True Blood fic: For You (pg-13)
Title: For You
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 700
Beta: none
Character: Bill Compton
Summary: "Everything since that night, my love, I’ve done for you."
Author's note: This is my last fic for trueblood_las - I got voted out. :( Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted - I made it to round 6. This was for the prompt "Everything I do, I do it for you." I dunno. Too much purple prose, maybe? It's Bill, for crying out loud. The man's a little on the archaic side. :P
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Sluggish tears crept down his cheeks, inexorable as the march of time, blackish red as the now dead blood that once flowed through his veins. Still reeling from the cognitive dissonance of Lorena’s final death, Sookie’s renunciation of him had Bill stumbling over and over as he made his way through the graveyard between their houses. If I’m not careful, he thought, I might break a leg. Even as he had the ridiculous thought, he barked his shin painfully on a headstone, which only made him laugh at the irony. The bitter sound accompanied by his crashing footsteps forced some small creature from its hiding place, sent it running for a safer haven.
Finally, Bill stopped running. He straightened, allowing the warm night breezes to wash over him, wishing they had the power to wash him clean of all he had done. The distant songs of the crickets and frogs along his path through the woods began again as the fear of his recent passage faded. He dashed the tears from his eyes and blinked to clear his vision of the ruddy haze that remained.
He stood before a small plot of earth surrounded by a low wrought iron fence. The fence, he knew, was only there to keep small animals from the bones that were buried within; he could have easily stepped over it. Instead, he circled to the north side of the plot and entered through the gate; its well-oiled hinges made no sound as he pushed through.
A crash from the trees behind him startled Bill and he whirled, wondering briefly if it was Eric, the architect of his current circumstance, come to gloat. But it was only a dead branch, what used to be called a “widow maker” when he was alive; he might have to check Google to find out if that was still the case.
Kneeling in front of the largest headstone, he brushed his fingers lightly over the name carved there. “Caroline, my dear, I never loved you as you deserved,” he whispered. With a sigh, Bill shifted until he sat on the cool ground, his back to his long-dead wife’s headstone. “She will never forgive me, I fear,” he observed softly, tone morose. He did not refer to Caroline.
Caroline, of course, did not answer, but still, he felt comforted. She had always been his friend and confidante, before Lorena had taken that from him; that friendship had been the basis of their marriage. He felt that she would understand how he felt about Sookie, had she truly been there for him to speak to.
Still whispering, which was somehow appropriate for the setting, Bill poured out his heart to the Caroline of his memories as the summer breeze played with his hair - he would have to ask Jessica to cut it for him - and dried the tears on his cheeks to rusty flakes. He told her of Queen Sophie-Anne’s order that he seek out her lover’s telepathic cousin, befriend her, make her trust him, and of how he had reluctantly followed those orders.
“But when I met her, Caro, everything changed.” Leaning back against the headstone, he closed his eyes, listened for a moment to the gentle sounds of the woodland cemetery. “Everything changed,” he repeated.
Sookie was so much more than just a telepath, a tool to be added to the queen’s collection. She was vibrant and full of life and sunshine. His Sookie, he quickly learned, was afraid of nothing under the sun. Or under the moon, for that matter.
He followed Sophie-Anne’s orders, yes. Bill bound Sookie to him as tightly and as quickly as he could, but in the process, he was no less bound.
Quite simply, he fell in love.
“Oh, Sookie.” He opened his eyes, gazed upward through the dark canopy of leaves overhead. He fixed his attention on the bright orb of the moon, pale sister to Sookie’s burning sun. “Everything since that night, my love, I’ve done for you.” Even his poor, dear Jessica was the result of his love for Sookie Stackhouse.
“Dear God,” he prayed to a deity who had forsaken him more than a century before, “help me to make this right.”
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 700
Beta: none
Character: Bill Compton
Summary: "Everything since that night, my love, I’ve done for you."
Author's note: This is my last fic for trueblood_las - I got voted out. :( Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted - I made it to round 6. This was for the prompt "Everything I do, I do it for you." I dunno. Too much purple prose, maybe? It's Bill, for crying out loud. The man's a little on the archaic side. :P
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Sluggish tears crept down his cheeks, inexorable as the march of time, blackish red as the now dead blood that once flowed through his veins. Still reeling from the cognitive dissonance of Lorena’s final death, Sookie’s renunciation of him had Bill stumbling over and over as he made his way through the graveyard between their houses. If I’m not careful, he thought, I might break a leg. Even as he had the ridiculous thought, he barked his shin painfully on a headstone, which only made him laugh at the irony. The bitter sound accompanied by his crashing footsteps forced some small creature from its hiding place, sent it running for a safer haven.
Finally, Bill stopped running. He straightened, allowing the warm night breezes to wash over him, wishing they had the power to wash him clean of all he had done. The distant songs of the crickets and frogs along his path through the woods began again as the fear of his recent passage faded. He dashed the tears from his eyes and blinked to clear his vision of the ruddy haze that remained.
He stood before a small plot of earth surrounded by a low wrought iron fence. The fence, he knew, was only there to keep small animals from the bones that were buried within; he could have easily stepped over it. Instead, he circled to the north side of the plot and entered through the gate; its well-oiled hinges made no sound as he pushed through.
A crash from the trees behind him startled Bill and he whirled, wondering briefly if it was Eric, the architect of his current circumstance, come to gloat. But it was only a dead branch, what used to be called a “widow maker” when he was alive; he might have to check Google to find out if that was still the case.
Kneeling in front of the largest headstone, he brushed his fingers lightly over the name carved there. “Caroline, my dear, I never loved you as you deserved,” he whispered. With a sigh, Bill shifted until he sat on the cool ground, his back to his long-dead wife’s headstone. “She will never forgive me, I fear,” he observed softly, tone morose. He did not refer to Caroline.
Caroline, of course, did not answer, but still, he felt comforted. She had always been his friend and confidante, before Lorena had taken that from him; that friendship had been the basis of their marriage. He felt that she would understand how he felt about Sookie, had she truly been there for him to speak to.
Still whispering, which was somehow appropriate for the setting, Bill poured out his heart to the Caroline of his memories as the summer breeze played with his hair - he would have to ask Jessica to cut it for him - and dried the tears on his cheeks to rusty flakes. He told her of Queen Sophie-Anne’s order that he seek out her lover’s telepathic cousin, befriend her, make her trust him, and of how he had reluctantly followed those orders.
“But when I met her, Caro, everything changed.” Leaning back against the headstone, he closed his eyes, listened for a moment to the gentle sounds of the woodland cemetery. “Everything changed,” he repeated.
Sookie was so much more than just a telepath, a tool to be added to the queen’s collection. She was vibrant and full of life and sunshine. His Sookie, he quickly learned, was afraid of nothing under the sun. Or under the moon, for that matter.
He followed Sophie-Anne’s orders, yes. Bill bound Sookie to him as tightly and as quickly as he could, but in the process, he was no less bound.
Quite simply, he fell in love.
“Oh, Sookie.” He opened his eyes, gazed upward through the dark canopy of leaves overhead. He fixed his attention on the bright orb of the moon, pale sister to Sookie’s burning sun. “Everything since that night, my love, I’ve done for you.” Even his poor, dear Jessica was the result of his love for Sookie Stackhouse.
“Dear God,” he prayed to a deity who had forsaken him more than a century before, “help me to make this right.”