. I got up and left the room, only traveling to across the hallway. I bit my lip and knocked on Eric's door.
He answered, looking disheveled, not his usual self, with blood still smeared on his face from that morning.
"Oh, Eric," I said, pushing past him into his room. He didn't say anything; he just sat down on the couch. I went into the bathroom and found a washcloth and dampened it and returned to the main room and sat down next to him. I gently began wiping the bloody tearstains off of his face; we didn't speak the whole time. When I was done, I returned the spoiled washcloth to the bathroom and then went back out to Eric, who still hadn't moved. He looked pale, and I didn't know if he had eaten (so to speak) since after we left the church. I went to the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of True Blood.
"Don't bother, I'm not hungry," he said hollowly, startling me so bad I almost dropped the bottle.
"Eric," I said, ignoring his request and putting the bottle into the microwave anyway. "You have to eat."
"No, I don't," he countered, looking at me from across the room. I glared at him.
"Yes, you do. We're going home tonight, and you don't need to be stuffed in a coffin, starving." He glared and looked away from me, and I took that as a sign that he wasn't going to argue. The microwave dinged and I carefully took the bottle of True Blood from inside and shook it to make sure there were no cold or hot spots. I went over to the couch and handed him the bottle. He looked up at me, glaring, but accepted the bottle and took a long swig and I could immediately see color spread on his face. A few minutes later he had drained the bottle. I took it and put it in the trash and then went back to the couch and sat down.
We sat in silence for I don't know how long, neither of us willing to speak and break the silence.
"Thank you, Sookie," he finally said. I looked over at him and took his hand in mine. I knew that it had taken him a lot to say that, and I was appreciative.
"You're welcome," I said. We were silent once more.
"You've lost a loved one, your grandmother died, did she not," he said after a few moments. Pain filled my heart, Gran.
"Yes. Rene murdered her," I said. He looked at me. His hand moved tentatively towards my face. I thought he was going to touch my lips, but at the last minute his hand changed direction and brushed a stray curl out of my face.
"Does it ever get better?" he asked.
"Yes, and no. You learn to live with the pain; you learn to live with remembering. After a while the pain sort of dulls and it doesn't hurt so much to think about them, but the hole they leave in your heart will always be there." I chanced a glance up at Eric, and saw that he was crying again. One bloody tear was trailing down his cheek. I hesitantly reached up and wiped it away with my fingers. Eric seemed to finally remember himself and he stood up.
"Sookie, you should return to your room. Bill will be worried," Eric said. I stood up as well and looked at him.
"I'm here, if you need to talk," I said. He looked at me, and I could swear that just for a second he smiled.
"I will see you when we return to Louisiana, Sookie," Eric said. I thought about hugging him, but decided against it. I headed to the door. As I walked back into my own room, I was thinking about how maybe Eric wasn't so bad after all. I was so in thought, I didn't see where I was going and I almost walked into Bill.
"Sookie, where were you?" he asked, eyeing me. I lied.
"Talking to Jason."