Chapter 3 – She is Gone





He kissed her desperately in the brief moment of time they had left before his absence would become too apparent. He slipped a sealed piece of paper in her pocket.


“Read it when you get home,” he said with his final kiss.


“Don’t worry,” she whispered into his ears. “I’m far from done with you yet.”


He gave her a knowing smile placating to her hope as the weight of their end sank to the depths of his body. With a heavy heart he flew up into the sky.





As Eric finished briefing his progeny in his office he gave a signal that they were to meet in the supply closet in five minutes. She gave him her customary farewell true to script and he finished up the last of his paperwork sparing him three minutes with his own thoughts.



He had written her a sappy note. Eric could freely admit to that, he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Never did he have need for it till now but he had written it for her. To remember him by. Partly for himself because he knew she would cry for him. That someone would carry tears for him because he wouldn’t cry. For Pam and his maker he would cry but not for himself.


He had accepted his fate but her visit had given him a sliver of hope. Pam. She could release Pam from his maker’s command, the one imposed by Godric on him. He would release Pam and Sookie could break his commands. To a grand sire the release of their child’s child felt the same as a true death. A fizzling of the tie. This is what he would inform Godric what happened. He would be able to detect his deception so he would have to word it carefully.


She is gone.


Those were the words he had settled on. It would be true; he was sending her away out of state lines. Preferably out of the country. She would fight him on this, just like Sookie. For a brief moment he worried about putting two such determined women together. Perhaps it was for the best for them to have one another. Sookie would need some sort of protection from who knows what would move in with the power vacuum. They would balance each other out quite well. Pam was rational enough to halter Sookie’s bravado where Sookie was an invaluable asset Pam would not do as well without.


She is gone.


They were the words he had to swallow ever since he departed from the blonde telepath. He got up for his off the record meeting with Pam. His time for contemplation was now spent on the two most important women in his life.


Pam was caging back and forth in the small space and when the door opened she looked downright pissed.


“It smells of blood and sex in here,” she hissed with daggers shooting from her eyes. “More specifically of you, blood and sex.”


“Sookie,” he answered in response to both.


Her eyes widened momentarily in shock before she went back to pissed. “Ass.”


“Yes, twice actually,” he smirked in reminiscence. It would be only thing that could get a semblance of joy in his mind. He would be holding onto those memories for as much time as he could allow.


Pam rolled her eyes at him her annoyance ever apparent he had no need for the gesture the register as much. Abstinence and fasting had made Pam even more detesting of everything and everyone. He had allowed her to sustain on Tru Blood whenever she could without raising suspicions. Still it tasted like shit. Now he stood in front of her gloating about partaking in both blood and sex with the vampire version of catnip and the Holy Grail combined. He truly was an ass and it had nothing to with the magnificence of his rear.


“How?” she asked hoping to get on with it. She knew her master wasn’t that cruel to just call her in here to rub it into her sensitive nostrils.


“She came to say goodbye,” he shrugged. “She offered me her blood. I had to wait till after dawn.”


She nodded understanding now how he had been able to circumvent Godric’s detection. She remained pissed that she had been excluded from this impromptu feast. Eric was always terrible when it came to sharing and apparently impending death had done little to change that.


“Well you can smell the rest,” he continued. “That’s not the most important though. Her telepathy it worked on me.”


“She read your mind?” Pam asked disbelievingly. “Well there’s another corpse for the ever growing shit pile.”


“Pamela,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.


Her shoulders moved up unimpressed as she regarded him with her blank face. It was the truth as far as she was concerned. What use was sugar coating it?


“I don’t think so,” he explained even though he had considered she had heard a glimpse. Mine. “She was able to release Godric’s command not to speak of the final plans.”


After he demonstrated to her what he had not been able to tell her before. She was shocked not only at the full extent of the clusterfuck they now found themselves in but also Sookie’s expanded ability. The telepathy on its own had done little to impress Pam so far.


“We can use her,” Pam exclaimed with glee. “We can run Eric.”


He shook his head regretting to have to repeat the conversation he had with Sookie hours earlier.


“Just you.”


“Eric, no,” she said with pain that cut sharper than any sword to his core. A small blood tear fell on her flawless pink pantsuit as the only physical sign of their collective pain.


“One is better than none,” he spoke reverently. It was spoken out of comfort but neither one of them received any of it with his words.


“Two heads are better than one,” she replied sarcastically.


“I cannot serve two masters,” he said as he softly kissed her forehead. “Let me go.”





Sookie drove home satiated and sore refusing to let pessimism stifle her determination. ‘Walking on Sunshine’ was playing on full blast in the bright yellow car as she screeched along painfully out of tune. In her mind she was planning ahead. Sookie was going to drive over to northern Mississippi the next day and use her telepathy to find the ancient vampire.


Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt she should condemn her actions of the day but she couldn’t. As wrong as it was to betray Bill like that, conditions had made circumstances. The saying ‘All’s fair in love and war’ suddenly gained meaning to her. After only just surviving her death at the hands of a serial killer she had vowed not to live with any regrets.


She placed Eric’s note unread under the floorboard of her bedroom. It held a small collection of items that had gained importance in her short life. It would remain unread there until she had determined there was no hope or he was truly gone.


She regretfully showered the feel of him off her and crawled into bed. A mental note was made before she drifted off to inform Sam she would be gone for a while. He’d fight her on it, well aware what she was up to but she would quit if it came down to it. No regrets.


Her doorbell rang incessantly at three in the morning. She cast out her mental net and discovered the signature of one of the undead. It was vaguely familiar but she didn’t recognise it as Bill or Eric.


“Pam?” Sookie said shocked at the normally put together vampire looking so vulnerable at her door greeted her. She feared the worst for Eric. “What happened to you?”


“He released me,” she whimpered. Sookie let out a sigh of relief with the knowledge he was still alive for now. Sookie knew vampires weren’t very touchy feely but the situation seemed dire. So she did what she would have done to Pam were she human. She embraced her in a hug as Pam continued to sob bloody tears all over her white nightgown.


“We’re going to find Russell Edgington, Pam don’t give up on him yet,” Sookie soothed as she tried to believe the determination of her own convictions.


Her words seemed to reach the normally stoic vampire. She removed herself from Sookie’s grasp and cleared her face. She adjusted her posture and she seemed just like the vampire who had greeted Sookie at the door of Fangtasia.


“Would you like some blood,” Sookie offered. “I think I have some True Blood in the fridge. There will be some at Bill’s regardless.”


“So no Eric Northman treatment for me then,” she leered a little at Sookie as her natural persona reappeared.


“Sorry Pam,” Sookie smiled good-humouredly at Pam’s regained composure. “I’m all out of me.”


“I’m still commanded not to partake in fresh feeding for now,” she shrugged. “I’ll take whatever you have. It all tastes like cardboard to me.”


Sookie watched in fascination as Pam downed her entire supply of Tru Bloods with the largest grimace she had ever seen anyone sport.


“Here,” Pam said looking a little rosier. “It’s a list of commands my maker wishes you to break.”


Sookie took the piece of white paper with his elegant script. One she had only known of since the night before. She traced it lightly as she read the different commands that had been imposed on Pam.


“Which one first? The feeding?”


Pam shook her head. “No I’m starving and you’re the only edible thing around here. By the looks of you Eric took his fair share. I’m not risking it upon his request.”


Sookie blushed as she remembered how Eric had taken blood from her and the sensation of it alone. Her rose coloured cheeks didn’t dissipate much after she thought of what had happened after that.


“So we’re skipping out on the abstinence one then too,” Sookie said to a disappointed Pam.


“Well I was hoping not,” Pam purred out.


“Things might be desperate Pam, but I’m not.”


“Shame,” she shrugged. “I’ll find someone soon enough. Till you’re desperate that is.”


As Sookie shook her head in disbelief at Pam’s persistence they set about breaking the maker’s commands. Testing each one aside from her enforced abstinence. It was nearing dawn and Sookie brought Pam to Bill’s hiding place.


“How can he live like this? It’s like he was asleep the last century,” Pam said disgusted at the dishevelled hovel that Bill Compton called his home. Pam had only ever slept in dirt in dire emergencies but Bill Compton apparently felt right at home in it. This spoke volumes to Pam of his character.


Sookie started to tear up at Pam’s words. The thought of Bill dead or alive was still distressing. She could only hope for the best within the unknown circumstances that shrouded her. What was most disturbing to her was the thought of never knowing what would come of him. If she was fighting a battle already lost or not.


Pam awkwardly patted her shoulder with a little too much force for it to be a gentle touch. “There, there,” she intonated without an ounce of warmth.


“Thank you Pam,” Sookie replied politely as she dragged her tears away with the backs of her hands. “I’ll be back here at sunset.”





The phone rang indicating an unknown number. His thumb lingered millimetres over the touch screen waiting to hit the green button. His hand still held the same rigid stance of his human days. A sword had resided in that crevice since he could walk and his hand had simply grown around it along with callouses of use. It had impended him from using his hand to its full range all his existence, interestingly enough his hand was now the perfect cradle for his mobile phone. In contemporary times the phone had also waged more wars than his broadsword. He missed those days, things were simple and settled with a stroke of the sword now he had to persist with a swipe of his thumb. Nothing ever got resolved with that movement.


“Northman,” he finally answered wondering where his lust for a good battle had departed to.


“My son,” the voice on the line said in Eric’s native tongue. “I felt your distress. Has something happened to Pamela?”


“Yes,” Eric said. He concentrated on his feelings knowing he would never see his progeny or Sookie again as he spoke the words he had carefully chosen with great remorse. “She is gone.”


“I lost a child before I made you,” Godric spoke as he recognised the same emotions he had once felt in his seemingly endless existence.


“Cecily,” Eric supplied remembering.


The line remained silent for some time. Eric felt the maker child bond dampen from Godric’s side. Godric had spoken of her only once when Eric had asked if he had siblings. He was given a name and no more, the bond had stood decidedly empty then too.


“I am sorry for your loss,” Godric finally said thinking of the words humans offered each other in condolence. His immersion among the Newlins had given him an appreciation for such acts of kindness expressed in words. Death was familiar to him but loss was something that wore him down. It haunted his existence where death was simply a companion.


“As am I,” Eric replied truthfully. He knew his maker would not want to speak more of it. Some things never changed over the many centuries of existence. Thankfully it was to his and Pam’s advantage now. “How are things in New Orleans?”


“Things are as well as can be expected,” he replied stoically. “I would like you to join us here.”


“I can drive out tomorrow night,” Eric said. “I would be there before dawn.”


“Very well,” Godric replied before the line went dead.


Godric had not thought of that name for so long. When he felt that little spark of life fade through his child her face had emerged again. Now he sat in his darkened chamber her name and appearance refusing to leave him alone. A white light always shrouded her form. Sometimes she waved. Other times she sat and stared. It was not much different to when she was still undead. Now she sat on his desk looking directly at him piercing her eyes to the very depths of his being.


“Cecily,” he spoke softly. A single tear shed in her memory.


For the first time in all the centuries that he was so sure he saw her, she spoke back.


“What has happened to you father?” the frail girl asked.


She was but a wisp as a human, her skin already deathly pale before her turning. Her green eyes had haunted him ever since. Delicate and fine features graced her. Godric had remarked that she would be considered the epitome of beauty in these times. She was always too skinny to be considered as such in her era. This was the first century Godric had lived through that excess had bred worth in restraint. These times would have suited her.


Her hair was a tousle of light red waves that always overshadowed her frame as she looked up at him through a curtain of them expecting an answer.


“You speak,” he said in awe.




“Little has changed with you then,” Godric mused with a tiny smile.


“Much has changed with you papà,” she said with a small snigger. “Your clothes are quite interesting.”


“It is what we wear these days,” he replied looking down at the linen tunic and drawstring pants. They represented comfort and simplicity to him.


“No. It’s what you wear,” she observed. “Light.”


“Your abhorrence for the superfluous leaves you as poignant as ever.”


She gave a tiny shrug, “I try.”


“Your brother lost his child tonight,” he offered.


“She is gone but not truly gone,” she spoke cryptically. Godric had heard humans use this sentence to placate the grieving and wondered where she had picked up this modern saying. Cecily’s presence, be it temporal, was proof of this truth to him.


“How old is his child?”


“A little over a century, I think,” he replied absent-minded. “I never took an interest in her.”


“I think I was the only female ever of any interest to you.” He nodded in assent as warmth graced his otherwise ever cooled eyes.


“I miss you,” he spoke for the first time aloud.


“I never left,” she replied unimpressed.


“You never spoke before.”


She danced her fingers though the split ends of her hair before looking up at him again. “Never had something to say before.”


“What do you have to say to me?” he asked. Godric hoped by continuing to engage her she wouldn’t leave him so suddenly again.


“I already told you,” she said with her hands gripped on the desk leaning forward. “Twice.”


“You think I have changed,” Godric said as he regarded her earlier comments. “It is for the better, is it not?”


“Light does not cloak the darkness,” she whispered. “Especially your darkness. You have strayed too far.”


“You were a victim of that darkness,” he said disagreeing.


She shook her head. Her dishevelled locks flowing through the air the ends turning white with the light. “Never a victim,” she spoke with a hiss. “Eric is not a victim. Yet.”


“What of Eric?” he said thinking of his remaining child.


“Remember how I was born,” she said softly her eyes darting to the side as if there was something to see there.


“I don’t wish to,” he sighed. Regret flooded his system at the memories, no matter how hard he tried that would never leave him.


“Wishes are for the weak,” she said with an unmistakeable strength. “Remember.”


“I seek healing in a future now,” Godric frowned. “It is not of wishes but of truth.”


“Not everyone who claims to speak for a God actually does,” she warned as the light that shrouded her dissipated and Godric was left to his eternal solitude once again.


“Cecily,” he spoke once more but this time no answer was received.





A/N: I hope you all enjoyed an insight into Godric. FYI Cecily won’t be a love interest of Godric’s. There’s more to her than meets the eye but I’m not writing a Godric/OC story. There are plenty of authors who corner that market very well. Though I enjoy those stories very much to me Godric seemed somewhat asexual when we came across him in True Blood which I link to the assumed depression that plagued him. As I am rewriting from that perspective I stick with that for now.













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