Previously in Jeopardy Can Wait...

As I waited in the airport's security checkpoint line, I was mentally patting myself on the back for my shields being so strong when a stranger's single stray thought pierced my telepathic walls.

Finally. My chance to have revenge on that Viking.

My eyes widened and I swiveled around, dropping all of my shields to be able to pinpoint the source of that thought as quickly as possible. The thoughts of the crowded airport crashed over me like squall's ocean wave, but I let it pass by me and focused on finding that voice. It was male and clear enough that I was sure it was a human's thought.

In front of me a mother probably a couple years younger than me, held the hand of a little girl who was just about Hunter's age. They caught my attention. The little girl turned to look up at me with wide blue eyes that matched mine.

Focus, Sookie.

My heart hammering against my chest, I went back to trying to sift through the crowds, looking for the source of that threat. It was a Friday afternoon and there didn't seem to be an end in sight to the masses of people. My mind continued to be pounded by the deluge of thoughts, but I couldn't just run away. Maybe if I'd caught something useful like "Once I have a clear shot at Eric Northman's squeeze, I'm going to snipe her brains out." But, of course not. Telepathy didn't work like that. Until I knew what I was up against, I couldn't just duck under a table, hoping the threat would go away. For all I knew, he'd planted a bomb and was walking away so he could safely trigger it. In my experience, madmen didn't care about collateral damage, and there was clearly something a little off about someone who would take out their revenge on their target's loved ones instead of directly on the target.

Finally I caught his thought pattern again, I latched onto his brain and let the other minds fade into the background.

Come out, come out, little lamb. Let me see that pretty blonde head. I have a present waiting just for you.

I almost sighed in relief. I was tired of people trying to kill me, but I was even more fed up with people around me dying. I let go of the handle to my carry-on bag, dropped to my knees and started crawling between the line of people in front of me as fast as I could with my head held low. Even if the sniper decided to take a chance at shooting me, the adults and children around me would be relatively safe. Leg injuries weren't nearly as bad as a shot to the head, chest or stomach.

"Excuse me. Coming through! Pardon me."

Thankfully the time of day meant most of the passengers were flying for fun and not work, which meant instead of the line being one person thick the whole way, I usually managed to have cover on both sides of me by squeezing between folks.

Dammit! Where did she go?

I kept racing along on my knees, squashing toes and feet with my hands and knees if people wouldn't move out of my way fast enough. Eventually my friendly neighborhood shooter would notice the abnormal movement in the line, and I had to get to the security agents before that happened. I kept stealing glances around and finally found him. He was waiting at a table in the restaurant area that was between the two security lines. Due to my vantage point I could see he was holding a gun below the table.

About an hour later, or so it seemed to my knees, I was near the front and I started probing the minds of the security team-members. The TSA agent cross-checking IDs to plane tickets was a former cop who was in her late 50's. She didn't need the money, strictly speaking, but she took the job to keep busy and to start a college trust fund for her grandchildren.

"Annette!" I called out in a voice that hopefully wouldn't be noticed over the noise of the crowd.

With a confused face, the former cop stopped her work and started looking around for the person calling her name.

"Down here!" I peered out from between the legs of the couple at the front of the line. Their faces made it clear they didn't think I was the most stable of individuals. Annette finally found me. "There's a man with a gun in the food court. He's wearing a fedora and a beige trench coat. He's holding the gun underneath the table."

Her eyes went from befuddled to determined in less than a second. She pulled her dispatch radio to her mouth and called out a few orders I couldn't quite discern over the man next to me threatening to kick me if I didn't get my knee off his foot. Oops. I shifted quickly and apologized.

A rush of security folks ran past me and I strained my head to see what was happening in the food court. As soon as he was surrounded and had his empty hands in the air, I stood up and made my way towards the group. His left hand had a leather glove, his right didn't. There was a crowd of bystanders who circled the perimeter of action, even though one agent kept calling for people to keep away. I tried to push my way to the front of the crowd, and was stone-walled by an agent with skin the color of caramel.

"Move away, ma'am. Please back away."

I strained my brain to hear the would-be shooter's thoughts. A snarl of frustration and anger met me along with images of my brain splattered across the airport. Well that was nice.

"I just need to see what's going on." I kept trying to hear what the gunman was saying out loud since his brain decided to switch to other violent images of my corpse. Me with a shot right through my heart. Me with a slit neck, a jet of blood rushing painting the crowd around me ruby red. Real nice fella, that one.

"Where's your purse or luggage?" The agent's stern voice brought me back to the present. It sounded like this wasn't the first time he'd asked me that question.

I turned around and noticed yet another cluster of agents, this time around my little carry-on bag.

"Oh. Uh, there." I pointed at the line.

"Williams, we have a person who claims that bag belongs to them." Before I knew it, two agents flanked me and very politely ushered me into a backroom. So much for figuring out who else wanted me dead.

An hour later, after everything short of a cavity search and being asked what my favorite childhood cartoon was, I found myself back at the security line. No sign of my assailant was left, and unlike my supernatural friends, sniffing around the table he vacated wouldn't do me much good. I had only fifteen minutes to get to my gate, but thankfully the crowds had died down and I was whisked through security uneventfully.

Once I settled into my comfy window seat by the emergency exit and assured the stewardess I could handle the responsibility, I found myself lost in thought.

My mind drifted back to the last time I flew in a plane. It had been the airplane Sophie-Anne chartered to Rhodes and I'd had a nice long chat with Mr. Cataliades and his nieces. The cluviel dor entered my mind. It was almost like a deus ex machina... Except it couldn't give me my deepest wish: a normal life. I looked out the window and at the clouds below.

If I couldn't get rid of my telepathy, was there a way to keep the supernatural out of my life? I thought back to life before Bill. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had only been about two years. I had been so very lonely, even with Gran still alive. I felt like I had no real future, and my present had been less than wonderful. Any little out of the ordinary thing I treasured and thought back on a lot, because there really was nothing else in my life besides work, reading and housework.

Even if it was possible that Mr. Cataliades, the Queen, Niall and Eric had never known about my telepathy, would I have stayed away? I was beyond thrilled to finally meet a vampire when Bill Compton walked though those doors. Would I have never ventured to Fangtasia? And even if I didn't, wasn't I bound to meet a vampire at some point in my life? Once I did, would I have been able to resist the temptation of a blank mind?

Then there was Sam to consider, he was a supe too. What if wishing away the non-human meant he would never settle down in Bon Temps? Would I have ever found a job I could stay at? Before Merlotte's I went through so many workplaces because of hearing my bosses' thoughts. I couldn't live without having a job to pay the bills and keep me busy. I knew those work-at-home jobs were usually scams, and the legitimate ones required a computer-which I wouldn't have been able to afford.

No. Even if I could manage it, I wouldn't want a life without supernaturals. By the time I sifted through all those possibilities and came to that conclusion, the short flight from Shreveport to Dallas was over. As tempting an idea as it was, I opted to not crawl through the airport on my hands and knees to avoid any phantom snipers. But my vigilance had a cost that was far worse than public humiliation: I needed to keep all my shields down for the duration of the ayover.

As the massive headache due to the hundreds of brains in my mind set in, the logical part of me argued this was all very unnecessary. I knew the chances were slim that the jerk with a grudge had managed to arrive at the Dallas airport, behind the security checkpoints, with a gun. Or that he'd been able to hire a hitman in this short amount of time to do the same. But I had a bad feeling about the airport, and I've learned to trust my intuition.

Boarding the airplane filled with just a hundred people was such a relief-the Dallas airport was a lot bigger than Shreveport's. If someone in the airport was trying to engage in some twisted plot of revenge against Eric by ending me, they kept their thoughts very well hidden. I was so worn out by the time I found my assigned seat on the plane that I fell asleep as soon as I sat down and didn't wake up until we landed in San Francisco.

By the time I collected my luggage from the carousel at SFO, I felt like it should've been early evening, but the sun still hadn't set. I waited in line at the Anubis desk to ride in their hotel shuttle with Pam's coffin. The line was quite long, but the staff seemed prepared for the conference and they worked very efficiently. I contemplated dropping my shields to see if any of the humans in line with me had devious plans, even though my spidey sense told me I was out of immediate danger. When I tried to let my shields slip down a little, a blast of pain ricocheted through my head and I gave up on that idea right away. Telepathic spying would just have to wait.

We were staying at the InterContinental hotel adjacent to the Moscone West Convention Center. The InterContinental was stunning, a tall building of blue glass with modern concrete columns running vertically along the long side of hotel. Once I was in our hotel suite with Pam's coffin, I peered out the window at the gorgeous view of the city. It was breathtakingly beautiful and in the distance I could see the bay. I watched the sun set in a fiery glory of pinks and oranges over the bay. I was so entranced with catching every last second before the twilight that I didn't hear Eric enter the room until his voice rang out behind me.

"What are you doing here?"

A/N - Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think via reviews! :) Just so you know, I'll be changing my username to EricBonesVlad when I post the next chapter. And yes, I do think TB!Eric in season 3 was a little off-balance.