The Dead Pan Contest

Title: The Secret Life of Eric Northman

Story/movie parodied: "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" as well as various films (see Author's Note at end for complete list)

Characters: Eric, Sookie, Pam (major); Andre, Victor, Bill, Preston (minor)

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the characters, settings, or dialogue from the story/films parodied in this work.

Summary: Dead Pan contest entry. Marketing exec Eric Northman has a bad-tempered wife and an overactive imagination. When the going gets tough, his fantasies get going! AH. Multiple parodies.

The Secret Life of Eric Northman

He carefully places his torch into a crevice in the ancient temple's wall before scooping the dirt and stone into a tattered burlap sack. The weight of the sack will be critical when he replaces it for the golden idol he has traveled thousands of miles to retrieve. Although Brody has funded his journey to the South American jungle, he alone will reap the benefits once the idol is in his possession. Armed now with his filled sack, a torch and a bullwhip, he adjusts his brown fedora and leather jacket to ready himself for adventure.

He is Dr. Eric "Louisiana" Northman, Professor of Archaeology, OSS agent, expert on the occult, and how does one say it... obtainer of rare antiquities. And damn sexy, too, in a rugged treasure-hunter sort of way.

"Weezy" Northman (the nickname Louisiana just has too many syllables) cautiously winds his way through the underground temple, smart enough to know such holy premises must be surrounded by deadly booby traps. The torch light guides him forward, but he abruptly halts when he sees daylight streaming through cracks in the ancient ceiling. He slowly extends his hand into the trail of light and immediately the floor shakes as poisonous darts shoot across the path before him. A deep chasm separates him from stable ground, so he quickly uses his bullwhip to expertly latch onto an extending upper ledge and swing across the gorge to safety. He follows a set of steep stone stairs and after rubbing a Peruvian fertility totem in just the "right" way, a central platform rises from the ground, revealing the precious idol. As Weezy surveys and admires the treasure before him, he mentally calculates its weight and carefully removes some dirt from the sack. This is the tricky part... replacing the idol with the weighted sack so as not to disturb the ancient yet deadly safeguards in place to protect the holy treasure. He wipes his sweaty forehead on his shirt sleeve, his long blond hair spilling from either side of the dirty fedora. He rubs the sexy stubble on his chin and braces for the exchange. In a flash, he smoothly swaps the sack for the idol and all seems well. Smirking, he breathes a sigh of relief, clutching the artifact as he turns to leave the inner temple.

But all is not well. As the platform with the false idol descends back into the hallowed ground, the walls begin crumbling around him and the ceiling collapses in large pieces. Rocks and dirt shower down as Weezy leaps the stairs and jumps over the splitting ground. He tries to catch his breath, but a steady hissing sound elevates his heart rate even more. Fear creeps in when he realizes what the hissing must mean.

Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?

As he continues to run for his life, he has lost his torch and ability to see the swirling serpents surrounding his feet (thankfully). A loud rumble, much like thunder, builds around the continual hissing, and he knows it can only mean trouble. Much to his horror, a giant boulder releases from within the cavern and steamrolls towards him at rapid speed. He runs as he has never run before, grasping the idol and swearing in several of the many languages he has mastered. The thundering rumble grows louder while the hissing is replaced by a whistle. He follows the sound; it strengthens as he reaches the entrance of the cave. The boulder continues on its destructive path as he leaps aside, dragging himself and the treasure to higher ground. The whistle keeps shrieking its siren call. It must belong to a train located here, oddly enough, in the wild jungles of central Peru. If he just follows the sound, he can escape by train, back to teaching college and fighting the Nazis…

"Eric! What in God's name are you doing?" the attractive blonde barked as she shook her husband's shoulders with force. "The kettle's been boiling over, and I find you staring out the kitchen window, watching the storm like you haven't a care in the world!"

Pam Northman was pissed, and when she was pissed, she could be as mean as a pit of vipers. The workday had been a stressful one again, and she had been looking forward to a relaxing evening, reading the latest finance journal and sipping a large cup of Earl Gray by the fire. The thunderstorm had made her commute home a living hell today, and the last thing she wanted to do was deal with her distracted husband's inability to make a proper cup of tea.

"Sorry, dear," Eric replied sheepishly, wiping his sweaty forehead on his shirt sleeve. He turned off the light under the shrieking kettle, lowering its cry to a steady hiss before it fell silent. As thunder clapped loudly outside, he brought down two mugs from the cupboard and poured out their tea, his heart rate slowly calming.

"Honestly, Eric, it's not like you do much all day long, even when you're at the office. Is it too much to ask you to pay a little attention to me when I get home? Or did your tennis match this afternoon wear you out?" she snapped.

He ignored her snide comments, letting them roll away like water off a duck's back. After ten years of marriage, he was used to his wife's occasional rants and cutting remarks; it was a small price to pay, after all, for the "easy" life he led. When he agreed to marry into her family's fortune, he accepted everything that went along with the Pamela Ravenscroft package: the cushy executive position created by her father; the country club membership; the fancy homes; the sporty cars; the exotic travel; the lavish lifestyle. And the package perks far outweighed his wife's natural bitchiness and controlling nature. Besides, there were ways to escape his wife (and life) when he needed to. And he often needed to.

"Here you go, dear," he responded sweetly, handing her a steaming mug of Earl Gray, hoping to quell her anger with tea. She was British, after all, so this practiced strategy worked more often than it failed.

"Let's go sit by the fire, and I'll give you a massage," he whispered in a husky voice. "I'm good with my hands," he reminded her before lightly kissing her cheek. But she bristled at his gentle touch; she was cold both inside and out tonight, and she would have none of his peace offerings.

"I think I'll take my tea in the sitting room…. by myself," she added, leaving her husband alone in their gourmet kitchen, with only his teacup and a fleeting memory of adventure in a Peruvian jungle.

oooOOooo

The executive offices for Ravenscroft Industries were located in an impressive high-rise in central Manhattan. Naturally. The company's founder and CEO, Simon Ravenscroft, had relocated his international headquarters from London to New York City years ago; it showed the world he was a big player in the world of big business. He was ruthless and demanding when it came to his work, traits that his daughter (the Executive Vice-President) inherited. Loyalty to "The Company" was valued above all else, and Ravenscroft's employees were constantly reminded of that fact.

The marbled lobby area was buzzing this morning as employees rushed to start another workday, caught up in the frenzy of meeting deadlines and making money. Eric Northman, however, was unaffected by the hustle and bustle surrounding him. Using the express elevator doors as a mirror, he straightened his designer tie and brushed aside some stray blond hairs from his face. He was running late for an important board meeting upstairs, but so what? Would he get fired? Absolutely not. Maybe a little chewed out by his wife, or even worse—by his father-in-law—but it wasn't anything that overly concerned him. What interested him much more was the reflection of an attractive woman hurrying towards him with an armful of binders. She was clearly carrying more than her arms could support and as she struggled to free a finger to reach for the UP button, she was relieved to see it was already lit. Eric smiled at her when she looked up at him, and her face brightened in recognition.

"Good morning, Mr. Northman," her sweet voice sang out. She definitely knew him, yet he couldn't recall having seen her before. He frequently struggled to remember people he was introduced to, only because he was often distracted and forgetful about so many things. But the blonde beauty before him was unforgettable; he certainly would have remembered having met her.

"I seem to be at a slight disadvantage here," he replied with a broad grin. "And who might you be?"

"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse, your wife's new assistant," she replied as she moved closer to him. Her drawl was pure Southern and reminded him of home. She smelled of lavender and vanilla and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint, something uniquely her. It was irresistible.

Eric recalled Pam saying she had hired a new employee, the latest in an ever-changing rotation of women either too incompetent or too spineless to hold their own against his wife. He hoped this one would survive; she was certainly more pleasant to look at than some of Pam's previous assistants. Her soft blue eyes penetrated his; her long blonde hair, an identical color to his own, softly framed her face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stackhouse," he said, extending his hand to her in greeting. As Sookie tried to return the gesture, the binders slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor in a scattered mess. She blushed a little with embarrassment and then knelt down to start gathering the fallen materials.

"Here, let me help you with that," Eric volunteered and bent down beside her. He couldn't help but notice her generous breasts and the perfect curves filling her tight blouse and short skirt. She was very attractive, and Eric was a little taken aback by his growing arousal. Although his wife was quite striking, Pam had more of a slim, athletic build, no thanks to the hours she spent each week with a personal trainer. But the lovely woman currently next to him was soft and feminine and curvaceous—something out of a classic Hollywood movie.

"Um, thanks, Mr. Northman," she said, a bit flustered. "These binders are for today's meeting, and I should have had them in the board room ten minutes ago, but the express elevator was taking forever, and the copy center misplaced my binder order, and… oh god, Ms. Northman is going to be so mad at me…" she started babbling and sniffling, obviously concerned about not fulfilling her new job responsibilities.

"Shh, it's okay… don't worry, Ms. Stackhouse," he assured her, gathering a stray binder that had worked its way to his side. He was afraid she was going to start crying, and that was something he preferred to avoid at all costs.

DING!

The express elevator doors opened and workers began filing out and filing in, expertly walking around the two kneeling employees and their binders.

"You really should go up, Mr. Northman. The meeting has already started, and Mr. Ravenscroft is there today and…"

"Nonsense," Eric replied as he stood back up. "Don't worry about the meeting or the binders. I'll take full responsibility for you being delayed with the materials," he said kindly as he extended his hand to her in assistance.

She tried her best to gracefully stand up as she took his hand. He might have been mistaken, but it felt as though a tiny spark shot through him when their fingers made contact. He held on a little longer than proper etiquette allowed, and she gasped a little, abruptly removing her hand.

DING!

The elevator doors were starting to close again, but Eric quickly placed a long leg in the pathway and the doors opened once more. He asked the passengers to hold the door, before returning to Sookie and the binders. They quickly gathered the materials and joined the rest of the crowd heading for the top floor—the posh location of the financial offices, executive boardroom, and today's meeting.

DING!

The express elevator shot heavenward as its occupants maintained a polite silence. Sookie clutched several binders and smiled at Eric in gratitude before returning to stare in front of her, just as proper elevator protocol required. The steady humming and rapid ascent of the elevator were almost hypnotic, urging Eric to close his eyes and relax. It reminded him of flying—the same feelings of lightness and suspension while being propelled higher and higher, lost in the clouds above.

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling weak and disoriented. When he was finally able to focus, he realized he was sitting at a table across from a beautiful woman, one who had a gun pointed directly at his heart.

"Good morning, Mr. Northman," she said with a Southern drawl both sexy and confident. She smelled of lavender and vanilla and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I seem to be at a slight disadvantage here," he replied with a broad grin. "And who might you be?"

"My name is Sookie Galore. But you may call me Pussy, if you'd like."

They stared at each other for a moment while all sorts of double entendres went through his head. This was going to be an enjoyable assignment.

"I thought I was going to wake up dead," he quipped while rubbing his aching arm and shoulder beneath his black dinner jacket.

"Tranquilizer gun," she explained, motioning with the weapon in her hand. She stood and tucked the gun into her waistband, revealing her abundant curves and ample bosom in a tight, lavender button-down shirt and pants ensemble considered sexy in the 1960's.

"Well, I am delighted to be here, Miss Galore. And by the way, where is 'here'?"

"35,000 feet, flying SW over Newfoundland," she replied casually as she picked up a binder from the table. She clutched it to her generous breasts before looking out the cabin window.

"Oh, that explains the humming…" Northman said.

She turned to look at her passenger. "The humming means you are in Mr. Goldfinger's Lockheed private jet, heading to Fort Knox, where my fellow pilots and I plan to drop nerve gas to make our employer a very wealthy man," she admitted.

"Goldfinger's quite mad, you know."

"No, he just really likes gold," she stated as she headed to the cockpit.

In a flash, secret agent 0069 had reached her side and grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. Her scent was intoxicating.

"I would like to think you're not part of his crazy plan," he chided in an odd Scottish accent. Odd for an agent born in London, anyway.

"Skip it, I'm not interested," she said. As she jerked free from his grasp, the binder was sent flying. Her long blonde hair brushed his face as she struggled, seriously arousing 0069 in the process.

"I could make this a memorable flight for us, Sookie. I mean, Pussy…" With a smirk, he loosened his designer tie.

"You can turn off the charm, Mr. Northman. I'm immune," she said more forcefully, her soft blue eyes now blazing.

"Immune are you?" he asked in disbelief. "How so?"

"I prefer women," she taunted.

He waggled his eyebrows, more aroused than ever. He was not accustomed to rejection, even from lesbians. 'She will be mine,' he thought.

"What would it take for you to see things my way?"

"A lot more than you've got," she sneered.

"How do you know what I've got?" he asked smoothly as he pressed himself against her, letting her know exactly the plenty he was packing.

"I don't want to know," she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to turn her head away as he cupped her face in his hands. He moved in to kiss her. Hard. And her body betrayed her as she responded to his persuasive lips and talented hands.

"Oh, Eric," she moaned, susceptible to his charms after all. Damn he was good!

DING!

The mirrored doors opened and the crowd dispersed in several directions, back to the daily grind of wheeling and dealing. Sookie headed for her desk, binders in tow, assuming that Eric was accompanying her. She looked back to find him still standing in the elevator.

"Mr. Northman? Are you okay?" she asked, a little worried.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, sorry… I guess I have a lot on my mind today," he explained as he joined her in the hallway. She simply nodded her understanding, and they brought the presentation materials to her desk located just outside Pam's plush offices.

"Well, I guess it's time…" she sighed, looking somewhat pale at the thought of what faced her in the boardroom.

"Let me help you bring these into the meeting, and I'll make everything all better," he promised. She gave him a small smile, although she didn't seem totally convinced of his assurances. As they walked together down the hallway, he tried to lighten the mood to ease Sookie's worries. If Pam smelled fear on her new assistant, his wife would chew her up and spit her right back out.

"Your accent," he began. "I'm from the South myself. Shreveport, Louisiana to be precise. What about you?"

"Oh, my stars!" she squealed, her nerves forgotten. "I'm from Bon Temps, do you know it?"

"Not really, just in passing. I spent some years in New Orleans before business brought me to New York," he explained simply. No need to elaborate about how desperate he had been to escape his 'backwoods' past. Using an MBA degree as his ticket to the good life, he never looked back.

"And you… you have always dreamed of working for Ravenscroft Industries, I suppose?" he joked.

"Well, my boyfriend received a job offer he couldn't refuse… so, I decided to join him and seek my fortune here in the Big Apple!" she gushed.

He growled softly. Damn. He wanted to ask just how attached she was to her boyfriend, but common sense prevailed. The fact that it even mattered to him that she had a boyfriend was a disturbing notion; he was married after all, and if Pam (or her father) even slightly suspected any infidelity on his part…. well, let's just say the outcome would not be pretty.

"Then your boyfriend's good fortune is mine as well," he said. "I mean, our company is lucky to have you," he added, silently cursing himself for his clumsy speech.

A moment of awkward silence ensued, and she blushed a little at his words. They finally reached the closed boardroom door, and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Relax, I have you," Eric said with a wink before opening the wide double doors.

They entered the oak-paneled boardroom to find Simon Ravenscroft addressing the company's executives in his usual no-nonsense manner.

"So I'm sure you'll agree this is a matter of great importance we must deal with at once," he explained in a clipped British accent. He looked up to see the tardy arrival of his Marketing Director and an unfamiliar woman whom he assumed was some sort of secretary.

"Ah, Mr. Northman, how bloody nice of you to join us today," the balding CEO said with his usual sarcasm while Pam managed to glare at her husband from across the room.

"And I see our presentation binders are finally here as well," Pam added coolly, eyeing her new assistant with disdain. Sookie swallowed the lump in her throat and began distributing the materials around the conference table to all those present.

"Sorry, but an unforeseen problem arose at the copy center. I'm afraid it's my fault that these binders, and Ms. Stackhouse, were unexpectedly detained," Eric apologized. "I'm sure we can go over the trivial explanations later, but I see no reason to further delay the meeting, sir," he said, nodding with respect to his father-in-law.

Eric slid into the empty seat beside his wife and busied himself with the agenda and materials before him. Pam kicked his shin for good measure, and he did his best to stifle a grunt of pain. Sookie stood near the doorway, unsure what her responsibilities were at the moment. She looked to Eric for support, and he smiled in encouragement.

"Um, is there anything else I can be of assistance with, Ms. Northman?" she asked politely.

Pam sighed. "No, that will be all. Please hold all of my calls," she said with great authority and a flourish of her hand. With relief, Sookie nodded then vanished as quickly as possible. As he often did at these meetings, Eric began to doodle, trying to ignore Pam's pointed looks aimed directly at him.

The CEO returned to the matter at hand. "If you look at the new materials before you, you will find recent acquisition activity for de Castro's corporation. Our main focus should be on finding out more about the de Castro threat and his aggressive business maneuvers," Ravenscroft continued. "He has managed to acquire several of our competitors already, and it seems our recent financial troubles make our company ripe for a takeover."

Hushed whispers filled the boardroom as the magnitude of potential disaster began to register. Would jobs be lost? Would stock prices plummet? Would skiing trips have to be postponed? Almost everyone in attendance began considering the long-term effects. But Eric Northman was already losing focus and only half-listening. The meeting seemed to drag on and on as his powerful father-in-law commanded the attention of all those in attendance.

"Comptonucci," the patriarch finally said, addressing a sallow-faced gentleman sitting across from him. "I want you to research de Castro and the threat he poses to The Family. See what leverage we have, so I can make him an offer he can't refuse."

"But, Godfather," Comptonucci whined, "I can't research anything because my computer system is down. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!"

Suddenly, Don Ravensoni rose from his chair and gave his employee a savage shake.

"You can act like a man!" he ordered before delivering Comptonucci a quick slap.

"Forgive me, Godfather, forgive me!" he begged, bowing in deference to the Don. As a sign of his loyalty, he placed a hand over his heart. "I would gladly give my life for you," he promised, but the Godfather merely brushed the token gesture aside.

"Victorio, which contacts can we depend on in Vegas? Sonny tells me that de Castro runs his operations from there."

"Well, there's Sam Merlotti, and I know Johnny Quinn has a history in Vegas as a fighter. I've heard he can be bought, if the price is right," Victorio said.

"Sammy's a dog, and Johnny Quinn's nothing but a traitor and a momma's boy," Pam Ravensoni interrupted. "If he's not careful, he's going to end up sleeping with the tiger-fishes." She smiled at the thought.

"Pamela," her father cooed, "what you say is true, my little cannolli. How you understand people so well! It is decided then. I will send you and Victorio to Vegas to meet with some business associates of The Family; I know you will use your charms to 'convince' them to back us financially," the Godfather said proudly. "I'm a reasonable man, but this de Castro will regret the day he ever messed with the Ravensoni Family," he added before turning to his son-in-law.

"And Erico, remember that The Family is counting on you. I am counting on you."

"You are?" asked the blond-haired pretty boy sitting next to Pamela. He looked more Scandinavian than Sicilian.

"Yes, counting on you to be a respectable man while your wife is away." The Don's steely eyes cut through Erico. "To be faithful to the honor of the Ravensoni Family… capice?"

"Of course, Godfather," the young man replied after swallowing the lump in his throat. "The Family always comes first to me," he assured the Don, his heart racing a little.

"Good," the older man chuckled before coming to stand next to the newest member of The Family. "Because I would hate to make my beautiful daughter a widow," he smiled as he patted his son-in-law on the back. "Am I clear?" Erico felt a sharp kick to his shin.

Pam gave her husband another kick to the shin to catch his attention.

"Am I clear, Northman? I need you and your Marketing team to put a positive spin on this whole de Castro thing; I am holding you responsible for ensuring nothing will diminish our image and reputation. You know our motto… Company first," Simon Ravenscroft was saying as Eric looked up from his papers.

"Um, yes, of course sir, the Company always comes first," he smoothly recovered. "Our marketing campaign will be better than ever," he assured the CEO, his heart racing a little. Better than sleeping with the tiger-fishes.

oooOOooo

The Northmans were in their lavish master bedroom; Pam was packing for her Vegas trip while Eric lay sprawled on the bed with his Blackberry, catching up on recent e-mails.

"Daddy thinks we should be able to settle the de Castro business within the week. Though I wish Victor wasn't coming along; he can be such a bore at times," she declared as she searched through her jewelry.

"Yes, dear," Eric replied, absorbed in correspondence.

"Maybe I'll have time to go to the new spa at the Bellagio. Bitsy Darlington told me it was simply divine." Pam headed towards her massive walk-in closet.

"Yes, dear."

"I'm still undecided about whether to dine at Picasso again or try Joël Robuchon this time, so I had my assistant make reservations at both," she called out from the closet.

"Yes, dear," he responded but then looked up. "Um, what did you say, Pam? Something about your assistant?" he asked as casually as possible.

Pam emerged from the closet (which could house a large family), her arms laden with pricey designer outfits (which could feed a large family). She laid the clothing on the bed and picked through her selections.

"Yes, Eric, my assistant. You know, the one whose ass you so kindly covered today," she snickered as she looked for a particular item in the pile. "You needn't bother trying to 'help' her, my darling; that hillbilly is just as useless as the others. I give it a week before I fire her, or before she quits in a torrent of tears," Pam said matter-of-factly.

She held up a chic, black cocktail dress. "I think this one will do just fine for my dinner meeting with Daddy's associates. Do you like it?" she asked.

He looked at his wife for a moment, struggling against what he truly wanted to say. But then he sighed and went back to reading his e-mails.

"Yes, dear."

oooOOooo

If Eric Northman could read his wife (and he most definitely could), Ms. Stackhouse would be unemployed by week's end for "incompetence." Of course, he couldn't personally vouch for her competence, but she did seem conscientious, if nothing else. And she was sharp, too; after all, she had made it her business to know who he was before their first meeting.

Eric was determined to find a way to help Ms. Stackhouse keep her job. He didn't dwell on the reasons why he wanted to do it, other than to rationalize that he was helping a fellow Louisianan—a hard-working young woman who was not a hillbilly. Eric cringed at the derogatory label his wife had used, one which he himself had worked so hard to escape. He had spent years learning to soften his accent, refine his manners and dress the part of the corporate executive; the results had been impressive.

As to the matter at hand, the timing couldn't have worked out any better. Pam was away in Vegas for the week, freeing Ms. Stackhouse from her normal responsibilities. Eric's assistant, Amelia, had e-mailed him last night to say she had a stomach virus and didn't know when she might return to work. And Simon Ravenscroft had assigned a big marketing project to combat the de Castro threat. It would seem that Eric Northman was in need of assistance, and he knew just where he was going to find it.

The plan was simple. If Ms. Stackhouse became a valuable asset to the marketing project (catching the attention of Simon Ravenscroft in the process), her position at Ravenscroft Industries would be secure. Add in a glowing recommendation from the Marketing Director himself, and Pam's opinion would hardly matter. Or so he hoped. The tricky part would be getting Ms. Stackhouse to agree; he didn't want her to feel manipulated in his attempts to help her.

Knock, knock, knock.

Eric was sitting in his office, awaiting the arrival of Ms. Stackhouse. He had avoided telling her of the job offer on the phone earlier; he preferred to handle the issue more delicately, in person. As she stood in the doorway, her long lean frame filled the space. She seemed to have grown six inches in height overnight. She wore a chocolate brown polka-dotted halter dress with matching hat, an outfit better suited for attending a polo match than an office meeting. No matter, she was stunning.

"Eric." She smiled as she walked over to his desk. "You wanted to see me?" Climbing onto his desk, she used her long legs to straddle him as he sat in his office chair.

"Sookie, I hadn't exactly planned this," he said, taken aback.

"Do you plan everything?"

"Always."

"Well, Eric, I'm not a planner. I would say I'm a 'fly by the seat of your pants' kind of gal; you know, moment to moment." And she flashed a great big Hollywood-smile that could melt a man's heart.

"Sookie, I have a business proposition for you," Eric began, hoping to steer the conversation in a more professional direction. "Something that would allow us to see each other on a more consistent basis." But Sookie had other things in mind as she wrapped her long legs even tighter around the Marketing Director.

"Did I mention, Eric… my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe, so basically, we're talkin' about… 88 inches of pure woman wrapped around you. Can your business propostition top that?" she purred.

"No, Sookie, listen to me," he said, struggling to get out of her lower limb death-grip. "I have arranged for you to work for me in the marketing department. You'll have an unlimited expense account, an office with a view of Central Park, people to suck up to you whenever you want…"

Sookie untangled herself and stood up from the desk, offended and sad at the same time.

"You know, Eric, when I was a little girl I would pretend I was a princess, trapped in the tower by a wicked queen. And then suddenly, this knight, on a white horse, with these colors flying, would come charging up and draw his sword… and I would wave, and he would climb up the tower, and rescue me," she sniffled. "But never in all the time… that I had this dream… did the knight say to me, 'Come on, baby, I'll let you work for me in the marketing department'."

Eric sighed. "It's the best I can do, Sookie. I don't know what you want."

She took his hands in hers and looked into his deep blue eyes. "It's a really good offer for a girl like me. But I want the fairy tale, Eric. I want the fairy tale."

Knock, knock, knock.

"Mr. Northman?" A sweet Southern voice startled the Marketing Director.

"Ah, good morning, Ms. Stackhouse. Thanks for helping us out this week," Eric greeted her. Although she was a little apprehensive about the new arrangement, Sookie had agreed to assist the marketing department after Mr. Northman's persuasive phone call this morning.

"Morning, sir. Where do you want me?" she asked with an innocent smile. Eric thought of several pleasant responses, some of which involved long legs straddling him, but none of which would be appropriate to share with her. He was trying his best to remain professional, but it certainly wasn't easy. Sookie looked especially attractive this morning in a shapely red dress that was classic Marilyn Monroe. After taking a deep breath, he walked her outside of his office.

"Why don't you have a seat here, at Amelia's desk," he suggested. "We're having a department meeting in just a few minutes to discuss the new marketing campaign, and I want you to be part of it. Just answer my calls for now, if you don't mind."

"Oh, okay," she said with a slight frown as he moved to return to his office. "Um, Mr. Northman?" she called after him. "Are you sure that this is okay with Ms. Northman? I mean, I don't really know anything about marketing…"

His wide grin was comforting. "Please, call me Eric, and don't worry about not knowing the marketing field. So much is just common sense about what people like and don't like. And Ms. Northman would be pleased to know you stepped in to help us out," he assured her. "After all, you are a Ravenscroft employee, and we're a family here. Remember our motto…"

"Company first!" she chimed in, thinking that if this was the best slogan the marketing team could produce, she was more than qualified to work in the department.

The marketing group met in the conference room shortly afterwards, and they were a friendly and likeable bunch. Eric encouraged Sookie to participate and share her opinions as well, something she was a bit reluctant to do. But as suggestions both reasonable and absurd were thrown around for the new campaign, she warmed up to the idea of contributing. Could her ideas be any worse than what she had just heard?

"So, any final thoughts before we break for lunch?" Eric asked, hoping some down time would restore his team's creative juices. So far, nothing had truly excited the group. They needed a new angle, a fresh approach to make their advertising stand apart.

"Um, I have an idea," Sookie volunteered after working up the courage. She took a deep breath.

"Vampires."

Eric arched an eyebrow in question while the group politely listened.

"Well, vampires seem real popular right now," she explained. "You know, in books and movies. So I was thinking maybe some advertising with blood and fangs, and a saying like, 'Sink your teeth into us' or 'We take a bite out of the competition.' Unless you think that's lame," she muttered, losing her self-confidence.

"I think that's quite… creative, Ms. Stackhouse," Eric commented with enthusiasm. Sookie beamed with delight.

He was extremely pleased to have a working concept for the campaign and elated that his plan for her job security seemed to be unfolding nicely. Although her suggestions were a little rough around the edges, his team of professionals would be able to create something big and bold with them. The excited group jumped on the idea and ran with it, working throughout the day to set things in motion. A late afternoon progress meeting led to take-out Chinese food being shared around the conference table. Sookie enjoyed the interesting work and instant acceptance into the group, losing track of the time along with everyone else.

As the workers slowly collected their materials and headed home for the evening, Sookie helped gather the take-out containers and garbage littering the conference room.

"Ms. Stackhouse, you can leave that for the custodial staff. They're used to our leftovers by now," he said lightly.

"That's okay, Mr. Northman. My Gran always taught me to be a courteous hostess and an even more courteous guest," she said as she continued to clean up the mess.

"It's Eric," he reminded her. "And may I call you Sookie?" he asked softly.

"Of…of… course," she stammered, her heart racing a little at his preference for the more familiar.

"So, Sookie, tell me about your Gran," he said conversationally as he helped her with the cleaning.

"Well, she raised me and my brother from early on. Gran was real patient and good with advice, but most of all she was dedicated to her family," she said wistfully. "I really miss her."

"Oh, I'm sorry. She sounds like she was a remarkable woman. Did she pass on recently?" he asked with concern.

"Oh no, she's not dead. I just really miss her, you know, with me being here in New York and all, and her being back in Bon Temps," she said matter-of-factly. Eric chuckled as the spunky young woman continued to chatter.

"I wish I had more family, you know? I just love children. I babysat all the time growing up and even worked for a year as a nanny," she babbled, carried away by the topic. "Someday I hope to have a real big family. It would be wonderful."

"Sounds like it," he agreed.

"What about you, Mr. North…, I mean, Eric… do you and Ms. Northman have any children yet?" Although she was just being curious, it was a topic he would have preferred to avoid.

"No, we don't," he answered stiffly.

"Well, there's still plenty of time," she said, unaware that children were not destined to be part of the 'time-line' for the Northmans. Pam never seemed to develop a maternal instinct; she detested the idea of pregnancy affecting her trim figure and simply did not have the patience or interest. And having attended strict British boarding schools, she hadn't exactly experienced a tender and loving model of family life.

"Perhaps. Someday," he said quietly. "I've always wanted a large family myself, but I'm not sure that will ever happen," he admitted, surprising himself with his sudden candor.

She was touched by his honesty and rested her hand on top of his in a comforting gesture. The same current he experienced yesterday seemed to pass through him again. He couldn't have imagined feeling it because Sookie also reacted to the sensation, jerking her hand back.

An awkward moment passed. "It's late. Why don't you let me give you a lift home?" Eric offered.

"Oh, I couldn't impose."

"It's the least I can do for the creative genius behind our new marketing campaign," he said with a grin. "It's not safe for a young woman to ride the bus or train alone now, anyway," he convinced her. "Where do you live?"

"The Bronx. We have a small apartment there," she said. The we in that sentence bothered Eric more than he would admit.

"Perfect. That's right on the way home for me. I'll call my driver and tell him we'll be ready shortly," he said as he headed for the phone.

oooOOooo

Andre was waiting for them in the Lincoln Town Car when Sookie and Eric reached the office garage. Although the Northmans owned an impressive array of cars, they still preferred to have a company driver for the occasions when they simply did not feel like driving. Manhattan traffic was stressful to navigate and if it could be avoided, why not? The Bronx was, in fact, on the way home to ritzy Westchester County, but Eric would have arranged for her transportation back home, regardless of the location.

"Vampires, huh?" Eric finally asked as he sipped on his Perrier. She blushed, although she knew it was inevitable he would ask her about her creative inspiration.

"Well, I really enjoy reading vampire stories. They're romantic and a little scary and … um…" she trailed.

"Sexy?" he supplied with a smirk. He continued to sip as he watched her face slightly flush.

"Yes, that too," she giggled. "But… Eric… now that I've shared my secret passion for vampires, it's your turn to share," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Hmm… I already told you I want a dozen kids… there's not much more to me, I'm afraid."

"What were you like in high school?"

"Well, I played guitar in a band for a while," he laughed. "And I have a tattoo," he whispered. She opened her mouth in shock.

"Really?" she gushed, squeezing his arm in a manner totally inappropriate for office assistant and employer. But neither seemed to mind the contact.

"Yes, really. But I draw the line at telling you what and where. A man has to keep some secrets, after all," he replied. She giggled again.

"A band, huh? Were you any good?"

"Our name was 'The Mighty Vikings,' but we were anything but mighty. We had about three people who came to see us at our one and only gig," he joked. He hadn't touched his guitar in years, but playing it had provided many welcome diversions back then. He missed it still.

The car slowed at the address Sookie had given Andre. It was fully dark by now but, given the neighborhood, he could only imagine how seedy the building must look in daylight. Feeling somewhat possessive and concerned for her safety, he insisted on walking her to the apartment entrance. She didn't object.

"Well, thanks for the ride, Eric," she said, a little more comfortable using his first name. She inserted her key in the locked lobby door. "Guess I'll see you bright and early!"

"Yes, goodnight," he said, and they both looked to each other expectantly. Her lips appeared soft and inviting, and her unique vanilla scent aroused him again. But he resisted temptation, determined to keep things professional for both of their sakes. They said goodbye, Eric lingering for a moment as she headed for the elevator doors and disappeared.

As the Town Car sped towards Westchester County, the housing improved dramatically. Country clubs and sprawling estates became the norm. Eric's cell phone buzzed, letting him know it was Pam; he would have to deal with her later. By the time Andre pulled into the circular drive in front of the perfectly manicured Casa de Northman, Eric was ready for a drink. The big house was empty tonight, the housekeeper gone for the day and Pam somewhere in Vegas indulging herself. His footsteps echoed on the imported Italian tile as he made his way down to the basement, one goal in mind. He passed the wine cellar, deciding to forgo a glass tonight for something more comforting. He passed the home theater, the sauna, and the billiards den, finally stopping at a storage room at the far end of the basement.

Searching through the boxes, he eventually found what he was looking for in the very back corner. He blew the dust off the weathered guitar case and opened it to find an old friend. It was badly out of tune but he strummed away gently, letting the music wash over him and soothe his troubled heart and soul.

Hmm-hmm-hmm, Hmm-hmm-hmm…

Every morning you greet me,
Small and white, clean and bright
You look happy to meet me…

"Oh, Father! Father, hurry! It's Fraulein Sookie! She has returned from the convent!" the youngest (and cutest) daughter, Gretl, cried in joy before rushing back out to the verandah.

Captain Von Northtrapp clutched his guitar to his chest, his heart racing at the news of Sookie's return. She had left the family so abruptly, taking his fragile heart with her in the process. He feared he would never see the spunky young governess again, yet here she was, back from the abbey. God, he hoped she wasn't still planning to remain celibate—not only would she make a terrible nun, but it would throw a serious wrench in his desire to marry her. He rose to straighten his military uniform, bracing himself for their reunion.

Meanwhile out on the verandah, the seven precocious Von Northtrapp children, attired in drapery-inspired play clothes, were bombarding their governess with questions and gossip.

"But why did you leave us, Fraulein Sookie?" asked the oldest boy, Friedrich.

"Well, I thought I could run away from my problems, but Mother Abbess taught me I have to face them and live the life I was born to live," she explained.

"You could have sent a telegram, you know. We were so worried about you," said the 16-almost-17-year-old Liesl.

"It was wrong of me, I know. But I'm back, and how I missed all of you! You must tell me, how is your father? And the Baroness Ravenschlag?" she inquired with a heavy heart.

"Oh, the Baroness no longer has her claws in Father," said Brigitta helpfully. "All she cared about was money and her trim figure. She wanted to send us away to boarding school in Switzerland, but Father thought being with family was more important."

"I agree," said the governess, her heart rejoicing at the happy news. She was so elated that she thought she might start singing at any moment or running for the hills.

"Do you agree, Fraulein Sookie?" a tenor voice echoed from the doorway. Their Austrian-blue eyes met and an unspoken bond seemed to connect them.

"Yes, Captain," she nodded politely as the children continued to surround her with their doe-eyed innocence and sunny excitement.

"Perhaps Fraulein Sookie and I might speak in private, children?" the handsome Captain suggested. The governess blushed at the thought of being alone with him, remembering the last time they had danced together and how she could hardly breathe after the experience.

The Von Northtrapp children scattered, returning to a puppet show they abandoned earlier in the parlor, while the two would-be lovers came to an understanding.

"Have you returned to us for good then, Fraulein?"

"Well, I really missed the children…"

"Is that all? Did you, perhaps, miss me as well?" he asked hopefully. She didn't reply, unable to express the emotions she was feeling, the uncertainty of the path that God had chosen for her.

"Sookie, when you left us, everything was all wrong. And now that you have returned… well, let's just say it would be all wrong if you left again," he admitted.

"But the Baroness…. aren't you still planning to marry her?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I can't marry one person when I'm in love with someone else," he said huskily and moved in to kiss her. It was a sweet and tender moment for them while they lingered on the verandah. As he inhaled her unique scent, he was reminded of vanilla and schnitzel, two of his favorite things.

"Will you marry me, Sookie?" He could think of nothing that would make him happier, except maybe to father another few children.

"Before I agree… Capt… I mean, Eric…" she said, testing out the new name. "We must first get permission."

"From the Mother Abbess?"

"No, from the children, of course!" she answered and grabbed his hand to lead him back into the house.

"Children, children, we have an announcement," the Captain said and picked up his guitar. "Fraulein Sookie is going to be your new mother, if you approve, of course."

As the Captain strummed the strings, his fiancée and dear children hovering close to him, he realized that Sookie had brought music back into the house, music he had long forgotten.

Blossom of snow

May you bloom and grow,
Bloom and grow forever,

Edelweiss, Edelweiss…

And somewhere in a posh New York suburb, in a large empty house with too many bedrooms and no children to fill them, a lonely man strummed a long-forgotten guitar, humming a bittersweet love song.

oooOOooo

The next week progressed in much the same manner. The marketing team worked well into the evening, preparing for the campaign's presentation at a special meeting with the CEO scheduled next Monday. Since it was often dark by the time things wrapped up, Andre usually drove Sookie home, or Eric would do so on the occasions when he drove himself to work.

After the other employees left for home each night, Sookie and Eric would spend time talking about all sorts of things. He found himself opening up to her, telling her aspects of his past that he had never shared with anyone. Especially Pam. Sookie and her down-to-earth charm reminded him of home, a place he hadn't wanted to remember until now. She had a wicked sense of humor, once she let her guard down, and Eric often found himself thinking about Sookie in the most unprofessional of ways. He felt more content and less restless than he had in a long time, knowing in his heart that it had to do with the new assistant. And he was certain that Sookie delighted in their time together as well; she always seemed happy during their work hours, and her eyes would light up whenever he was near.

It was Friday night, and the marketing group was putting the final touches on the presentation before the weekend. The team had done wonders with Sookie's initial "vampire" idea, and the final results were impressive. Eric hoped that his father-in-law would think so as well. To celebrate their achievement, Eric had taken the liberty of chilling a few bottles of champagne in his office's wet bar. After things were settled for the presentation, he filled glasses for his staff and toasted to their continued success. Excitement and camaraderie filled the air, and Sookie truly felt like she was part of the marketing 'family.' Only now and then would the nagging realization hit her that she was merely on loan and would be returning shortly to work for Ms. Northman again.

Pam had been quite annoyed when Eric first informed her of the temporary work arrangement; she resented her husband meddling with her assistant and bluntly told him so by cell phone. But when he reminded her of the "Company first!" motto and her father's strong desire to defeat de Castro, she reluctantly backed down. Pam and Eric had only spoken a few times during the week, but her last voice mail boasted of success in obtaining financial backing from "Daddy's" associates. After a week of pampering, wining, and dining, Pam would be taking a red-eye flight from Vegas later that evening.

The group quickly worked their way through the champagne, and the mood was festive as the marketing staff headed home to finally start their weekend. As she had become accustomed to doing, Sookie lingered behind to chat with Eric. But now that they were finally alone, Eric noticed that she looked a bit tired or troubled, perhaps.

"You okay, Sookie?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine," she answered quietly before finishing the champagne in her glass. "So… I guess after Monday's presentation, I'm no longer part of the Marketing department, huh?" she asked with a little disappointment in her voice.

He sighed, unsure how to respond. "We couldn't have completed this campaign without you, Sookie. And I'm going to make sure, come Monday, that Mr. Ravenscroft knows that." He didn't want to get her hopes up, but he did think he could sway things enough to keep her involved in marketing somehow.

"Thanks, Eric. It's been a great project, you know? A lotta work but great," she said, her words a little slurred from the champagne.

"Do you need to be getting back home soon, Sookie? I feel bad I've taken up all of your evenings this week."

She smiled. "Nope, I would have been alone most of the time, anyway. Preston was given a big account recently, so he's also been tied up with work. He'll finally have some time off next week."

Preston? Ugh. What kind of fairy-ass name was that? Eric preferred more masculine names, traditional and historic ones more like his own.

"Are you happy with him, Sookie?" Eric asked bluntly, immediately regretting how the champagne had loosened his tongue. It was none of his business, and he wasn't sure he was prepared for the answer, anyway.

She thought for a moment before responding. "Happy enough," she finally said. "Um, do you have any more of this delicious champagne?" she asked, anxious to change the subject. "I'm such a lightweight normally, but this stuff hasn't bothered me at all," she giggled.

Eric raised a doubtful eyebrow. She seemed to have a slight buzz already, but if she wanted more, he wasn't going to deny her. He reached for an open bottle only to find it had been drained.

"Ah, sorry, we're all out. But we could go somewhere and get a drink, if you'd like," he suggested, his heart racing at the thought. How far was he willing to cross the line with her? And was she agreeable?

Sookie thought about his proposal for a moment, struggling with the decision. She looked at him with a small smile. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll have to pass," she said with a sigh. "I actually need to go back upstairs to my desk and get some things in order before Ms. Northman comes back."

"Well, how about I escort you there? I happen to know my wife keeps some wine in her office bar. It's not champagne, but I assure you it is very good wine. From our own wine cellar, of course," he grinned.

"Of course it is," she replied, rolling her eyes. She knew nothing about wine, but from what she had learned recently of the Northmans, she had no doubt it would be the best.

Sookie was drained from the long work week, less inhibited because of the champagne, and damn tired of struggling with her changing emotions. In a fateful decision, she uttered two words which made Eric very happy: "Why not?"

oooOOooo

Sookie sorted through a pile of papers on her desk while Eric uncorked a bottle of vintage French wine from the bar in Pam's office. As if it wasn't improper enough to spend a Friday night alone in his wife's office, drinking wine with her beautiful young assistant, he became unnerved when he saw their Swarovski crystal-framed wedding picture sitting on the bar. He felt like Pam was intently watching him from the picture, surmising his true intentions this evening. It was more than he could take; he placed the frame face down on the bar before he filled two glasses and returned to join Sookie at her desk.

"I'm sure going to miss our chats," she smiled as she took a sip of the wine and absentmindedly stroked the bottle.

"Me too," he agreed. And he meant it.

He leaned his tall frame against her desk while she sat in her rolling chair. Nothing more was said as they continued to sip and unwind, enjoying the easiness of each other's company. At one point, she closed her eyes and arched her back, trying to stretch a kink out of her shoulder. Her generous breasts thrust forward in the tight blouse she was wearing— it was impossible not to look.

"Ow, I think I've been sitting too long today," she complained then opened her eyes to gauge Eric's reaction.

"May I?" he asked softly as he came to stand behind her chair. "I'm good with my hands," he joked, trying to keep the mood light in case he was misreading her signals.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, please."

He began massaging her neck and shoulders slowly and tenderly, savoring her proximity and intoxicating scent. He continued to caress down her back, working his long fingers into her muscles, back and forth, up and down. He would have loved to touch her alluring skin rather than her silk blouse, but he wasn't sure how she would react. He was afraid to ruin this perfect moment.

"Mmm," she moaned. "You're putting me to sleep."

While Sookie may have been relaxed and content, Eric's body was anything but sleepy. In fact, a particular part of his lower anatomy was very alert tonight. He kept working his fingers over the back of her blouse, finally leaning in to her neck when temptation overtook him.

"May I?" he whispered in her ear, and she softly said, "Yes." He gently moved aside her hair and tenderly kissed her neck, feeling the goose bumps rise on her skin. He spun her chair around, surprising her, and pulled her to a standing position before him.

It was like a moment from the movies. "Sookie," was all he said before he pulled her closer and urgently pressed his lips to hers, hoping for a kiss to rival that of Bogart and Bergman. He was not disappointed. She eagerly gave herself to his lips and his tongue, and they soon found a rhythm as they let the real world around them slowly melt away.

A jingling of keys and a cart rolling in the hallway startled them, and they quickly broke apart. The night janitor was already though the doorway when he realized what he had interrupted.

"Perdón," he apologized, flustered at the discovery. "I come back later, sí?" He mumbled something else in Spanish and quickly turned from the office.

Sookie tried to compose herself, but from the bright blush in her cheeks it was obvious she was embarrassed. She quickly gathered her things and headed for the office door. "I've… I've gotta go. I'm so sorry, Eric," she babbled. But Eric was faster than her and caught her arm.

"Wait, Sookie, please," he begged. "Look at me."

She reluctantly turned to face him; her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh my god, Eric, you're married, and I work for you, and your wife, and I don't know what I was thinking, and please forget this ever happened, okay?" she begged.

"Shh, don't worry, Sookie. Please don't feel bad. We both had a little too much to drink and just got carried away by the moment, that's all." He didn't want her to feel guilty over this small indiscretion and then do something drastic, like quit her job. He might never see her again.

She wiped her tears and gave him a small, sad smile, as though she didn't seem totally convinced of his assurances.

"Let me call Andre," Eric suggested.

"No!" she said a little more firmly than she intended. "I'll take the bus tonight," and then she was gone.

oooOOooo

The weekend couldn't end soon enough for Eric. Pam had returned, and he found it hard to stomach her endless chatter about how fabulous her Vegas trip had been. Not that she noticed, but he tried to block her out more than usual. When talk turned to the topic of work and the upcoming marketing presentation, Eric found himself defensive about any mention of Sookie.

"Vampires, Eric? You can't be serious! You expect Daddy to approve a campaign that associates blood and sex with a refined company like Ravenscroft Industries? Hah," she snickered. "Too bad I'll have to miss the meeting," she said as she unpacked her Louis Vuitton suitcase.

Yes, too bad, he muttered under his breath. "It's really a clever concept, and Sookie was the creative force behind the whole idea," he informed her.

"Was she, now…" Pam said with a snicker, pausing from her task long enough to look at her husband questioningly. "Just how creative did the two of you get?"

Eric blushed, despite his attempts to appear aloof. "Save your accusations, Pam. They don't look good with Louis Vuitton," he scoffed before heading down to the basement to find some solace again.

oooOOooo

The marketing meeting was scheduled for noon, but Eric wanted to talk to Sookie beforehand, just to make sure things were okay between them. She had seemed shaken up when she left the office Friday night, and he was afraid that it might be awkward when they saw each other again. He was ready to let things go, if that was what she wanted. But he hoped that she would change her mind. He called her office extension several times, but there was no answer.

Simon Ravenscroft liked to start his meetings promptly, so in the marketing conference room at precisely 12:00, the department unveiled its new campaign. Sookie was a no-show for the meeting, which troubled Eric greatly. Pam was attending a scheduled business luncheon at the moment—perhaps she had brought her assistant with her?

"Very interesting, Northman! Your group did a bloody good job this time," Ravenscroft said admiringly.

Since the CEO was not one to hand out compliments freely, Eric was especially proud of the department's work. Yet the moment would have been sweeter had Sookie been there to share it with him.

"Thank you, sir," Eric said, "I'd like to make special note of the hard work the entire team put into this project, especially Ms. Stackhouse for her creative ideas."

"Splendid! de Castro won't know what bit him!" Ravenscroft laughed, trying out a bit of vampire humor. "And who is Ms. Stackhouse?" he asked as he looked around the table at the department's employees.

"Ah, she couldn't be here today," Eric explained before the CEO wrinkled his nose at the news. "I believe she is presently working on a project with Pam," Eric added. That seemed to satisfy his father-in-law.

After plans were set in motion to launch the campaign, the meeting adjourned and Eric bolted for Sookie's desk. Pam was still out of the office, and her assistant's desk was completely clear. No papers, no office supplies—merely a phone on an empty desk. He was positive Sookie had quit. Quit because of him.

His mind raced at the thought of what to do. He needed to see her, to explain his feelings to her, to apologize if necessary. Whatever it took to make her come back. It was a rash and dramatic response, but he left the building immediately and headed directly to her apartment. He was glad he had decided to drive today; this was not something he wanted Andre to witness.

At this time of day, Eric could make it to the Bronx in just under fifteen minutes. He found the run-down apartment building that Sookie called home and parked out front. When he reached the lobby, he realized the door was locked—he needed to press the intercom to be buzzed in. Shit. What if her name wasn't listed on the directory? All he knew about her boyfriend's identity was the first name Preston. He stifled a groan.

He glanced through the names until he finally found a Pardloe/Stackhouse listing and rang the buzzer. He hadn't rehearsed what he was going to say but knew he would simply speak from the heart, if she would only let him in.

BUZZ.

No response.

BUZZ.

"Yes?" a sweet Southern voice asked.

"Sookie, it's me, Eric."

There was silence on the other end as she decided what to do.

"Eric, I don't want to see you anymore. I quit this morning; I can't… it's just easier this way," she sniffled. God, he hated it when she cried.

"Sookie, please… are you still there?"

No response.

"Hello?" He pressed the buzzer again. "Hello, Sookie? Wait, okay? I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that, Sookie? You missed the meeting, but our little marketing project had a very big day. A very, very big day. But it wasn't complete, wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn't share it with you. I couldn't hear your voice, or laugh about it with you. I missed my assistant," he admitted.

He took a deep breath, gathering the strength to go on, to see this through.

"We live in a cynical world… a cynical, cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors…."

He didn't know whether she was listening or not, but he had to tell her. He had to tell her the truth.

"Sookie, I love you. You complete me. And if I just had..."

"Shut up, Eric," a tender voice suddenly replied. "Just shut up.....You had me at hello. You had me at hello," she cried through the intercom.

"Yes?" a gruff voice asked through the intercom.

"Um…" Eric scrambled, "I'm trying to reach Sookie Stackhouse. Is she there?" Shit! What was he going to say to her with her boyfriend at home?

"Now's not the best time to talk to Sookie. Who is this?"

"This is Eric Northman. I'm in Marketing at Ravenscroft Industries. We were working on a project, and…"

"You work for Ravenscroft? Damn, what the hell kind of company is that, anyway?" Preston Pardloe was pissed off.

"If I could just come up, maybe, to see why she quit…" Anyone could hear the desperation in Eric's voice.

"Quit? Sookie didn't quit! That witch of a boss fired her this morning!" he shouted through the intercom, his words distorted by the poor-quality speaker.

"Fired?" Eric asked, stunned at the news.

"Yes, fired. So she's not ready to talk to anyone right now. Does she know how to reach you, Mister?"

"Yes, I suppose she does," Eric said quietly and headed back to his car.

oooOOooo

He stormed through his wife's office, interrupting her phone call.

"Why, Pam? Why?" he demanded, but she waved her hand away to indicate she was tied up at the moment. He tried to rein in his anger, but he was still on a low boil when she finally hung up the phone a few minutes later.

"This is about my ex-assistant, I suppose?" she asked sweetly as she stood up from her desk to greet her husband.

"Pam… how could you fire her?! Were you so jealous of her achievements in my department that you couldn't share her?" he seethed.

She was taken aback by his little tantrum. It was so unlike him, after all. "Share her?" she mocked. "You have no authority over her; she was my employee."

"And she worked for me as well, Pam. And I can, and will, fight your complaints of her "incompetence" with examples of her fine work for my department—work that your father found impressive!" he said triumphantly.

She laughed at her husband's bravado. He was so naive about the ways of the world sometimes. Surely it must come from all that time he spent daydreaming, she thought.

"Well, my dear, I didn't fire her for incompetence. I fired her for theft," she said smugly.

"Theft?" he asked, dumbfounded. "What could Sookie possibly have taken..." his voice trailed. He was simply stunned by the idea.

"Well… when I returned this morning I found a wine bottle from my office bar sitting on her desk. With two glasses next to it, no less," she said in a shocked voice. "Of course I confronted her immediately; I won't tolerate an employee going through my private belongings, obviously."

It would seem the janitor never did come back to clean later that night. Eric could feel his stomach twisting in tight knots. His face lost all color as his wife continued.

"And Ms. Stackhouse admitted to me that she and her fiancé," and at this she paused to look sharply at Eric, "had a little fun in the office one night, apparently. She insisted that she took the wine bottle from the bar, and she accepted full responsibility for her actions," Pam explained. "So what else could I do, Eric? I fired her, and she gathered her belongings and left."

Husband and wife carefully evaluated one another, each calculating what would be the next best move towards checkmate.

"She is a talented young woman, Pam. She deserves better than this…deserves better than you," he said bitterly, unsure of whether he was talking about Sookie, himself, or both.

"Are you fucking her, Eric?" Pam asked bluntly.

"No! Of course not," he insisted. She slithered over to him and stood inches from his face, her voice cool and compelling.

"Good," she hissed. "Because if you can't keep it in your pants, then all of this goes away, dear. Are you ready to give up the sweet life you love so much? Don't you dare forget that my family made you what you are! You know Daddy's connections in Manhattan, Eric. You will never work in this city again." And here she dropped her British accent to don a contemptuous Southern one.

"You can head back to Lou-is-i-fuckin-ana, for all I care."

She stormed off to the bar to pour herself a brandy. She was quite rattled, and that simply did not happen to Pamela Ravenscroft Northman. Eric himself was in a state of numb shock, his heart racing as he watched her adjust the crystal picture frame he'd left lying face-down on the bar. He struggled to breathe, feeling like he would suffocate under the leaden weight of the moment.

What was he willing to sacrifice for his happiness? How far would he go? He felt like he was at the edge of a great precipice, about to make a life-altering decision.

The dust swirled around the red Corvette convertible as they raced though the open landscape, trying to outrun their assailants. It had been a long chase, one in which the two fugitives had the upper hand for a while, but now the authorities were gaining on them.

"Shit," Eric muttered as he looked in the rear-view mirror. The police were closing in. Sookie turned back to assess the situation and realized it was hopeless.

Even though Eric was panicked, he noticed how Sookie's long blonde hair looked beautiful, whipped by the wind as they flew through the rocky terrain. He also noticed that the ground beneath them was rapidly coming to an end. Straight ahead was the cliff's edge and the only direction was down.

He hit the brakes well before the drop and let the car idle.

"Cut your engine off and place your hands in plain view," a piercing bullhorn demanded of them. Sookie grabbed Eric's hand and squeezed it.

"This is Sheriff Pamela Ravenscroft," the booming voice continued. "You have nowhere to run. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

The fugitives turned to each other for comfort.

"Okay then, let's not get caught," Sookie said with a soft smile.

"What… what are you talking about?" Eric asked before turning back once more to look at the police assembled a good distance behind them. They had guns pointed at the car.

"Let's keep going, Eric," she urged.

"What do you mean?" His full attention was now focused on her.

"I repeat… cut your engine off and place your hands in plain view," the Sheriff ordered.

"Go!" Sookie said, motioning to the steep drop ahead of them.

Eric's eyebrows arched, and he gave a short laugh of disbelief. "Are you sure, my lover?"

"Yes, yes," she cried as she wiped away a few stray tears. He nodded his agreement and faced the inevitable.

They reached for each other and kissed with a passionate and desperate urgency. As they looked into each other's eyes for the final time, they both smiled with a shared understanding. There was no fear, only a resigned acceptance of their fate.

The tires squealed as Eric revved the engine, kicking up a blanket of dirt and dust in the dry terrain. The Corvette accelerated quickly and headed straight for the rocky edge. They instinctively closed their eyes and joined hands, clutching tightly as the car soared into the air. It lifted up, as if on wings, arching high above the canyon below, propelling them into eternity. Together.

CRASH!

Eric was startled; he turned to see the Swarovski picture frame in scattered shards, the delicate crystal no match for the hard office wall. Pam straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath to calm herself. She rarely lost control like this, and she would be damned before she let Eric Northman get the best of her. She looked to the floor to admire her handiwork, and a composed and unruffled countenance returned to the Executive Vice-President.

Pamela Northman turned to face her husband, her eyes cold as marble. "So, Eric… I will be calling Andre shortly to bring the car 'round for the drive home. Will you be joining me?" she asked pointedly. She tapped her manicured fingers against the bar and raised an eyebrow.

Checkmate.

As he stared back at his wife, in her impeccable suit and designer shoes, he replayed his options, for his head was clear now.

And he knew what he needed to say to Pam—after all, his future depended on it.

"Yes, dear."

oooOOooo

Author's Note: The central storyline is a parody of James Thurber's 1939 short story (and later 1947 film), "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty." For those unfamiliar with it, the main character is a hen-pecked husband who escapes his dull, routine life by fantasizing about exciting and heroic adventures. Even today, people still use the term, "Walter Mitty type,'' to describe a kind of neurotic, daydreaming man.

Did you recognize all of Eric Northman's fantasies? They are taken from seven well-known films, in the following order: Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981); Goldfinger (1964); The Godfather (1972); Pretty Woman (1990); The Sound of Music (1965); Jerry Maguire (1996); and Thelma & Louise (1991).