What Sarah Said by PersianFreak

Rating: M
A/N: So this one right here gets into some pretty dark stuff, such as suicide and depression. If you are sensitive to either subject, I recommend you move right along.
Having said that, let me know what you think. This'll only be a handful of chapters, I suspect.

And I'll be thinking of what Sarah said,

That love is watching someone die.

So who's gonna watch you die?

"What Sarah Said", Death Cab By Cutie

Chapter One

I decided I was done, that cloudy day in March.

I was done with being the way I was, tired of how my life was panning out. I was disappointed with everything, I'd explained to the therapist I'd seen for a grand total of three sessions and I could almost see my diagnosis flashing across her mind. Depression, she said.
I was not surprised.

Watching the glint of the blade in the bathroom lights, I wondered about the possibility of there actually being an afterlife where I could see Thalia again and ask her all the questions that had been haunting me for months. The grief I felt ran far deeper than just pain over her loss; it ate me up that while I thought we were fine, she was thinking about someone else. Despite the overwhelming sense of betrayal, however, I still couldn't bring myself to be angry at a dead woman, especially not one who'd made me so happy for so long.

I began pressing the edge of the blade across my wrist, watching the skin give under the pressure but not break. It left a faint line when I removed it, and I rubbed it away before getting a better grasp on the handle and pressing the tip into the top of the imaginary line that extended all the way down my forearm. It smarted a bit, and I steadied myself to rip through the skin, mesmerized by the feel of the cold metal against my arm. The sound of the phone ringing startled me and the knife broke the skin, bright red liquid lazily bubbling out of the puncture hole to begin travelling down. The sight of that was enough to hold my attention until the voice on the answering machine caused me to snap my head up. The quality of the machine made it sound tinny, but I would recognize that voice and that accent anywhere.

"Hey, Eric," the hesitant voice travelled to the bathroom and reverberated faintly. "It's Sookie. I know it's been forever… but anyways, I got offered a job here so I've moved back, and I just heard about what happened. With you, I mean. I hope you're okay, Eric. I'd love to- I mean, if you're up to it, I was hoping we could talk. I'd love to see you, it's been too long and, and I miss you, Vike. So, anyways, if you're interested give me a call, yeah?" She'd left her number and a last awkward chuckle before hanging up and leaving me to contemplate this latest development. She'd been living in Shreveport ever since we graduated from UCLA, and I hadn't even seen her in something like four years, but her voice… I'd shaken my head and noticed the way the blood was drying on my arm and had even smeared on my t-shirt. I miss you, Vike, she'd said like it hadn't been a decade since she came up with the nickname. Vike, short for Viking, is what she used to affectionately call me all those years ago. What does that make you? Valkyrie? Should I call you Val? I'd ask and she would bite her lip, giving me a nod of approval. Pillage me, baby, she would murmur playfully and I would jump on top of her with a dramatic growl, reveling in her shrieks of laughter and laughing right along with her.
Gauging how I was feeling, I realized that for the first time in months I wanted something I could actually have. Not Compton dead or Thalia alive; I wanted to see Sookie. I wanted to see if she still had long hair, if she still refused to put on mascara, if her laugh was still as carefree. Standing up on shaky legs, I'd made a call to Dr Crane to book another appointment as soon as possible and got back into the bathroom, though this time for a different purpose. I showered and dried myself off, tossing the towel into the hamper to regard myself critically in the mirror. It had been ages since I'd left the house, let alone showered, shaved, or gotten a haircut, and I stroked my chin as I regarded the rest of my body. The last time I took a good look at myself I'd been twenty pounds lighter and muscular; I wasn't exactly looking too hot right then. A part of me wondered, as I poked the bit of flab on my stomach, if this was what Thalia saw and this was why she decided I wasn't enough, and I almost considered climbing back into the tub to finish what I'd planned on doing earlier. Instead I got dressed and called my sister, feeling a surprising amount of anxiety over speaking to someone I used to be quite close to, someone who was literally family.

"Eric?" She sounded a mix of surprised and cautious.

"Hey Pammy."

"I'm coming over."

Twenty minutes later my sister burst in wearing stiletto heels and the type of outfit most women wear to cocktail parties, but that she wore to run to the grocery store.

"Are you okay?"

The question caught me completely off-guard and I froze, not sure how to respond. As upsetting it was to admit that I needed help, that I had indeed let myself hit rock-bottom, maybe it was time to try a different approach. I clearly wasn't doing well on my own and Pam loved me, in her neurotic controlling but intensely loyal manner.

"Pam, I-" I sank down onto the couch and my sister took up a bit of a defensive position; feet firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed across her chest. "I was going to… end it, today."

"End it," she repeated ominously and I held out my wrist for her to see. Her eyes widened and she moved to sit beside me, her hand reaching out for mine. "Eric."

"I know. I just… I didn't know what else to do." I stared at my feet and realized I needed to cut my toenails; fuck, I was a mess. Even the house was in bad shape and it was a tribute to the depth of Pam's concern for me that she was ignoring the garbage strewn everywhere.

"Get help, Eric. Please, tell me you're going to get help," her voice broke on the last word and I looked up to really meet her gaze.

"I already booked an appointment with a therapist. I'm done feeling like this." I cast a look around the living room. "And I think I want to sell this house." It had just occurred to me that Compton had probably been here and that was not a memory I wanted in my house; nor did I want the memory of my dead wife. Or the suicide attempt I'd just considered.

888

Before everything went to shit I worked as a graphic designer, but what I really loved to do was freelance cover art jobs I'd do for a handful of major publishing houses. Everything from children's books to textbooks, since I did my own photography which served well for the latter. The creativity and the pretty steady stream of job offers dried up when things fell apart about a year before my grim resolution, when somewhere between our fourth wedding anniversary and the trip we'd been planning for her 29th birthday, my wife got shot and killed by some kid holding up a convenience store. Odds are, if you give a kid some meth and a gun and nudge him in the direction of a convenience store, he won't even make it inside but Tommy Mickens managed to not only hold the place up, but also aimed the bullet at just the right angle to rupture Thalia's aorta and leave her bleeding on the dirty linoleum. To this day it amazes me how quickly my life turned upside down, but a higher power decided to take my wife away from me. Or maybe it was just bad luck, for both Tommy and myself, since he ended up in jail and I ended up… well, you know.

Five days after I became a widower, at the wake, I'd been informed of the affair by none other than the man who'd been fucking my wife behind my back.

"She was going to tell you," William Compton had told me. "She did love you."

"She just didn't respect me," I'd grimaced and asked that he be escorted out before proceeding to empty the contents of my stomach in the toilet.
So the depression diagnosis did not come as a shock. And even though I'd been on antidepressants since about December, eight months after her death I found myself sitting in the bathtub with the same knife Thalia had once cut herself on, contemplating what only vaguely resembled my life. The woman I'd thought I would spend the rest of my life with had been cheating on me before her death, I had no steady income, and I'd managed to push away everybody who ever cared about me; my sister Pam, my friends, my parents whose overwhelming messages I'd started ignoring. Suicide seemed like the only option I had left, and I would have gone through with it had it not been for Sookie.

888

It took me a while to work up the courage to call Sookie back. By that point, I'd already been to see Dr Crane half a dozen times and had a brand new prescription, since the last one had clearly not been doing its job. It would take some time for the new stuff to work, but so far it had been going well, even though the urge to go through with my earlier plans still lingered. Other steps were taken as well, in order to get my life back on track; I'd cleaned the house from top to bottom and contacted a realtor to put it on the market, figuring I could use the down payment to get an apartment or something. Something that was mine. Additionally, at the suggestion of the therapist, I'd gotten back in touch with Tray and Alcide, both of whom responded rather enthusiastically and came over with some steaks, not speaking a word of how much of a shit I'd been to them for months. The following week, Amelia had called to invite me over, in her usual pushy way.

"Come on, Tray and I would love to have you," she'd insisted. "And Alcide and Maria are coming too, so it'll just be us, Eric. It's just a barbecue." So I'd relented, fully aware – for the first time – that within our college tri-coupledom, Sookie and I had been the only two not to last. Although technically I had been a part of a different couple while Sookie had drifted away by herself, except now I was thinking that she'd been keeping in touch with the girls if she was already caught up with my life. Maybe while I'd been so intent on pushing her out of my head, she'd been keeping tabs on me even though the last time I'd seen her had been at my wedding, and we'd only passively kept in touch through email for a couple of years before giving up completely.

So almost two weeks after my almost-suicide, after having listened to the message a dozen times, I dialed Sookie's number with shaking hands and waited for her to pick up, praying that it would be her machine and not her I would deal with.

"Eric?" Fuck. Of course she would have caller ID; she'd always been such a huge fan of it.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Hi," I stammered out like a fucking idiot.

"I can't believe you called. I was starting to give up."

"I wasn't sure I would," I confessed and could hear her exhale in disappointment.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I really do want to see you."

"That's what I want to talk to you about, actually. I'm not sure that's a good idea." I buried my face in my free hand, knowing that I was hurting her but not seeing the alternative.

"Oh."

"I'm just… I haven't been doing too well and I'm just trying to get my life back on track, and you…" I sighed. Your opinion means too much for me to let you see me like this, even after all these years, is what I'd been meaning to say, but Sookie cut me off.

"Say no more. I get it." She was definitely upset and I rushed to make it better, shocking myself with the depth of my emotions.

"No, Sookie-"

"Look, it's okay. I understand, really. I'll see you around. Take care of yourself." I could hear the determination in her voice but didn't possess the energy to argue with her, so I wished her goodbye and hung up. A few days later I put on a pair of shorts Pam insisted I needed and a black t-shirt, styling my long hair and going so far as to put on a bit of cologne. I didn't look nearly as homeless anymore, despite not having gotten a haircut yet. I almost liked the hair longer without the beard, and I had to admit I looked alright; not as insane as before. Tray picked me up on Amelia's orders to ensure I wouldn't "bitch out" and not show up, and I shut up and did not grumble until we arrived out our destination.

"Mom, dad wouldn't let me ride in the front," I whined as soon as I saw Amelia and she rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around me.

"Watch it, young man." She gave Maria a turn at hugging me, at which point I noted one rather crucial change.

"Hey, when did this happen?" I eyed her huge bump. How had I not known about this?

"Alc's birthday," Maria scowled over at her husband who just grinned and accepted the high-five Tray offered him. I stiffened as I recalled a message inviting me to a birthday party I'd ignored because I'd been too busy staying in bed and not showering. Catching on, Maria took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "We're glad you're here now," she murmured as she led me out to the backyard where Tray was arranging burgers and hot dogs on the grill.

"Me too," I responded rather sincerely and she gave me a smile before releasing my hand.

"Yo, want a beer?" Alc called from across the deck and I shook my head.

"I'm on meds. But thanks."

"Shit, sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine. You got anything else?" He glanced back down at the cooler and nodded, giving me a few options and handing me the ginger ale I opted for. A few minutes later I stood with the guys at the grill, idly keeping an eye on the food and absently aware of the girls chattering just inside that I heard a third female voice, talking and laughing. I froze, watching as the screen door opened to let Maria, Amelia and Sookie through. She froze too, as soon as she laid eyes on me, and her smile faded to the point where we were just two idiots gaping at each other while everybody else watched us in a varying range of emotions.

"Did I forget to mention you guys were both invited?" Amelia chuckled nervously and Sookie shot her the kind of look that would scare the shit out of me.

"Must have slipped your mind," she said wryly and I glanced around to confirm for myself that nobody else had any idea this was going to happen.

"Excuse me," I muttered to nobody at all as I pushed past them into the house, heading straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. Someone followed me while outside, Tray hissed something at Amelia who retorted, and I turned around to find Sookie visibly upset.

"I'll leave. I didn't know. I wouldn't have come if I'd known."

I shook my head. "Don't. Stay, please."

"Vi-… Eric, you didn't want to see me, remember? It's fine."

"I'm the one who had the problem, so if anyone is leaving it should be me." Sookie opened her mouth to protest but I continued, "And I don't want to."

She nodded and sank down into a chair at the kitchen island. "That Amelia."

That Amelia indeed. "Meddling brat," I chuckled, following her lead. "I'm sorry about what I said, it didn't come out the way I meant."

"So what did you mean?"

"I'm glad you called me. Honestly, I am." Maybe one day I'd tell her just how glad. "I do miss you, and when I heard your message, all I wanted was to see you."

"So what went awry?" She smiled.

"I didn't want you to see me like this," I grimaced. "I haven't worked in months, I've barely left the house, I'm in therapy and on antidepressants."

"So?"

"So, for some reason, I still care what you think of me."

"Because I'm devastatingly beautiful?" She teased and I couldn't help smiling back.

"Because you're the one that got away," I said and once again watched the smile fade away, this time to be replaced with firm resolve.

"Alright, 'cards-on-the-table' time. I want you, Vike. I've always wanted you, even though we broke up and I moved across the country. I shut my piehole and let you get married because you were happy, and I did my best to get over you but I never stopped thinking about you. About us. I know you're not in a place where you would want to be with me, so I'll wait as long as it takes. I might date other guys if I get lonely, but nobody has ever measured up to you so I don't anticipate that changing anytime soon. I'm not going to pressure you for anything you're not ready to give, I just need you to know where I stand and that I'll be your friend if you decide that's all you want from me." Her hand reached for mine. "You don't need to say anything right now. I'd like an answer eventually, but I don't expect it right now. I'm sorry if I've said too much." Biting her lip, she let me see that she was quite anxious, and vulnerable. But this was quite characteristic of her; she'd asked me out the first time too, because she'd always been so brave.

I'm what some people would call a fucking coward.

"You realize just how screwed up I am, right?" The depression, the insecurity, the trust issues. Oh, the trust issues. I couldn't imagine getting over any of it for a while.

"I'm fully aware," she'd quipped and I laughed, shaking my head as I stood to pull her into my arms. She went quite willingly, wrapping her arms securely around my waist and resting her head against my shoulder.

"Thank you," I murmured, unsure of what exactly I was thanking her for, but she just whispered back, "You're welcome, Vike."

We went back out eventually, smiling to let everyone know we were okay. Amelia, who had evidently been told off by Tray, solemnly apologized to us both and we hugged her to let her know it was okay. The rest of the day was spent eating and drinking and reminiscing about our college days, and as I looked around at my friends I began to remember what it was like to not feel alone. Looking at Sookie, I could see that she was a bit subdued, or maybe she'd just changed but I had a hard time believing that. If it was because of me, then I figured the least I could do was show her how I felt about it, about her. There had been a point in my life when I'd thought I would be spending the rest of my life with her, and it was hard to not remember everything that had led me to believe that. She was still beautiful, and fun, so when she sat down next to an empty seat I casually strolled over and sat down beside her.

"Hey," I offered her a smile and she cast her eyes around the deck. Tray was handing over Alcide's fourth burger while Amelia brought out more drinks, and Maria was in the bathroom for probably the tenth time. We were by ourselves, more or less, and I watched as she noted all the other seats I could have taken. I wanted her to know, as broken as I was, that she mattered to me, that I cared about her. Because what it came down to was that had she not called me at that exact moment that day, I would not have been there today. I owed her my life, but what I felt for her – had always felt for her – ran far deeper than that; deeper, probably, than I had ever had the guts to admit to myself.

"Hey yourself."

"So tell me about this job that made you move back."

"It's a regular gig for the Los Angeles Times. I didn't think I would get it in a million years," she shrugged. "Not that I'm going to question it. It pays really well, and I'm going to have a weekly column on top of whatever other story I get."

"That's great, Sookie," I told her with incredible sincerity. "Are you excited? When do you start?"

"I'm stoked," she nodded, a wide grin on her face. "And I start on Monday but I have to have a draft of my first column ready to go."

"Do you have it done?" I asked, forking some potato salad into my mouth. Amelia, as much of a busybody as she may be, was phenomenal in the kitchen. Probably elsewhere too, since Tray had been a bit of player before they met. She locked him down, he admitted during his bachelor party when we'd all been three sheets to the wind.

"Of course I do," she grinned. "Have you ever known me to procrastinate?"

I shook my head, recalling her crazy organization skills. "Well, I'm excited for you. And I'm glad you're back in town."

"Who isn't!" She giggled and I laughed along with her, which is when everyone joined us again. I looked up when Maria sank down beside me with an oomf and I instinctively reached over to rub her back.

"Eric, don't ever get pregnant. It sucks," she pouted and I nodded sympathetically.

"Well, I take my pills on a timer and I always make guys pull out, so I think I should be okay."

"See, to me she's all, 'Alc let's have a baby' so I get her pregnant and then she complains about it to you." Alcide sighed and took a seat, bringing his bottle up for a sip that he thought better of when he saw his wife's face. "Maybe I'll have a ginger ale too," he mumbled, rummaging around in the cooler as Sookie and I snickered quietly.

"Hey, do you guys want anything else or can I shut the grill down?" Tray called and we all gave him the 'okay' to go ahead so he joined us after giving Amelia a hand with the pitcher of punch and the huge bowl of pasta salad. I was having yet another helping of the potato salad when I felt a hand brush my thigh, and I looked over to find a mortified Sookie.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, letting the cynical discussion of reality shows go on without us.

"It's okay." We were all sitting pretty closely on the patio bench so it was expected that such things would happen, though I suppose she didn't want me to think she was putting the moves on me when just a couple of hours ago she'd promised to give me as much time as I needed.

"No, I told you I wouldn't and-"

"And you didn't do anything. Calm down, Sookie. I'm a mess but I'm not such a huge mess that I can't handle something like that." I gave her a smile. "It's okay, really."

"Okay," she nodded and I took a bit of a leap, reaching for her hand under the table to give it a brief squeeze. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw that she stared for a moment before jumping back into the conversation like nothing had happened. Once the sun set and the temperature fell we headed inside, helping to clean up before Alcide and Maria announced they were leaving.

"You okay to drive?" asked Tray.

"Yeah, I had a beer before dinner and that was it." Alcide smiled and opened the door for Maria.

"Eric, how are you getting home?" Sookie asked once she'd decided to head home as well.

"I think Tray is driving me," I said, glancing over to see Tray giving me a nod and a smile.

"I can drive you, if you want."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Where do you live?"

"Santa Monica." I smiled apologetically.

"Me too," she grinned and that was that. I'd worried, briefly, that we would have nothing to talk about during the long drive, but Sookie had been so sweet offering that I'd just trusted her and let it go. My fear had been in vain as I'd discovered once we got in the car and bantered our way all the way to Santa Monica, fighting over the radio station. When Sookie's blue Nissan Rogue pulled up in front of my house was when I realized that I had done something I had not done in nearly a year; laughed and joked around. Maybe it was the pills, the therapy, the company or a combination of the three, but I felt good. Great. Sookie looked over at me and turned off the radio, leaning back in her seat to regard my Spanish-style home.

"It's a nice place."

"I guess so. I'm selling it. I want an apartment; something smaller."

"Something yours?" She smiled knowingly and I nodded back. "I'm very sorry about what happened, Eric."

"Why, did you make that guy shoot Thalia?" I was joking and she knew it.

"No."

"Then you don't need to be sorry. Shit happens." Shrugging, I looked out the window at the way the moonlight cast shadows on the sidewalk.

"You seem awfully flippant," she said, softly enough to not offend me.

"Eight months and an almost-suicide attempt later, I figure I've earned the right." I hated myself as soon as the words left my mouth; I'd bristled and said it in a way I knew would get a reaction, which is not what I'd meant to do. Sookie gasped quietly and I saw her eyes fill with tears.

"When?"

"Two weeks ago." I wondered if I should tell her exactly when, wondered if it was wise. "Nobody else knows except my sister."

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered in a choked voice.

"Then why are you crying?" I reached for her hand.

"Because I can't imagine what would have happened if you'd gone through with it." Her words hit me low in the gut and I found myself walking to her side of the car to pull her out and into my arms. We stood for several long moments, just holding each other until I finally verbalized what had been on my mind.

"Sookie, I'm no good for you."

Her arms wrapped ever more tightly around my waist, fingernails digging into my back, and I stroked my thumb over the skin left bare by her strapless dress. "Let me be the judge of that."

"What if you're wrong?" I didn't think I had it in me to let her down like I'd let down my friends and family.

"Then it'll be my mistake, won't it." Her voice was muffled in my shoulder but I just held her tighter. She was so much smaller than me, tiny compared to my six-foot-five frame, whereas Thalia had been five-foot-eleven.

And I did not want to be thinking about Thalia in that moment, so I pressed a kiss into the top of Sookie's head, and another into her temple so that she looked up and I could press my lips against hers. She kissed me back, not pushing me though I still panicked and pulled back.

"Shit. Sookie, I'm sorry, I can't."

"I know," she gripped my hands to keep me from walking away. "It's okay. Hey," she reached up to tilt my head back down, "it's okay. Please don't panic."

I exhaled forcefully and nodded, letting her know that I was okay.

"Would you like to come in?" I offered as a distraction and she met my gaze.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I love to snuggle, remember? If I come inside right now, I'm going to want to snuggle with you and you're not ready for that, so I'm just going to go home and snuggle with my dog."

I smiled. "You have a dog?"

"A golden retriever named Gatsby. He's just a puppy."

A lovesick puppy. That was incredibly clever. "You would name your puppy Gatsby. Does he have a Daisy?"

"Not yet." She'd cast a look around before adding, "I should go home."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She'd reached up to give me a kiss on the cheek before getting in the car. "Hey, if you ever need someone, like a couple of weeks ago, please call me." When I nodded she gave me the kind of look I didn't imagine she gave often. "I mean it. You mean a lot to me, Eric." I leaned down into the window to press my lips against hers.

"Sookie, if you're going to date, I don't have the right to ask you to not do it, just please, I don't want to know about it."

She gave me a long, vaguely sad look before nodding and leaving.

I went that home that night and stayed up, thinking until the sun began to rise again.

888

The house was sold less than a month later and I moved out in mid-April to a small apartment, still in Santa Monica. Everybody came over to help; the girls to pack up what I wanted and toss what I didn't, and the guys to do the actual moving. Even Sookie showed up despite my insistence that she didn't have to. She'd brought several homemade pies and as soon as he saw them, Alcide had wrapped his arms around her like she'd been his own personal teddy bear. I handed over the reigns to my friends when it came to Thalia's stuff; I didn't want any of it, and whatever her parents wanted they'd long since taken. I told the girls to have at it when it came to her valuables but they hadn't touched a thing, and I'd made a point of not being around for any of that. Once everything was packed up we loaded the U-Haul for the short drive and my friends ignored me when I said they didn't have to unpack. I had to give them credit though; they made a party out of it, playing music and drinking and eating, infecting me with their lightheartedness. The guys and I had been in the office rearranging some shelves but it was so hot that I was given the task of retrieving drinks from the kitchen. I was about to turn the corner into the kitchen when I heart voices whispering and I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was that required lowered voices. Of course, this meant that I was eavesdropping but that thought was a bit slow in forming and I caught a voice, Amelia's I figured, whispering, "Because of the accident?"

"Yeah, it caused hemorrhaging." This second voice belonged to Sookie and I tensed, not liking the direction this conversation was taking or the tone in her voice. "The doctors told me when I woke up."

"Oh, Sook, if we'd known…" Maria began and let the sentence drift off.

"And there's nothing they can do? No hormone therapies?"

"It's not a hormonal thing, Mel. I am just physically incapable. It's okay, really, it's been four years now." Sookie didn't sound like it was okay, whatever it was, but she cleared her throat and I got the impression the subject was closed. I walked backwards and headed towards the kitchen again, this time making some noise to alert the girls to my presence and got two beers and a water out of a cooler, smiling innocently.

"Where'd you go?" Tray asked me when I returned and I mumbled something about needing to take a leak and handed him the beer. By 10 PM I was alone in my brand-new apartment and free to consider the conversation I had overheard which had led me to believe Sookie was infertile. I hadn't heard anything about her being in an accident and wondered why that was, if the girls had known but kept it from or if Sookie had kept it from all of us. I wondered how the subject had come up today, or if it made Sookie sad being around Maria; she'd always wanted children and now my heart ached for her. Had she been with someone when she'd found out? Was it harder now, dating knowing that she didn't even hold the potential for children and that it could be a dealbreaker for some people? I didn't let myself contemplate whether it was a dealbreaker for me, because we weren't together. Yet. Maybe not ever. Regardless, I went to sleep that night still thinking about her.

A/N: If you or anyone you know is having thoughts of suicide, please, please seek help or help them find it. Suicide, though it may sometimes feel like the only option, isn't the way to make things better.