Angel of Mercy by PersianFreak

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris. Please don't sue.

Spoilers: All 9 books.

Rating: M

A/N: This fic was inspired by an exchange between Pam and Sookie in All Together Dead, which I moved up to after Dead and Gone in this story; that is the italicized bit in the beginning.

As is typical, the first chapter is very short, so let me know what you think.

PS I know, I know, "Go finish OMDB/No Choice/In Another Life". I'm going, I'm going.

Angel of mercy,

How did you find me,

How did you pick me up again?

Angel of mercy,

How did you move me,

Why am I on my feet again?

~"Mercy" by OneRepublic

***

"So the bottom line is, you're really loyal to Eric, and you want me to know that neither of you knew that Bill had a hidden agenda when he came to Bon Temps." Pam nodded. "So, you came here tonight to...?"

"To ask you to have mercy on Eric."

I laughed. I couldn't help it; it was just too much that Pam was asking me to have mercy on Eric. What was the world coming to? I laughed harder, though I was suddenly aware of how deranged I must have seemed to Pam. I could practically hear her thinking that the fairies had gone too far with the torture, and suddenly things weren't so funny anymore.

"You're wrong, Pam," I told her quietly, wrapping my gran's old afghan tighter around me: there was a cool breeze now blowing, and the way it played with her hair made Pam look even more lovely. "He's not the one who needs mercy; I am."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I looked up at the man suddenly standing in front of us and smirked.

"Well, hello. I was starting to think you were just going to hide in the woods all night." I had felt Eric nearby for nearly as long as Pam had been sitting on my porch with me. He looked good, I noted sadly. He knew what looked good on him, and that night it happened to be old army boots, dark jeans, white t-shirt and his black leather jacket.

"Pam, leave us," he ordered and Pam disappeared just like that.

"We were talking," I complained.

"You can talk later." He replied dismissively, "Now answer the question."

I huffed in annoyance and ignored him, making my way inside in the vain hope that he wouldn't follow me. Except that this was Eric, and he wasn't good at taking hints like that.

"Eric, get out." I poured myself some decaffeinated coffee.

"Are you going to rescind my invitation?" He mocked.

"Are you going to make me?" I glared at him, letting him see that I was quite serious. "Eric, I'm tired and my entire body hurts and all I want is to just go to bed, alright? So, please-"

"Where is your roommate?"

I gave him a hard look, "Not that it's any of your fucking business, but she left this morning. Went back to New Orleans."

Eric actually looked surprised, "Why?"

"Because her boyfriend died, Eric!" I snapped, the force of my anger surprising both of us. "It was too hard for her to live with the woman who was the cause of Tray's death; I understood that."

"Did she say that to you?" He asked, anger flashing in his eyes before he hid it from me. Not from the bond, though.

"Telepath, remember?" I tapped my temple tiredly and sat down at my kitchen table. "I'm alone again. I guess it's for the best."

"You're not alone," he cocked his head to the side, though he was still standing by the kitchen door.

"Eric, please just leave."

"I can stay," he argued smoothly.

"I don't want you to!"

"You don't want me?" He quirked one brow, and I wished that he would just drop the facade. Just... drop it. I was too tired; too damaged to keep on playing this game with him. I wanted him to be gone so I could crawl under my covers and pretend that the scars didn't exist; not on my body, and not on my psyche.

"I want you to make up your damned mind," I told him, my voice just barely controlled, "because I'm tired of you always just floating in the periphery of my life. I'm tired of you making these grand gestures that make me feel like I mean something to you, and then disappearing without a word for weeks at a time. I'm so tired, Eric. I just don't have the energy to deal with you, not anymore. So I need you to make up your mind and stick with it, because this dysfunctional thing we have going is not going to work for me anymore." I looked at him and remembered what it had felt like to be with Eric. Not have sex with Eric (though that was great), but be with him the way I had when he had lost his memory. He had been warm and kind and loving and... not Eric. What had made me believe that I could have that Eric back? How could I have been so foolish? The man in front of me was an ancient among ancients; he had survived far longer than I could possibly fathom, and he had seen and done far more than I would have liked to imagine, so what had made me think that he could be... mine? What had made me want him to be mine? The loyalty and kindness he had shown me on occasion did not set him apart; Sam, for example, had been a much better friend to me, and he had proved his loyalty to me many times. Why not Sam? Or why not Bill, for that matter? The man almost got himself killed because of me, for crying out loud. Why couldn't I find it in me to love him again? I stopped myself before I brought up how Eric had always seemed to get me. That was not a good enough reason to love a thousand-year-old vampire. Speaking of the thousand-year-old vampire, I was reminded that he was still not speaking. Not a single word. He was just standing there, calmly regarding me while the bond remained suspiciously empty.

He had shut down the bond. Alright, then.

"So come back when you've made up your mind, Eric." I dumped the coffee into the sink and headed for my bedroom. "Oh, and Eric?"

"Yes?" He turned, politely looking at me.

"I rescind your invitation."