A/N: This fic takes place in between Dead and Gone and Dead in the Family. "Whoah there," I hear you cry. "You already did a post-D&G fic ages ago you fool! We want a new AH/AU fic where Quinn and Bill team up and open a beauty salon but then Eric opens a rival salon across the street with state of the art tanning and laser hair removal treatments." Well, fine, I'll work on that soon. And yes, I did explore this period with my first fanfic, which I wrote after I finished reading Dead and Gone. Difference with this is that now I'm taking into account what actually happened in Dead in the Family, and just focusing on that bit in between books (and maybe early on in DITF) which got hinted at but we never got to read about. It's a tough time for Sookie, but she and Eric seem to grow closer while she's healing. She visits his house, and of course, at some point she decides she loves him. I like to imagine some good stuff happened. So here is my take on what might have taken place.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I own nothing, nothing, nooooo-thiiiiiiinnng!

Thanks to RubySun03 for all the support and for beta-ing for me.

Getting Back on the Bike

Chapter One

Sometimes, being Sookie Stackhouse really sucked.

I'd suffered a lot of personal tragedy, and had to grow up being ostracized, feared, and worse, pitied, due to my disability. I'd survived a heap of physical battering; I'd been beaten, choked, shot, had my back torn up by a maenad, I'd almost been burned alive in my own home, I'd even been staked. But those hours I'd spent at the hands, and teeth, of Lochlan and Neave, well, that'd been a whole other ball game. That was when I'd truly learned what it was to be scared for your life. I can't even begin to explain the level of fear I'd experienced during those long couple of hours.

The physical healing wasn't so bad. Thanks to a couple of visits to Dr. Ludwig, and a good dose of thousand year old vampire blood, the holes and gaping wounds in my skin healed up quicker than I ever thought possible. Sure, I knew I'd carry a few scars, but they'd just sit right along with the other ones. I was too thankful to be alive to care about that.

The mental healing took a lot longer.

I would jump out of my skin at sudden noises. If Amelia left the house and I was alone, I would lock all the windows and doors, and recheck them twice. I had to keep reminding myself that my attackers were dead, and they couldn't hurt me again.

Sleeping was difficult. During my waking hours, I tried to keep busy and think of normal, pleasant things, anything but that horrible night. But in my sleep I had less control over where my mind wandered. It took me to some dark places. The terror, the desperation, the feeling of complete and utter helplessness, every horrific moment was recalled just as it had happened. My skin would crawl as I felt their disgusting hands on my skin. Even worse, I relived the cold slicing of their blades, the sharp piercing points of their teeth. I remembered how I had lost all hope, how I had accepted that I would die a nasty, bloody death at the hands of those evil creatures. I had truly been broken. It was taking me a while to repair the damage.

Eric would visit, and stay with me when he could. He was the only one I would allow myself to break down in front of, although it hurt me to do so. I knew my tears only brought more anger and pain to him, and if I hadn't have been at rock bottom, I would have tried to retain more pride and dignity. We hardly spoke of anything other than the practicalities of my healing. There was much that went unsaid, during that time. Neither of us seemed to want to talk about it. Mostly, I would just cling onto him, and he would quietly soothe me. I was grateful for that.

We engaged in nothing remotely resembling sex. I even had this crazy (and frankly terrifying) idea that I might never be able to engage in sex ever again. Eric didn't push me. Even without the physical aspect, somehow we grew closer, during that silent time of painful tears and rage. At the same time there was a gaping hole in our relationship, a sort of raw wound which I couldn't quite locate to try to heal it. I was glad Eric was there to soothe and comfort me, but I was also angry at him. A part of me resented him for not being there when I called for him, in my most desperate need. I didn't ask him why he hadn't been there to save me, perhaps because I didn't want to know the answer.

Emotionally, I was a bit of a mess, to put it mildly.

It took a while for me to dream of anything good, or even something bizarre and surreal but sort of funny, like that dream I had once where Arlene turned into a giant French fried pickle and chased me through town shouting 'don't run from me, I am the pickle of dooooom, fear my pickle wraaaaath' and then squeezed ketchup in my face.

But then one night it happened. I had a breakthrough. I dreamt of something other than psycho fairies.

It'd been a couple of days since I'd seen Eric. I'd fallen asleep with him on my mind. Not as you might think, though. I was thinking, 'Next time Eric comes around I could ask him to move some of that firewood onto the porch, and he could get me that old shelf out of the attic because I'm running out of space to keep my books in the living room. In fact, he could put it up while he's here'. Hardly erotic fantasies, right? Just the ordinary kind of thing you think about when you have a boyfriend who can move heavy objects effortlessly and at lightning fast speed.

And so I slid off into sleep, Eric on my mind, hammer in his hand, fixing some brackets.

Admittedly, it started off as an evil fairy dream, where Eric completely ignored me while I was screaming at him for help, because he was too busy with DIY. But eventually he appeared, and all the fear simply faded away, and suddenly we were dancing together. We weren't alone, but the people around us were nonthreatening, faceless and completely unimportant. He was holding me close, his nose nuzzling in my hair, his fingers softly brushing mine as he held our linked hands to his chest, his other hand on my lower back.

We swayed in time to some random tune, and I sighed with contentment. I felt calm and cherished.

"I can give you everything you desire," Eric whispered at my ear. "Everything you need. If you would only let go and allow yourself to love me."

"Submit to you, you mean," I smiled, my cheek against his chest.

"No." We stopped swaying, and he placed a finger beneath my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. "I mean love."

He leaned down to kiss me. His kiss was soft and sweet, his lips barely brushing mine. Then he spun me into a twirl, before pulling me back to him, so that my back was flush with his body. He brushed my hair aside and leaned down to press a delicate kiss below my ear.

A shiver ran through me.

"You still... want me," I said, my voice trembling.

"Always," Eric replied.

"After everything... I'm... damaged."

"No. Never believe you are less than you once were. You are more. You are everything."

He held me close, and I brought my palm up to his cheek to stroke his face, and closed my eyes. I sighed deeply.

There was a lot more dancing, some kissing, maybe a little butt squeezing, but mostly I just felt content and safe and... I don't know, needed, or something. Vital. Hopeful.

When I woke up, I had that happy, fuzzy feeling that you get after enjoying such an excellent dream. Okay, it hadn't been some hot fantasy about me and Eric screwing our way around my house, but I thought of my romantic dream as a step in the right direction. My libido would surely soon get back with the program. I didn't over-analyze the content, I was just happy to be dreaming about something good again. It was such an improvement on waking up screaming after having nightmares about terrifying creatures with pointy teeth.

The whole day I had an extra spring in my step. Maybe, just maybe, the next time Eric came around, I'd feel my hormones jumping up and down and the tingling through my body to the tips of my fingers and toes, and he'd make love to me and it would be just as it had been before. I would be more like myself again. Eric would be Eric; sexy, relentless, incomparable Eric. There would be no tears, no nightmares, no welling anger or frustration. Things would be easy and natural and effortless.

Maybe.

When I got to work I was brought back to reality. There'd been a football game on, and the bar was busy with people celebrating a fine victory for the Bon Temps Hawks. Lots of patrons were wearing black and red, the school colors. The two priests, Father Riordan and Father Littrell, were sitting in my section, as were Andy and Halleigh. Everyone seemed to be in fine spirits that night, and I was constantly having to rush from table to table to keep up with refills and orders. By 7:30, my feet were aching, and my wrists were burning.

I'd just gone to the bar to collect an order for a bunch of young guys from the Norcross plant, and was thinking I'd have to check on the priests to see whether they'd finished eating, when I felt a firm hand at my waist. I immediately jumped and turned, ready to whack whoever thought it was okay to touch the waitresses without their prior consent around the head with my tray, when I caught a glimpse of a familiar smirk.

"Oh."

His grip tightened on me slightly, and his other big hand snaked around and brushed down my arm.

"Hello, lover."

I hadn't even felt his presence, such was my level of distraction.

"Eric! What're you-"

Before I could finish my sentence he'd taken my hand in his and had twirled me around. He span me a couple of times, and just as I started to stumble dizzily and had begun giggling hysterically, he dipped me, one hand holding me behind my head, the other at the base of my back, supporting my body. And then he kissed me.

At first I was shocked by the swift movement, and might have even shrieked a little. Then I panicked because I was at work and we were right in the middle of a busy bar, and everyone was going to see us. His fingers tangled in my hair, making a mess of my perfectly straight ponytail, and I worried about that too. And then I felt a familiar tingle. My previously rigid body relaxed, knowing he had an easy grip on me and my weight. Eric would not let me fall.

Now, a kiss from Eric Northman was always like an epic event. That vamp could do things with his lips that other people never even imagined was possible. He'd had a long, long time to practice his technique, and for me, it was a thousand years well spent. I'd had many an opportunity to reap the benefits, and always enjoyed myself immensely, even when we'd been kissing in the most awkward and inappropriate of situations. But this particular kiss, well, it was something else.

He kissed me as though he hadn't seen me in months. I felt the fiery passion behind it, and I could feel his hunger in the way his mouth worked against mine. I parted my lips slightly, and that was all the invitation he needed. Once his tongue was brushing against mine, I felt a kind of wild abandonment overtake me. My hand reached up automatically, and I held on to the back of his neck, desperate to keep him where he was.

I'm pretty sure nobody would have heard the frankly embarrassing moaning sounds I was making. Or maybe they did. I was just too busy to care.

In my peripheral consciousness I knew there were a few whistles, some coughs, and a whole heap of various thoughts from the Merlotte's patrons in reaction to what they were witnessing (ranging from disgusted to most definitely turned on). But mostly I was focused on the task at hand, which was returning Eric's kiss, and enjoying the incredible and very pleasurable sensations which were flooding my body. Certain parts of me were relaxed to the point of being wobbly, other parts were most definitely wide awake and paying a lot of attention to this interesting turn of events.

I don't know how long we were at it. It could have been seconds, it might have been minutes. But it was the best time I'd had in a long time.

When he pulled his lips away there was a satisfying smacking noise, and my own lips tingled. I took in some quick, deep breaths, and found it difficult to fully open my eyes. When I finally did manage to focus them, I saw Eric staring down at me, his own eyes wide and bright, sparkling with excitement.

I tried to pull myself back into the reality of the situation.

"Eric."

His name came out as a sort of breathy whisper.

"Yes, Sookie."

"I... oh." I swallowed hard. "Let me up. I have to get this beer to table six."

I saw confusion, or perhaps it was astonishment, flash across his face, before he pulled me up back into a standing position. The blood rushed to my head, and when I looked around the bar, it made its way directly to my cheeks. I wasn't usually a blusher, given the years I'd spent reading peoples most innermost, private thoughts, but right in that moment I guessed I was looking redder than my favorite cranberry-colored coat.

Sam placed a pitcher and two glasses on my tray. He put his hand on his hip and leaned against the bar nonchalantly, and I heard him think 'you done now?'

I gave him a quick guilty look, before scurrying off with the drinks to my waiting table. I couldn't even look at the guys I was serving. I about flung the tray behind the bar on my way back, and strode quickly into the ladies restroom.

Once I was alone, I braced myself against the sink, closed my eyes and took a moment to breathe. Then, slowly, a grin crept its way across my face. I looked in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh at what I saw. My ponytail was hanging limply on one side of my head, and there were strands of hair sticking out all over the place. Somehow one side of my t-shirt had been pulled out of my pants, and I quickly tucked it back in. I readjusted my apron and did the best I could with my hair, and when I finally felt like my pulse had settled to a more reasonable pace, I took a few extra deep breaths. I stood as straight as I could, reinforced my mental shields, and made my way back out to the bar.

There were a few glances cast in my direction, but thanks to the walls I'd erected, I was able to walk past a number of patrons without feeling too much embarrassment. In fact, truth was, I felt pretty darn good.

Eric was sitting at a table in my section, right in the middle of the bar, and I wandered over as casually as possible. His hair was down and all ruffled; he was wearing his post-make-out hair proudly, not bothering to set himself straight as I had. As always, he commanded the attention of everyone around him, while at the same time they tried their best to look as though they weren't checking him out or shaking in their boots. It was natural for them to be curious; after all, people like Eric didn't hang out in Bon Temps on a regular basis. A human version of Eric would have made people stare, given his size and gorgeousness, but the fact he was also a vampire, of course, this just increased the level of interest.

He was looking around the place like he was judging everyone and everything in it, right down to the beermats, and didn't think too positively about what he saw. He caught the eye of Father Riordan, who was sitting at the next table over, and I watched as he fixed him with a deadly stare. The priest crossed himself and began mouthing some quiet prayer, and Eric flashed him a fangy smile.

He could be such an asshole.

There were a few gasps when the fangs came out. Maybe some people hadn't realized what he was. Eric was never one to hide his nature, to pretend to be something he wasn't. I often wondered how he'd managed to keep it a secret all those years before the Great Revelation. It must have been a chore. If anyone loved being a vampire, reveled in it, then it was Eric. And Pam, of course. Vamp pride, she called it.

He was dressed all in black today; black jeans and heavy boots, and a black tank top under a black shirt and black leather jacket. It looked more like his work attire than his off-duty clothes, and I wondered if he'd decided to drop into Merlotte's before he headed to Fangtasia for the evening. I sighed, and hoped he'd stay at least long enough for a drink.

I stopped at his table, pulled my notepad out of my apron pocket and readied my pen. I watched as an elderly couple quickly got up and left, knocking over a chair on their way out.

"Fangs," I whispered quietly.

Eric looked up at me, smiling mischievously, and retracted them.

"Better?"

"Thank you. What can I get you this evening, Sir?"

"Well," Eric said, slowly leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "That depends. Do you want the explicit, dirty, adult version of the answer to that question, or the dull, uninteresting version?"

I steadied myself.

"B Positive?"

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Do you have AB negative?"

"No, I don't think so."

"O positive?"

"Maybe, I'd have to check."

Eric leaned back again, and the joints of the old wooden chair creaked.

"I will have O positive, served in a cocktail glass with a straw and one of those small plastic monkeys."

"Um..."

"You do have plastic cocktail monkeys here, don't you?"

"I don't think-"

Eric sighed dramatically, and scanned the room again.

"I will take it however it comes."

I scribbled something on my pad that actually read something more like 'O pos monkey comes' and turned on my heel. Andy Bellefleur caught my eye on my way to the bar, and I stopped by to see what he wanted.

"I'll take another beer, Sookie, when you're ready."

He made sure to give me a serious look that communicated how displeased he was that I had just made a show of kissing a vampire in the middle of Merlotte's. If it had been illegal to make out with vampires in public and he had the power to arrest me for such a heinous crime, I'm pretty sure he might've got his handcuffs out, right at that moment.

Eric might have had a few things to say about it, though. I actually got a kick out of imagining their exchange.

"Halleigh?"

"I'll have a ginger ale, please Sookie."

Halleigh smiled at me. I think we shared what might be called a girly moment. Without poking around inside her head I knew that even the quiet, reserved women like Halleigh had all kinds of romantic fantasies. She and I both knew that Andy was never going to take her in his arms, dip her, and kiss her face off in public. Hell, he might not even do that kind of thing in private, all I knew.

"I'll bring them right over," I said, removing their empties.

Behind the bar, I knelt down to the refrigerator to check on the blood situation. Without even realizing it, I began to massage at my wrist.

"You okay?" Sam asked, as he pulled some beer.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just a bit achy."

Sam knew about some of what had happened with the Fae War. I'd not spoken with him about it in much detail myself, and he hadn't asked a lot of questions, but he had probably heard all kinds of things on the Shifter grapevine. Supes are real gossips.

"Does Eric want blood? Should be a few bottles in there."

I knew that Sam was wondering what Eric was doing here, and also that he was a little annoyed about the scene he'd just witnessed. I decided not to enter into a conversation about why Eric might greet me in such an amorous way, with my boss. I'd been just as shocked as everyone else in the bar, and after all, it wasn't my fault. Sam could take his beef up with Eric.

I pulled out a bottle of O positive TrueBlood, and stood up.

"Do we have any plastic monkeys?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Another beer and a ginger ale for table eight."

I shook the bottle and unscrewed the cap, before going over and sticking it in the microwave to heat up. I prepared a martini glass, and poured Halleigh's ginger ale, then retrieved and poured Eric's warmed blood. I added a small straw and a yellow umbrella. Then I carried the drinks on my tray, and stopped off at Andy's first.

"Beer. Ginger ale."

I smiled my weird, slightly scary waitress smile at them. Andy looked decidedly annoyed at being served his drinks from the same tray as one which had a martini glass full of blood on it, and I kept my beaming smile firmly in place. It wasn't like he was a great tipper anyway.

"Thanks, Sookie," Halleigh said.

"You're welcome."

I trotted off to Eric's table, and placed a napkin down before setting the drink in front of him.

"How'll that do ya?" I asked.

Eric picked up the glass daintily by the stem, removed the umbrella, sniffed his drink, and took a sip through the straw. He fixed me with a stare as he pursed his lips and sucked. After downing about half the blood, he licked his lips and gave a nod.

"Delicious."

I smiled at him, and tucked the tray under my arm. I reached forward to smooth out his hair a little, I couldn't help myself.

"So, did you come out all this way to have me serve you microwaved synthetic blood substitute, or is there some other reason you came to Merlotte's tonight?"

As I tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear, he turned his head to the side to kiss my wrist. He looked into my eyes, and we shared a moment. I pulled my arm back, and fidgeted awkwardly with my apron string.

"You do prepare a wonderful blood substitute," Eric said. "An excellent temperature, expertly poured."

"Uh-huh."

"But yes, I did have other motives for visiting."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see a customer doing the familiar 'meerkat' maneuver, attempting to catch my attention.

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded at Mr. Meerkat to indicate I'd be over in a moment. I noticed that the empties were collecting around the pool table. I still hadn't cleared the priests' plates, though they'd got up and left not long ago. I was beginning to feel a pain in my lower back, and shifted my weight onto my other foot.

"Yes," Eric said. "I wanted to kiss you."

I immediately tore my gaze away from my tables and looked down at him.

"Oh." Who wouldn't respond to a line like that? He came out all this way to kiss me. Smooth. And most probably bullshit. "Well, that's... nice. You definitely managed a good job of it. But I guess you don't need me to tell you how awesome your skills are in the lips department."

"I also wanted to ask you something."

"Uh-huh." Here it comes, I thought. I found myself curious, though. Even if it was work - mind-reading or whatever – I was kind of excited to be needed again. To be doing something useful, more positive than itching my healing wounds and crying all over his shirts, would surely improve my spirits and take my mind off other things. Jenny, who was the waitress taking over my shift that evening, chose that precise moment to rush in and brush past me on the way around the back.

"Hey Sookie, sorry I'm late. Hey Sam! I'll be right out."

"Okay."

I looked back at Eric, still interested in what he had to say, but also working out in my head how many tables I needed to see to before I finished for the night.

"Ask away."

"I was going to ask if you would like me to give you a private lap dance out in the parking lot after work."