Six years later…

It was a beautiful spring morning. Blades of freshly mowed grass stood at attention like quiet observers. He knew he shouldn't sit on the lawn in his two-thousand-dollar suit but it was a special day. And special days called for some ridiculously irrational decisions.

He crossed his legs, propping his upper body with his arms behind him, and stared at the sky, soaking in the sun - it was never too late to get a tan. He lowered his gaze back to the white tombstone in front of him. For the past four years this had been part of his morning ritual. He'd wake up at six, put on his track suit and start his thirty-minute jog to Graceland Cemetery in Chicago - except today he had taken his corvette. It would be downright stupid to run in a suit.

"The weather's nice today," he started conversationally. Nothing beats the classic weather icebreaker. Even when the person he was talking to couldn't care less if there was a tornado coming. He gently stroked a petal of one of the seven long-stemmed calla lilies inside a tall glass vase. "They ran out of peonies in the shop so you'll have to settle for lilies for now. They're quite good actually. Beautiful yet simple. I thought it's more like you."

He smiled wistfully before he hung his head and sat in silence again, as though waiting for her to respond.

"Lilith sent another postcard. It's unsigned like the others but I can tell it's from her. Last I heard she's in St. Moritz freezing her uptight ass off." He shook his head lightly. "That woman doesn't know how to quit."

After an exhausting six-month trial, Lilith - who pleaded temporary insanity upon the discovery of her husband's infidelity - had been sent to Valley State Prison where she spent the last five Christmases. They had clearly underestimated her wiles. Somehow, she, in a performance that deserved an Oscar, managed to downgrade her charge from first-degree murder to voluntary manslaughter. She served five of her ten years and was released nine months ago. She left the country as soon as the cuffs were taken off her wrists. It was part of her plea bargain - that she was to leave the United States after her release, never to make contact with any of the Northmans again.

Eric would have been pissed as hell but he had a lot on his plate to deal with besides her insanity - no matter how temporary she claimed it to be.

Besides Lilith just traded one prison from another. The way Eric saw it, Lilith would be spending her dotage away from the comfort of the people she cared the most. The one thing he learned over the past six years was that the worst part about death was not death itself, it was having to die alone.

"I know I promised to visit you every day, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to break that tomorrow," he rasped, trying hard not to choke. This ritual, from the moment he started, was never easy. The first time he tried talking to her was a disaster. He had broken down before he could get one word out that his father, who had gone with him, had to pull him in his arms as he wept like only a child would. "Y'see, I'm getting married today. Shocker, huh? How I managed to make her say yes, I have no clue."

He proposed last night. There was no grand gesture. Not even a ring or an eloquently-written speech. He just woke her up in the middle of night and said, "Let's get married."

If anyone asked, he'd say it was his first try. Pitifully, that wasn't the case. He had been dishing out proposals for years now and her answer was always a firm 'no'. So when she shrugged - eyes half open, barely conscious - and replied, "Sure," for a fleeting moment he thought he was dreaming. Then just before she closed her eyes again she added, "Not tonight though. I'm tired." He instantly panicked, thinking maybe she hadn't heard him right and thought he was asking for a quickie. He pulled the bottom drawer of his bedside table, fished out a red sharpie, grabbed her limp arm and scribbled: Don't forget: We're engaged.

Another poignant smile graced his face before he rolled up his crisp, white sleeves to read the message he found that morning: Don't forget: You're mine. Okay, so he didn't shower on his wedding day, big whoop. He just couldn't bring himself to scrub off her note. He needed evidence in case her feet went cold. She could be a little flaky.

"She's sweet, like you. She never lets me sleep without clothes on because she's afraid I might catch a cold. She talks in her sleep and grinds her teeth like you wouldn't believe. She denies doing them even when I already have incriminating evidence." He chuckled. "I took a video of her sleeping once. She called me a creep just before she deleted it. She's a real peach, you know. You're going to love her."

He smiled as he pushed himself off the ground. He smoothed his sleeves, brushed grass blades off his pants and went to touch the gravestone.

"She wanted to come here with me to get your blessing. I told her she was crazy for thinking you wouldn't approve of her."

The tiny hairs around his neck bristled as a gust of cool breeze grazed his cheeks. He smiled warmly. "I'd take that as a yes," he whispered to no one.

He ran his hand along the curve of the header, his long tapered fingers tracing the engraved lettering in marble.

Alicia Northman

"I miss you every day, Mom. So much more today."

E/S

He was practically sprinting along the winding corridors of the city hall. He had miscalculated his travel time and didn't take into consideration the heavy traffic that greeted him as soon as he hit the expressway. It would be a miracle if he'd make it in time.

His phone had been ringing off the hook his entire drive to city hall. They must have thought he suddenly had cold feet and bolted.

"Uncle Eric!" a dark-haired boy called out, running toward him, arms outstretched.

"Hunter!" he panted before he scooped him up, making the boy squeal in delight. "Where're your moms?"

"Inside," the boy cooed in his cute little voice. "Waiting for you. Mama Pam said you better have a good excuse for being tardy or she'll castrate you before your honeymoon. What's castrate, Uncle Eric?"

Eric sighed. Pam should really watch her language, especially with an impressionable – not to mention inquisitive – boy around. "Castrate means congratulate in Italian, champ."

"Oh." The boy nodded, buying his lie.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Amelia waltzing up to them, grinning. When the adoption agency overturned Pam and Miriam's application in the fear of setting a bad precedent for future applicants, Amelia decided to keep her son. According to Amelia, there was only one couple she deemed perfectly capable to raise Hunter. Amelia later on moved to Seattle so Pam and Miriam could help her take care of Hunter. Then four years later all four of them relocated to Illinois and were now living under one roof. Eric often joked that their living situation could be a good plot for a sitcom. Truth be told, Hunter was luckiest boy on earth with three devoted mothers ready to spoil him.

"There you are! You're in big trouble, Mister!" Amelia chimed as she met them halfway.

Eric put Hunter down and watched the little boy wrap his arms around his mother's leg.

"Don't too be hard on him, he's my best man."

Amelia took Hunter's hand. "Oh, I wasn't talking to him."

Crap. He was in deep shit.

The double doors to one of the rooms burst open and out came Pam followed by Miriam wearing almost identical dress suits. They were not only partners in life but also in business. After Eric and Pam sold the Tavern, Pam and Miriam started their own line of children clothing with Hunter as their inspiration.

Pam was stomping toward him, arms akimbo, looking like she was one steak meal away from a coronary. "This is not the time to be fashionably late Eric."

He gave her his best puppy dog eyes before he kissed her cheek and whispered. "How is she?"

"Like she had Xanax for breakfast," Pam griped. "That's why I'm doing the panicking for her."

Of course she would be calm. She knew he would never desert her.

Taking a necessary, steadying breath, he marched toward the judge's office. But before he could push the doors open, they swung inside, revealing another familiar face.

Godric was the first one he phoned after she accepted his proposal. It wasn't entirely out of sentiment, though. He needed his father to call in a few favors to expedite the processing of their marriage license. His father was more than eager to help. Around six o'clock that morning, Godric flew in from Los Angeles with his ex-wife. After the dust had settled regarding Lilith and the Enterprise, Godric and Michelle kept their promise and had their marriage annulled and then they had Godric's adoption of Sookie and Pam overturned.

"Eric! Did you get my text about taking Lincolnwood instead of the expressway to avoid traffic?" his father started prattling.

Eric shook his head no. He was too nervous to check his phone.

Godric reached for Eric's tie and straightened it, probably to check if it was a clip-on. "So what did Mom say?"

Eric bit the insides of his cheeks to keep a straight face.

"She was wondering where you were," he deadpanned. "But don't worry; she said she'll visit you soon."

He left his father laughing as he made his way into the judge's office where his bride was waiting for him.

E/S

He found her standing beside a massive wooden desk with her mother. Michelle had been a regular presence in their household after she moved to Chicago the same time he and Sookie - along with Pam and the rest of her troops - uprooted there two years ago. Every two weeks Michelle would fly to Los Angeles to be with his father. Yep, they had that kind of relationship. In Facebook's lexicon: It's complicated. They had lengthy conversations about Michelle's living condition. Eric and Sookie thought that it would be practical for Michelle to live with her ex-husband in California, regardless of the fact that they had been legally separated for years. But Michelle was adamant to stay in Illinois and live within spitting distance of her daughters. It's time for me to be a mother, was her unwavering rebuttal. No one could argue with that.

The mother and daughter tandem were the only people in the room and were oblivious to his arrival. He kept his movement to a bare minimum, holding the metal handle upright before gently closing the door behind him.

Sookie was holding the mobile phone to her ear, mutely bobbing her head, listening with rapt interest to the other line. He could tell it was an important call by the way she was biting her lower lip and threading her fingers through the length of her hair. Her hair was her armor. It had grown so long - now up to her waist and yet she still refused to have it trimmed. Losing her hair to chemo made her realize she much she loved it.

E/S

Six years ago...

He would never forget that night back in Seattle, three weeks after she started treatment. He had to fly to Los Angeles that weekend to testify in Lilith's trial. He didn't want to leave her but he had no choice. It was the trade-off he made for the lawyers not to imbue Sookie in the case.

He remembered bringing cannoli, cradling the box like a newborn, while he called for her. He should have known something was wrong when she sent the respite care home early.

He found her in the empty tub, naked, curled up with her chin to her knees, weeping as she scooped up clumps of hair in the drain. He dropped the box of cannoli on the floor before he dashed to her side, picked her up and carried her to their bed, cannoli already forgotten.

He held her, wrapped his arms around her frail form, trying hard to ignore the way her body tensed at his touch. She had been a trooper in her chemo sessions - bringing cookies for everyone, dishing out jokes and cancer puns left and right. She was the picture of a woman who wasn't intimidated by her disease. For them she was bulletproof. She managed to fool them all, but not him. He knew hiding behind her choreographed laughs and insincere chorus of 'I'm fine' she was broken. And this was the first time she let him see just how badly.

He should have said something, but he couldn't summon a single word. So he just held her until her sobbing turned into quiet whimpers. As soon as he was certain she was asleep, he went back to the bathroom, grabbed a pair of scissors and started shearing his dark blonde hair. He then slapped a generous amount of shaving cream and picked up his electric razor, hissing every time he nicked some areas. He couldn't stop her hair from shedding but he could join her in her misery. He realized he had never given her a love letter. He thought he'd start today.

He woke up the next day with a couple of hands slapping his chest.

"What have you done?" she shrieked in her hoarse voice.

Wiping the drowsiness off his bleary eyes, he sat up and smirked. "I'm following a new trend," he quipped. "Haven't you heard, bald is the new black."

"You're an idiot," she said, shaking her head.

"Want me to do yours?" he offered with an amused grin, twirling a finger around her thinning hair.

"Are you mad? Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look like Walter White." Her face hollowed; she was probably biting the insides of her cheeks to refrain from grinning.

She was right. It was a botched job. But before he could utter another word, she pinned him to the bed with all her fragile strength and kissed his hairless scalp with the tenderness that nearly made him cry.

E/S

Present time...

"Oh thank heavens you're here!" Michelle called out, jolting him back to the present.

Two pairs of blue eyes were fixed on him but he only met one. Hers.

Her lips pulled into a soft smile and he swore his heart jumped to his throat at the sight.

Sookie's ivory lace dress that Pam had lent her at the last minute made her look serene –otherworldly even. It was, in a word, perfect. And to think that she had initially refused to wear anything remotely close to white since, according to her, it was technically her second wedding.

Her marriage to Bill had been dealt with rather quickly. In retrospect, she should have asked for an annulment instead of a divorce, but since Bill pulled a Houdini after he was released from the hospital they had no other option but to go with the dissolution of marriage.

Your marriage to Bill doesn't count, was Eric's only argument. And that was apparently all she wanted to hear. She immediately dropped the issue and phoned the cavalry. Easy peasy.

He wished he could say that it had always been that easy. It wasn't. The past six years had tried him in ways he never would have imagined.

E/S

The first year was difficult. It didn't matter how they tried to detach themselves from Lilith's trial, the media still hounded them mercilessly - picking at any scrap they could find. They tried to keep themselves on an even keel and managed to lay low. But the hounds, unfortunately, were pushy, not to mention ruthless, sons of bitches.

In court and in public, he was always impassive. Some asshole even gave him a nickname, 'Arctic Eric,' he couldn't bring himself to give a single fuck.

Lilith had warned him before the trial began: It would get very ugly very fast. It did. And damn if he could say he didn't see it coming.

The hounds didn't come after him though, they came after her. She was in her third month of treatment when someone from Lilith's camp leaked Sookie's medical records. From her miscarriage to her leukemia. He thought they'd spare her because of her condition but, apparently, it was a war and in a war the first casualty would be the one who didn't know how to dodge a bullet.

Sookie was in the middle of her chemo session when a couple of reporters barged in and badgered her about her relationship with him. Sookie managed to dismiss them and threatened them with a restraining order.

That was when they decided to hit them where it hurts the most. The hounds – who were obviously in Lilith's payroll- started dubbing his unborn child Joffrey, a blatant reference to a fictional character who was born out of an incestuous relationship between siblings. Eric went ballistic and sued them all. Fuck the First Amendment. The media overplayed their damned cards.

Eric's attack against the hounds worked to Lilith's advantage. It didn't matter who fired the first shot, with the media on her side, she managed to get the sympathy vote. In the public's eyes, Eric was Goliath going after an old woman. Ergo, the plea bargain.

They relocated to New York soon after the trial. Sookie continued to seek treatment at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. Fourteen months after she started her sessions, she went into remission.

E/S

He sauntered toward them, trying his darned best not to trip over his own feet. His movements halted when she raised her finger to him and mouthed 'one minute'. His brows shot up, his ego complaining. Who could be more important than him?

While Sookie stayed in her post, Michelle giddily met him halfway and gave him a peck on both cheeks.

"Who's on the phone?" he asked at once.

"Dr. Jenkins," Michelle hushed. His eyes widened, a burst of panic rising up his throat at the mention of Sookie's oncologist. "She phoned earlier but Sookie missed it. She's just returning her call."

His eyes darted back to Sookie. "Should I be worried?" Too late, he was already flustered.

Michelle's lips curved tightly as she pinched his shoulder. He could tell she was concerned too. "Let's not jump the gun. This is not the day to be cynical. This is your big day." She flashed him another forced smile, which didn't do anything to assuage him.

He blinked a few times. Sookie had turned her back to him – which was clearly a deliberate move to hide her face.

He gritted his teeth. Goddamit, she was stonewalling him again.

E/S

Four years ago…

He was in the middle of lunch with his accountant, Bobby Burnham, discussing how to manage the windfall he got from Thalia's will when he got the call from Sookie.

"Hey hon," was his greeting, which elicited a snicker from Bobby. He rolled his eyes at the accountant.

There was a three-second delay before she spoke. "Eric," she husked, her voice scratchy. "It's back."

She didn't need to say anything else. He knew what she meant. There was only one thing that could make her sound so gutted.

He found himself unable to speak too. He was stone cold for a moment as the words finally sunk in. He left Bobby in a haste and rushed to their Upper East Side apartment where he found her shoving her clothes in a luggage.

"What're you doing?"

"I can't do it," she replied without looking at him. "I can't go through that again."

He sat at the edge of their bed, his back to her. "And where the fuck do you think you're going? In case you're not aware, Sookie, this is one thing you cannot outrun." His voice was hoarse and shaky.

"I'm not trying to outrun it Eric. I know how fucked up I am. But there's still a chance for you. That's why I'm going back to Seattle. I've called Mom, she'll pick me up in the airport. This is your out. After of all you've been through for me this is the least I can do. Not because I can't have a life doesn't mean I can't give you back yours."

"Oh my god," he sighed exasperatedly. "Are we doing this again?"

She slammed her palms on top of the strewn clothes. "You're not listening to me! I'm telling you I can't go through that again! I can't! I thought I can beat it but I can't. It's too hard." She broke down, burying her face in her hands as she sank to the carpeted floor of their bedroom.

His heart clenched. Chemo was a son of a bitch. He had seen her struggle. Felt the pain she didn't want to share.

After a few heartbeats, he got up and went to get another suitcase from the walk-in closet and started filling it with his clothes. He heard her feet padding toward him.

"What are you doing?" she echoed his previous query.

He replied with silence.

"Eric!" she called out. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Packing," he answered in a flat tone. "We're going back to Seattle, aren't we? I'm done with New York anyway. Too many broadways and the people here walk way too fast for my pace."

Sookie kneeled beside him, tugging his arm. "No. Nonono. You're not coming with me."

"Look," he sighed. "I'm tired. I feel like we're in a fucking twilight zone here. We've had this discussion before. If you don't want to take the treatment again that's your prerogative. But you can't make decisions for me. You can't walk away and not expect me to follow. I've done that before; I left you to your devices and I was miserable. And that was my chemo. You're telling me you can't go through treatment again so now I'm asking you not to subject me to that kind of torture too. I can't unlove you, Sookie. I've tried but I seriously can't."

She slumped in front of him shaking her head over and over.

"I'm not doing this because I don't love you," she said, wiping her tears with the pads of her fingers. "I'm doing this because I do."

"I know."

They returned to Seattle the following day. Pam and Michelle took the brunt of convincing her to try chemo and radiation again. He goaded them silently on the sidelines. Three weeks of relentless entreating later, she finally agreed. Unfortunately, Dr. Brigant had already retired and with the rumors of Lilith's memoirs brewing in California, they knew it was only a matter of time before the hounds would pound on them again.

It was her mother who suggested Ohio. Cleveland Clinic was one of the best hospitals in the nation, she said. The location was ideal if they wanted to stay off grid. Michelle was right. Moving to Ohio was the best decision they made. The doctors and the staff treated them like family. Sookie felt right at home. In less than a year of intensive combo of chemo and radiation, she went into complete remission.

They remained in Ohio for a couple more years for a few more cycles of consolidation chemo before they decided to relocate in Eric's hometown, Illinois, which was only an hour flight or a seven-hour drive to the Clinic. Every month, they'd go back to Cleveland for her routine check-up. Suffice it to say, Ohio became their second home.

E/S

Present time…

"So…" Michelle hummed in an attempt to distract him. "Are you ready?"

"Huh?"

"Are you ready to marry my daughter?"

Despite his growing tension, he still couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the question. "I've married her a thousand times in my head. This is only for formality."

Michelle beamed, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. "Then I'll tell the judge you're here."

"Thanks, Ma."

Ironically, Michelle had been his stepmother for nine years, but the day her marriage to his father was declared null was the day started calling him Ma. She squeezed his shoulder one more time before she marched out of the office.

He turned his gaze back to his bride. She was still on the phone but no longer on her feet. She had slid in the seat against the wall.

He didn't know which was faster, the movement of his feet or the thumping of his heart as he closed their gap.

"Are you sure?" he heard her say.

She paused and from the way she clapped her hand over her chest, he could tell she was also holding her breath. He cussed inwardly. This could not be good.

"Okay. We'll be there soon. Thank you."

She put the phone down and met his gaze. Tears formed in the rims of her eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest provocation.

"What is it?" he almost choked, his eyes stinging.

She blinked hard, her neck visibly tightening.

"Is it back?" Even as he spoke the words lowly, his mind was letting out a mental scream. God, no. Please, God, no.

She cupped his cheeks and opened her mouth but no word came out.

No, he kept praying, please. Not again.

"Dr. Jenkins found some abnormality with my last blood work. She ran a few more tests and…"

Please...

Her lips broke into a smile as she blinked back tears. "I'm pregnant."

End.

A/N: I don't own Eric.

A special shout out to Amandagm and all the wonderful work she put into this fic. I love her to bits!

To Realjena, for all the help and unyielding support. She's the best (and awesomest!) cheerleader ever!

To MsStitcher, who kept me focused with her thoughtful and creative input. As Sherlock would say, laters!

To Duckbutt! A real-life cancer survivor who generously shared her experience with me. You have more to do, dearest!

And, of course, to all of you who indulged me and stuck with me through the ups and downs of our gravely underappreciated couple on TB. Much, much love!