Fly Me to the Moon, Part 2

**A/N: Here’s the second, and final, installment of Fly Me to the Moon – hope you enjoy!**

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Sookie stirred as the call of nature pinged at her subconscious until she had no choice but to fall out of sleep. It took her a moment to wriggle out from under the dead weight of the huge arm holding her into the cool body snuggled up behind her, but she finally did. After a few frantic moments spent searching for the bathroom in the strange bedroom, she finally found her salvation in the form of a toilet…sitting beside another white porcelain device that she’d only seen in magazines touting spendy home decorating ideas she’d never use.

Once the reason for the visit was over, she took a long look around the bathroom, and snickered. Its function might be of the fundamental variety, but its sandy beige, cream, and light brown decor really did look exactly like something out of one of those old mags currently gathering dust on her coffee table.

The two-person shower called to her, so she gladly succumbed to the lure and took a long, hot shower using the handy masculine-scented body products. She found that she didn’t mind smelling like Eric in more ways than one. As she washed her hair, she remembered another shower from another time, and smiled happily for a bit, then frowned.

Just because she had been ever so thankfully able to save Eric’s life, and just because they had spent the rest of the night seeing if her “fairy vagina” had additional powers, didn’t mean that their problems were over, not by a long shot. The main thing, however, was that Eric was healing. He had said that he felt cured, but even so she had asked him how he was feeling half a dozen times before they’d both crashed at dawn’s early light.

Startled by the memory of Eric’s words the night before, by his anger – of all things – when she’d admitted to him that she was scared, Sookie leaned against the sink counter and thought for a minute. He’d said “without end”, and it seemed like he’d really meant it, too.

Still, she concluded as she toweled off with the luxurious French linens, she was here, and he was here. That certainly beat their most recent records by too many country miles to count. Maybe they’d have a chance to figure out where it all went so wrong, and she’d be able to…

With a ‘hrumph’ she decided that she didn’t really have to make it up to him about being with Alcide…he had to have gotten that Hep V from someone since she didn’t think the infected bottles of True Blood had made it to France, and Eric would rarely “feed” without having the “fuck”, too. If he’d stayed around after all that crap was over, things might have been different.

Or not, she concluded in a rare moment of self-awareness. But still…

She just wish fucking Pam had given her a chance to close up her house and pack for this trip she complained to herself as she scouted around for something to wear. Of course, having a choice would have been nice, too.

Her jeans were still clean enough to wear again so she put them on, but her shirt and underwear… She hand-washed her ‘delicates’ and hung them in the bathroom to dry, and since she just couldn’t bring herself to put the wrinkled, travel-worn shirt back on, she tossed it atop the hamper near the sink. Afterward she rifled through the chest-of-drawers in the bedroom until she found one of Eric’s old Fangtasia tee-shirts.

With a kiss to his cool, still forehead, and a pat to his world-class derriere before she covered him up, she left the bedroom.

Finally she found the kitchen, and while most of the appliances were what she was used to using in her own house, the coffee maker looked like it needed an engineering degree to operate. Eventually she figured it out, and while her coffee was brewing she realized why she hadn’t fought Pam harder about the kidnapping: Pam led to Eric.

Her subconscious must have known that Pam’s actions had to do with Eric, or that maybe she was taking her to him. What she objected to was Pam’s less than delicate handling and her insistence that they leave right then.

Oh well, she thought as she happily sipped her coffee while looking around the interior of the villa. At least it had worked. She couldn’t imagine how she’d have felt if Eric had just shown up in Bon Temps one night with those painful looking veins going all over the place like that. All in all, maybe it was better that it happened this way.

She saw a set of doors leading off the kitchen, and opened one to reveal a large walled-in back garden with pavers leading to a small seating area. The walls were lined with flowering shrubs and bushes and the air was almost heavy with all the amazing scents and colors. Even the bird songs sounded different. She noticed that the air itself smelled and felt different in France, and she decided to appreciate it with another cup of coffee while sitting on one of the chairs that looked like they were carved from stone.

After pouring herself another cup of coffee and settling herself on the stone chair at the wrought iron table, she took a few minutes to simply enjoy the peace and quiet. A warm breeze finished drying her hair as she thought about everything that had happened during the past day or so. And the night…she definitely thought about all that had passed between herself and Eric the night before, and couldn’t help but grin and blush.

Being here with Eric, being in Eric’s house, felt weird, but it felt right, too. He had been filled with anger and disbelief the night before, and that hadn’t made sense to her in one way.

He was the one who left. Maybe things would have been different if she’d stopped him, if she’d called out to him and just plain asked him to stay, but at that point he’d been through so much she wasn’t sure even that would have worked.

It had broken her heart when he had simply given her house back to her and…left. It had felt so final, so…sadly final. She sniffed and blinked a few times before deciding that she was hungry.

She wandered back in and riffled through the kitchen. Earlier she’d been surprised enough to find a new package of coffee and a full carton of milk in the small refrigerator, but when she also found unopened bacon, eggs, butter, and what she guessed was some form of sausage, she realized that someone, most likely Pam, had been sent to gather supplies for her.   The fact that a small loaf of bread had been shoved in beside the butter didn’t surprise her, but the small jar of apple butter did.

Long after having finished her food, Sookie sat at the kitchen table slowly twirling a bit of bread through the eggy butter left on her plate. Her mind was a jumbled mess as she thought about the people left behind in Bon Temps.

Alcide, and his weird wolfy attitude and possessive behaviors.

Sam, and his decision to play Mayor of a decidedly non-Bon Temps and how weird he’d been acting lately.

Jason, and his continuing weird thing with that weird vamp lady.

Arlene, and her weird decision to buy Merlotte’s Bar and Grill and change it into, of all things, Bellefleur’s Bar and Grill. No matter how well you greased a pig, it was still a pig.

And then there was Bill and his weird…everything.

So…apparently she hadn’t actually left much of anything behind in Bon Temps. She missed her house, but even it was needing more and more work to keep up, and it wasn’t like Alcide would get off his lazy ass and do the things she couldn’t. And he sure as hell wasn’t paying rent, or anything toward the utilities or for all that food he literally wolfed down his gullet.

He just wanted her to dress up like Red Riding Hood at night and The Grandma during the day so he could parade her around looking like a little old lady paired up with his prematurely graying hair.

With a huff she rose and cleaned her dishes, then looked at the clock. Eric would be rising soon, and she wasn’t sure what to say to him.

No matter how well it had ended…several times, it was all still a mess.

In the early hours of the morning before, Pam had literally broken into her house – why, oh why hadn’t she ever thought to rescind Pam’s invitation? – vamped up to her in the kitchen where she’d just finished washing dishes, and tossed her over her shoulder. Once in the huge Hummer parked in her yard – and why hadn’t she heard something that huge coming down her driveway? – she had kept the pissed off fairy hybrid caged in her arms until they’d quickly arrived at some air field Sookie had never seen before.

After boarding the obviously private plane, Pam had spoken briefly with the over-glamoured flight attendant, and then locked herself into a pink coffin for the duration of the 11-plus hour flight. Even though the pilots had been over-glamoured as well, at least Sookie had been able to read their destination, but had no idea why the hell they were going to France of all places.

Throughout all this, Pam had completely ignored every attempt Sookie had made to try to talk to her. All the flight attendant did was try to shove food down her throat every time she turned around.

Sookie was still extremely irate at Pam.  While she understood her reasons now, her attitude and method left much to be desired.

It was with this thought in mind that she sensed someone behind her and she automatically grabbed the handful of wooden skewers she’d found in one of the kitchen drawers and turned around with them raised for use.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s this?” Eric, wearing a pair of silk pajama pants and nothing else, had wisely taken a step back as he wondered what was wrong with Sookie. It always amazed her how he could go from totally dead to the world to completely wide awake in an instant.

“Oh, sorry,” she gasped in relief as she lowered the wooden skewers and tossed them on the counter behind her. “I thought you were Pam sneaking up behind me to kidnap me again.”

It would take a while for her nerves to calm down after something like that. Being kidnapped pretty damn low on her list of “fun” activities.

Both of Eric’s brows rose.

Kidnap?

As he fought to think back through the Hep V tainted fog that coated his memories of the night before, he vaguely remembered that it hadn’t seemed like Sookie had been there very willingly, but it had mainly appeared as though Pam had just been being her normally rude self to the part-fairy. She did love to taunt and rile Sookie, he remembered that much, and he had thought that their bickering was simply that – bickering.

Kidnap?

A cold fist clenched his gut as he realized that Sookie truly had not been given any choice in coming to save him. While his pre-healing memories of the night before were foggy at best, he distinctly remembered a warm feeling of joy when he had first seen her. And, while he’d sensed that her appearance hadn’t been entirely by choice, he had also known that if she truly hadn’t wanted to be there, she wouldn’t have been. After all, her fairy light was a weapon.

But now he wondered…

Had she been willing when she’d offered her light? Her blood?

Her body?

Well, she had indeed actively participated in the “fairy vagina” part of the cure. He had that, at least.

“She actually kidnapped you?” His anger toward his bitch progeny was growing by the second. Thankfully he normally kept the bond between them closed or she would have been forewarned of the molten lava slowly bubbling under the surface.

“Yes! She broke into my house, threw me over her shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes, and held me caged on her lap with her hand over my mouth until we got on some plane. Then she went and locked herself in her fucking coffin and never once did she tell me what we were doing or why or even where we were going no matter how many times I begged and screamed to know!” Sookie voice rose with her remembered irritation.

“You mean she never gave you any choice?” Eric clarified – he was both hurt and livid. Trust Pam…fucking Pam.

“No, not even once. She didn’t even tell me you were sick, Eric! She never even gave me the chance to say yes or no. Not that I would have refused,” she added strongly after seeing the fleeting look on his face. “If I’d known, I would have been glad to pack a bag and come on over here, but she didn’t even bother telling me anything.”

“Like you really would have come,” Pam said drolly as she casually strolled into the kitchen. She went over to the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of Sang Vrai, the newly-created French version of True Blood, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, and stepped to the microwave with her back to the room.

“We’ll never know now, will we, Pamela,” he said, his tone cold and biting.

He’d thought… He’d let himself think…

His voice froze Pam’s movement as she was about to heat her drink, and she gasped as she felt the full force of Eric’s seething anger when he suddenly opened their bond.

He may have released her a while back, but the bond between Maker and Child would never fade.

“You gave her no choice? No chance to pack a bag? No chance to see to her home before you simply…stole her?” Eric realized that he shouldn’t be surprised. Pam had been jealous and disdainful of the fairy hybrid for far too long already.

“Eric, she wouldn’t have come otherwise,” she began, her artificially-subservient, whiny tone grating to both Eric and Sookie. As she reached to open the door to the microwave, Eric ordered her to stop.

“If you choose to remain in my presence, you will drink only Sang Vrai, cold, for the next two months. You may not feed from any live donor for at least six months. I do not wish for you to contract Hep V as you will never be allowed to drink from my Sookie. Am I clear?”

Pam didn’t say anything, but opened the bottle of faux blood.

Eric vamped over to the blonde vampire, grabbed her arm, and turned her around.

“Am. I. Clear,” he demanded, his fangs mere inches from Pam’s shocked face. It was very obvious that she had fully expected there to be no consequences for her treatment of Sookie.

With a squeak, she faintly replied, “Yes, Master.”

“Finish your meal then leave.”

She could tell by the tone of his voice that it would be a while before she could use his credit cards again. She downed the cold, nasty liquid and quickly excused herself from the room.

Sookie was stunned. She’d never heard Eric sound that cold and harsh, and while a small part of her silently rejoiced in his cold treatment toward Pam, she was mostly just sad that there was a problem between them at all.

“Eric,” she started, but stopped when he ignored her to leave the room.

Ugh, men!

Fuck that, she thought. She hadn’t done anything wrong!

She took a deep breath, then yelled at the top of her lungs, “Eric fucking Northman, you get your ass back here right this minute. Don’t you dare walk away from me, buddy!”

A second later he reappeared, his mouth and eyes set in hard, angry stone…but at least his fangs had been retracted.

As he towered over her, pressing her back against the kitchen counter, she bravely raised her hand to cup his cheek.

“I don’t want to get involved between you and Pam, but Eric, I know she’d move the world for you,” she said, the warmth in her eyes slowly melting the ice cold blue in his own. “I wish she had given me a choice, I really do, and not just so that I could have packed a damn bag, but so that you would know that I chose to come help you, that I chose you. Because I do – I choose you, Eric.”

Eric was flummoxed. That was the very last thing he would have expected to hear her say. As the tension melted from his body, he placed a hand on the counter on each side of her, and leaned down.

Although the lines in his face had softened, his lips were still firmed, and doubt still tightened his eyes.

“Repeat that,” he ordered, his blue eyes boring into hers.

Smiling softly as she stroked his cheek with her thumb, she said, “Eric, I choose you. I’ve been missing you for months, thinking about you, remembering how things were between us…”

Her words trailed off under the scalding demand of his mouth as his lips and tongue tasted and plundered. She looped her arms about his neck and gladly returned his passion.

“Say it again,” he demanded, raising his head barely enough to mouth the words against her reddened lips.

“You,” she said breathlessly, brushing her own lips against his as she repeated, “I choose you.”

He immediately lowered his head again, and groaned his pleasure when a few moments later she leaned back enough to assure once more, “You, and only you” before recapturing his lips.

Finally, after many long, breathless minutes, he raised his head and looked down into her eyes.

“Eric fucking Northman, huh?” He grinned down at his Sookie, enjoying the blush tinting her smiling cheeks.

Sookie looked up into blue eyes twinkling with humor…and love.

“Yeah, buddy,” she confirmed, humor and love dancing in her own warm gaze as she tried to hide her grin. “Don’t you be walking away from me like that,” she added as she gave in and let her smile flood her face.

With a surprisingly boyish grin of his own, he brushed her hair behind her ear. “That,” he paused, and unnecessarily cleared his throat before he continued. “That sounds like something a wife would say to her husband…”

He stroked his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips before shyly meeting her shocked gaze.

She had never seen him so open with his love, nor so…shy?

With a shocked gasp, full realization of his words struck.

“Well, yeah, it kinda does,” she finally said as her eyes sparkled with hope and tentative wonder. “It really does.”

Her resulting smile and nod of acceptance lit up the few remaining dark places in his heart just before he lowered his head to recapture her lips in a sealing kiss.

France had wisely legalized vampire marriages the year before.

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**A/N:  I hope you enjoyed the second part to this little story.  Thanks for reading!**

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