A/N: This is set post-DAG, but I have taken some liberties with cannon, so just … put on your flexible reading hat ;D
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
~Trent Reznor, Hurt
She sits on the porch of her old house, her old life, as the creeping dawn gathers around her.
It's just around the corner … she can smell it. She takes a deep, now-unnecessary breath, trying to capture the very last few moment of darkness.
How had everything gone so wrong? Ah, well. It figured. Why should her luck have changed in death?
It was the casualties of the Fae war that were the last nail in her coffin. It wasn't all the broken bones, bruises and cuts that she'd endured over the years – it was all the lives extinguished in her name. And, even more so, it was the endless carpet of death that kept rolling out, infinitely, it would seem, behind her and in front of her.
When would it end?
As long as she had her telepathic ability, she would be a prized and fought-over asset, at the mercy of the latest vampire whose eye she caught. She was done waiting for the next crisis; she realized now that she was the only one who could stop it.
She'd known it was a big old gamble when she hatched the plan. But she figured the odds were in her favor, and besides, there was always that final failsafe.
She'd heard rumors; that the sheriff of Dallas had been a telepath in life and had lost his mind-reading abilities when he was turned. Sure, it was far from empirical evidence, but at least it seemed that it was possible for her to be 'normal', or at least, a 'normal' vampire. No extra special talent would mean no more vamps fighting over her.
All she had to do was die first.
Sadly, there weren't many loose ends to tie. But the thing that made it even sadder was that this lack of remaining roots to bind her to her old life—it didn't make her cry or ache or … anything, really. Nothing seemed to be able to break through the monochrome of gray tones that was now her heart. So she just made that call to her boss & friend, Sam, telling him she needed some time off. He was more than understanding, of course, as she knew he no doubt would be. Then she packed up one lone suitcase—she didn't really need to bring much with her, after all—locked the door, and sat in her Gran's rocking chair, waiting for the night to hurry up and swallow up the day.
She picked up her phone when the shadows grew longer. She held it in her hand and closed her eyes, taking in the last moments of the day. When she opened her eyes again, her lover was standing in front of her. She smiled and walked into his arms.
And then, she softly whispered into his neck, asking for what she knew he was powerless to refuse.
After all, it was the very thing he had begged her for, almost as long as he'd known her. He was suspicious at first, of course, at her sudden change of mind. But after seeing the resolution in her heart, he relented. Their tears, happiness and resignation, grief and blood, ran into each others' as their lips met for one last time before forever.
At least she'd known it had all gone wrong from the moment she rose. Hell, even before that.
She stayed submerged in semi-consciousness while she acclimated herself to the new cooler temperature of her body and the absence of the rhythms of life. She could feel her lover's arms wrapped around her tightly, as his hopes and dreams and fears spilled into her—uninvited, unrelenting, unbelievable. They were the truths she'd always yearned for—of adoration, passion, and unwavering loyalty; the truths she'd hoped for but was always too afraid to ask for.
Yet, the medium was heart shattering.
She met her new world with a grimace, reveling in the strength and power of her new reality, even though she was now finally, irrevocably broken, with the knowledge that she had gambled big, and lost even bigger.
Not only had she not lost her telepathic ability, it had been vamped up. Way up. She could hear her lover's thoughts as clearly as her own.
This would certainly not solve anything. Not a damn thing.
She shuddered at the thought of what would happen when her new and improved ability was discovered. How long would it take for another greedy vampire to discover her? And how much longer still until more deaths would follow in the wake of her so-called gift?
And just like that, she made up her mind before she even opened her eyes.
She would have one night; just a few short hours filled with firsts and lasts.
As she looked up at her lover, she vowed to herself that she would take it, and live every moment as if it were an eternity. Because in the end, this was the only gift she could bestow upon her lover, and it would have to keep him for a long time after she was gone. She truly wished that she could give him more, but she was done. She simply could not shoulder being the cause, even indirectly, of any more violent murders.
As she accompanied her lover to his bar, she was careful to conceal her heightened ability, even as the torrent of human and vampire thoughts drowned out her own.
Instead, she anchored herself on the blue oceans of her lover's eyes.
When dawn approached, she asked, once again, for what she knew he was powerless to refuse.
He understood that she would need to grieve for the end of her life, so when she begged for some space, he gave it to her without a fight. So he let her remain downstairs by herself as he retired to the bedroom. After all, the entire house was lightproof; he could afford to give her this.
She waited, longer than she wanted, longer than she could bear, until it would be too late.
She stilled herself with the promise that soon, she would run.
Soon, she would see the sun for the very last time.
And soon, she would do the right thing, for herself and everyone who had ever had the miserable luck of knowing her.
She was concentrating so much on all that soon would bring, would mean, would feel like, that she barely noticed the magical pop that took her right to the doorstep of all her noble resolutions.
She opened her eyes with a start, shocked yet relieved to find herself at her old house, with the day seeping into the edges of the night. Too late, yet with time to spare.
She barely pauses to think how she'd managed to magically transported over here; she is just grateful, because she's far enough, and it's late enough, that she was now out of her lover's reach—even though he is the oldest, most powerful vampire around.
Instead, she makes herself comfortable, closing her eyes as she rocks back and forth in that familiar chair, waiting for the searing heat of the sun to claim her.
But when it comes, it is far from what she had expected.
The sun feels as it always has—warm and soft and heaven against her skin.
She lets it sink into her, bracing for the burn that's sure to come.
She waits. And waits some more.
Slowly, her eyes flutter open and grow wide with disbelief even as her pupils narrow to take in the brightness of the sun. She looks down at her skin, but there are no flames, not even a hint of trauma to the skin.
How was this even possible?
She dials up the only person who might have answers for her, her great-grandfather.
"Explain this to me. Now!"
"How can a vampire sunbathe?"
There is a gasp, only audible to her heightened hearing. Then, an agonizing pause, followed by an answer that really answers nothing.
"It must be the Fae in your blood. There is not a lot of it, but what there is of it, is strong."
The scream of pure rage fills her body, but escapes her lips with nothing more than a menacing growl.
She flings the phone away, and only vaguely registers the sound of the thing smashing to bits when it hits the ground, as she closes her eyes and lets the warmth of the sun wash over her.
She works hard over the next few hours, not to think about anything but the delicious sensation of the sun against her skin. Not to connect the lines that her Fae blood would explain how she'd managed to pop over to her house from miles away; Nor to consider what options remained for her to end her life, or un-death, as the case may be. But especially, she tries not to think of the lover who she didn't really want to leave.
She was working so hard at it, that she barely noticed the hours pass.
She just stayed in her Gran's chair, sinking into herself as she let the sun's warmth sink into her skin.
But when she feels his eyes on her, she can no longer keep hers closed. She meets her lover's gaze steadily, even as her body trembles and falls apart at the pain she sees underneath the frozen blue.
Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words, but his eyes silence her.
How do you excuse away the utter devastation that you were willing to cause? Did it really make a difference that it didn't work? Or that now, only after the failed attempt, she was relieved that it hadn't?
The single streak of blood that marks a grieving path along his cheek before he turns away was her answer.
A/N: Sooo, what'd ya think? Please review and let me know :) Oh, and btw, this was totally inspired by Johnny Cash's rendition of Hurt.
A/N: A gazillion slobbery Nutella kisses to my amazing beta, LanYap. But, I added a lot of stuff before I posted, so any remaining mistakes are purely my own :)
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to the Sookie Stackhouse Series or the HBO series True Blood