Chapter Text
The sun was warm as she laid out in it. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes now and then, but she ignored them. Being weepy had been part of her daily routine since she’d gotten back. It had been weeks since Jackson, and so far they had been quiet. Just like she’d wanted.
She missed him. She hated herself for it. Then she hated that, since it made sense to get her life back without any of his baggage and his ‘miscalculations’. But it was okay to feel like there was a hole where his presence used to be.
The first morning, after she’d slept herself out and finally gotten a good look at herself in the mirror, she’d been horrified. She wished she’d let him heal her just so she didn’t have to see the marks and the paleness and the shadows in her own eyes. But that wouldn’t have solved anything, and she needed to feel human again, not some vamped up kind of freak. She’d gone down to her kitchen and stared at the pantry doors that led to the cubby. Resolutely she’d turned her back on them, made herself breakfast and eaten it. Then she’d begun the arduous process of getting back to ‘normal’.
She worked shifts at Merlotte’s. She had dinner with Tara and JB DuRone – and where that was going only God knew, but she was happy for her friend. She read, puttered in her garden, listened for any minds that shouldn’t be around. She visited Gran’s grave and told her everything. She healed. It was peaceful.
It was boring. She told herself that that was fine. That was what she wanted.
She’d finally worked up the courage to go down into the cubby a few days ago to see if the sheets needed changing on Eric’s bed down there. And discovered that at some point, maybe even that night he’d called her to check on Bill’s house, he’d brought back the database computer and stashed it there. She’d spent a solid minute laughing at the irony, since Bill would need it to get back on Sophie-Anne’s good side and she’d kicked every vampire out of her life, including him most certainly. She went back up the ladder and into her kitchen and firmly closed the cubby doors.
Eric hadn’t forgotten it was there, she was sure. Vampires had pretty eidetic memories. Pam called hers ‘the Vault’, which had always tickled her. If he hadn’t called her for it yet, it was safe to leave it there. If nothing else, it meant that they would see each other again. Sooner or later. He was merely doing as she’d asked, giving her room to think. At some point, she realized she had forgiven him, although she was still angry at how it all went down. And she was still heartbroken because they should have been better at this by now.
And now she was laying in the sun, just like she used to do. Her tan had faded while she was with her Viking. Every minute that passed she felt more alive as the rays sank into her skin. It should have made her happy. It only reminded her that he wasn’t there.
---
She moved through her days mechanically. She ate, slept, worked. Everyone had noticed that she wasn’t her usual perky self and she knew she should do something about that. Tara asked if things had ended poorly with Eric, the only one who either knew or cared enough to inquire. She told her friend the same thing she’d told him. She just needed some time. Tara held her while she sobbed afterwards, and didn’t point out how much it seemed like she already knew exactly what she needed to. Tara’s experience had left her torn between seeing her friend happy and wanting all vampires staked. In the sun. With maybe some silver for added flair.
She’d begun a habit of staring at the cubby doors and letting her mind wander back to everything they’d done together down there. It usually only lasted until she was disgusted with herself for acting like a lovesick fool. She’d made this decision, she needed to live with it. She needed to stop going back and forth between justifying his actions because that’s how he’d stayed alive all these years and being angry at him for putting her in harm’s way. The cycle was getting old and she was well aware that it was contributing to her inability to get past everything that happened.
She then tried to read the stack of library books she had in the living room, but not one held her attention for long. She felt like something was coming, and didn’t have the faintest idea if that was good or bad. By now the weeks had stretched into months. She was ready for something to happen again.
Maybe.
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On a particular fine evening she was sitting on the porch, swinging idly and watching the scattering of fireflies mingle with the first stars. She could hear the crickets and tree frogs and once an owl. She felt no voids as far as her senses could reach, so she figured she was safe enough for the moment.
In the distance, through the trees that bordered the cemetery, she saw a flash too bright and close to be headlights and she nearly got up to investigate. But she was done with supernatural shit, she reminded herself. She would sit right here on her porch swing and not get involved. Some minutes later, a man stepped out of the treeline and walked right to the bottom step of the porch. He was tall and slender, with a spill of silver hair more luxuriant than her own. His eyes were hooded in the gloaming and she couldn’t tell what color they were, or what expression they carried.
“Hello, Sookie,” he said. His voice was smooth and cultured and while she should have been running back into the house for the shotgun Jason had left there for her, she just looked at the stranger and waited. “I am Niall Brigant. I am your great-grandfather, and I have a proposition for you.”
~Fin~