InsaneJournal

Who: Eric Northman and Godric
What: Meeting to talk.
When: After this.
Where: Eric's Mansion
Rating/Warnings: PG
Status: Completed


Godric never liked the digital devices that were developed in the more recent years. They encouraged a detachment of humanity from one another, and while as a hunter that could only be considered a good thing, his mind steadily moved away from its predatory intentions decades ago. Now he only saw the sadness in such disconnect, and he did not mind communicating on it, but it seemed foolish when Eric was nearby. Like blood, Godric required very little sleep. He filled his daytime hours with deep meditation or occasionally watching the television. It gave a very good sense of where humanity was at in any given time, and he was consistently amused by their idea of entertainment. There was so much worth in humanity; it was such a shame that it took so long for his kind to see it.

After requested Eric's presence, he set aside the Blackberry and uncrossed his legs, rising from where he sat peacefully on the floor. His child was thoughtful enough to bring garments that suited him, after so long together Eric did know his taste and size, and the ancient vampire clasped hands behind his back. Dressed all in white, Godric appeared to be nothing more than a pretty teenage boy, but one look in those blue eyes could usually shake even the most unobservant of mortals. They sensed it on some level, his age and power, but he did not require the taste of fear anymore.

In contrast, Eric seemed to thrive by adopting the latest technologies to suit his own whims. He'd tossed the computer that had come from Zenner, upgrading it to top-of-the-line machine; the Blackberry was always with him, so that he could text or browse the web, whatever he felt like doing at the moment. He even dressed the part: sharp businessman when he had to be, but more often comfortable in jeans and tees. Having witnessed so many of their kind driven to suicide by an inability to adapt, Eric was determined not to be one of them.

He'd been poking around the forums when Godric made his request, and while their relationship was such that he could have -- and sometimes even had -- said no, he saw no reason to put it off. It was just a matter of closing the computer and heading from his room on the lower levels to the one Godric had taken for his own. Knocking was pointless, but he did it anyway.

The knock made Godric smile. Eric's deference was not truly required, but it was a product of the respect and love between them. "Come in, child." On the outside, the former sheriff seemed as calm and complacent as ever. Very little appeared to bother him. Yet it was not that simple, especially since waking up here meant he could not have his long awaited rest. The last time he saw his Viking child, Eric was begging him not to die. That was not an easy thing for either of them to forget, nor, in Eric's case, to forgive.

One didn't easily forgive suicide, nor the pain that came along with it. Losing Godric in battle, or, worse, to the Fellowship, would have been painful, there was no question about that. In the case of the latter, there wouldn't have been anyone alive -- human or vampire -- who could have stopped him from tearing through the Fellowship in a way that would have proven all of their beliefs right, but at least none of that pain or anger would have been directed at Godric.

Eric could claim he understood, but he didn't, not really.

He eased open the door, stepping inside. Like the rest of the house, the room was done tastefully: plush furniture, heavy blinds not unlike those at the Hotel Carmilla, and top of the line electronics. Bookshelves lined one wall, loaded with everything from biographies to science fiction. If one had to be trapped inside during the day, they couldn't do much better than what Eric had done with the place, that was for sure.

"You asked to see me?"

Godric knew Eric could not understand, and he did not blame him for it. His child was still so engrossed with the moving world, and so alive - as alive as vampires can get. Eric was a warrior first and foremost from even before he was changed, and because of that he had a survival instinct which beat away anything else. It was immortality he sought from Godric's kiss, and life that he loved. And Godric indulged that part of him, encouraged him in the thoughts of vampire superiority and the thrill of the hunt. As he said ... he was young then too.

He felt the need to explain, perhaps it would be soothing, but there was no way to force understanding upon another. Nor would he want to. Godric enjoyed reading and finding quiet things to do by himself, so the house suited him well.

"I did. You understand that we are connected, yes?" It usually meant that Godric read Eric far better than the other way around, but that was the product of age and power. Still, his son-brother-father was exceptionally perceptive as well. He'd known what was coming after the Fellowship, even if he tried to deny it.

There was no need for a verbal response. Eric merely inclined his head, permission for Godric to continue with whatever he was trying to say.

"I have acknowledged you are different since coming here." And not in a negative or positive way, since one could rarely tell with Godric's dry tone which he thought. Usually he would either say so, gently, or the other person had to ask. "I sense you went through personal strife, and it concerns me."

Eric couldn't help the vague twitch at the corner of his mouth, something resembling a smile. Or maybe a grimace. "Your concern is noted," he replied. Some hint to his tone indicated that the thought he chose not to add on was something along the lines of 'you threw away the right to be concerned.' He wasn't disrespectful enough to say that out loud, not to Godric, but he could think it, the sting of old grief.

Godric tilted his head to the side and gave Eric a look. It was somewhere between intensely expectant and gently chastening. It wasn't often Eric became a stubborn child with him, but it wasn't unheard of. "Is it absolutely necessary that I make you?" he asked quietly and with a touch of whimsical sorrow. They used to share things easily, but he maybe have burned some of that comfortable companionship with his decision.

For a fleeting moment, Eric missed the low burn of alcohol. Had they been alive, their conversation seemed the type that would have encouraged drinking, and he'd grown fond of it over the month spent in daylight. Still, no point in crying over the fact. "May I?" A wave of his hand indicated one of the chairs -- he could at least get comfortable first. "What do you want to know?"

He was relieved Eric didn't decide to flout his will on purpose. It did not happen often, but the tall vampire had his moments and Godric preferred a light hand on his child. He encouraged the bold spirit inside Eric, and he often enjoyed his sardonic wit and independent mind. Except when he had to exert any force in order to get a straight answer. Then it was distressing. "This is your home. I am a guest. You may sit where you like." Godric preferred to stand. Sitting reminded him too often of paying court, and he was no longer a sheriff. "I want to know why there are emotional scars on you since arriving here, Eric." Those other than the ones he helpfully provided by committing suicide.

"My home is yours. As it has always been." It might have been their rules -- that the maker could (and for some of them, often did) take whatever belonged to their children -- but it had never really been their way. Eric had never had cause to even think of denying Godric whatever he asked. Mostly, because he asked.

He took the chair he'd indicated, settling back. If nothing else, Zenner providing the funds had allowed him to splurge a little more than he would have under normal circumstances, and the chair, like everything else, was the best that money could buy. Quite comfortable. "I'm not sure I have any idea what you're talking about." He wasn't playing coy -- he really had no idea.

Yes, by vampire law Godric could take whatever was Eric's, but it was never his way. He preferred equal companionship over the master/servant relationship of some sires and their children. Mutual respect made a much longer lasting connection, and he had seen how poorly others had broken apart due to resentment.

A careful look at Eric reassured him the other vampire was being honest, so he closed his eyes briefly to meditate on a response. If he could give specific details, it would be better served in their conversation. "You are dismayed about Miss Stackhouse. When you speak of her, I sense waves of discomfort and ... I am uncertain. Did she do something to upset you?" He did not think he was angry at her, for then he might be more concerned for her than for Eric, but there was something uncomfortable there he could not fully comprehend.

"She has ... confused me," Eric admitted after a moment of contemplation. "There aren't many humans I find ... value in." As Godric well knew. Eric tended toward the belief that humans were good for food, occasionally good for entertainment value, and little else. Sookie had been the first to change that view, and he'd since expanded to include a fair few others in his circle of 'friends' (though it had hardly escaped his notice that they were blonde, pretty, and more than a little mouthy, much like Sookie).

"But this girl. She isn't the Sookie that was here before."

Godric had a different opinion of humans, obviously, and yet he did not claim any of his own nor did he have extended relationships with them. He respected their race, and was grateful toward Sookie and her brother for their kindness, but he was not accustomed himself to making close ties with them. "You cared for her," he said slowly. "Did you love her?"

"Does it matter? She isn't her. She has memories of only days past your final death." That thought would have made him grind his teeth, had he been the type. It meant Sookie was so hung up on Bill -- a bastard in his own right -- that she barely tolerated his presence.

"It matters," Godric murmured and gently reached out to touch Eric's head. It was almost a benediction, but mostly just a comforting stroke against the golden strands. "I do not know the minds of others, but I would expect if it happened once it could again." That followed a line of logic that felt solid. "I asked her to care for you before I died. I sensed she had genuine affection for you even then." Perhaps not love, but it was at the least sympathy. She also seemed to understand Eric well. Eric's pretty much himself.

There were few people that Eric would have let that close, close enough for him to close his eyes and take some measure of comfort from the touch. He was silent for a long moment, before admitting, quietly, "There was to be a child." He hadn't known how to react at the time, not particularly liking children and knowing that there was no real place for a child in vampire society -- or, to be fair, for a vampire in normal human lives. But it had been theirs.

That explained a few things, for this was a level beyond simple romantic disappointments. Godric rarely showed emotion on the peaceful pale features, but a ripple of surprise appeared in his face. "A child." The reason why was quickly plucked in his brain, as Eric did mention he was human briefly before being turned back. His hand moved from the top of Eric's head to caress his cheek. "Ah, Eric." There was true sorrow for his child in blue eyes. "I am sorry. That is cruel indeed."

"I am tired of being unable to protect the ones I care for," Eric finally said, opening his eyes to look up at Godric, and yes, he was counting his maker here, too. He knew, logically, that there was little he could have done -- that Godric's orders overrode whatever he might have thought, or wanted to do -- but it had still felt like failure.

He knew that, and there was no particular way to explain otherwise. "Some things are out of your control," he said tenderly and knew that was no real comfort. "You could not protect me from my own wishes, child. I had no desire to hurt you, but it was time." Apparently they were going to discuss his meeting of the dawn. It seemed callous not to broach the topic when Eric shared the private pain of his missing would-be child. "There is no way to make you understand. When you reach my age, you may see." Godric's caress moved to Eric's chin and he lifted it, meeting their eyes squarely. "It was not for lack of love for you. You must understand that."

Eric met Godric's gaze, and there was anger in his eyes. "No. It was cowardice. Everything -- living openly with the humans, seeing them as more than a meal, that was your dream. And the moment it's started, the moment you realized it wasn't as easy as just doing it, you chose to die rather than stand with us."

If he needed breath, he would sigh, but he allowed Eric to rage at him. It was his right, Godric did abandon him. "What I could accomplish had occurred. We were out in the public, and relations were difficult but improving. There is a time when the old must be replaced by the new." The new were still centuries old, but there was a different generation of vampires just like in humans, and his generation was fading away. Godric lost his taste for power, and with it, the urge to stay at the top. "I made a mistake with the Fellowship, and could have cost you your life, and countless others." It was on him. "I was no longer fit for leadership, because ...." he paused, because admitting this caused some pain on his part. "I began to hate our race."

"We are not the monsters that those like Lorena and Stan would have the world believe," Eric replied quietly, more for self-reassurance than Godric's benefit. Each of them may have been capable of violence, some of them (like Eric) may have even thrived on it, and they may have been the majority, but it hardly meant that the entire race was worthless. "You, of all people, should know that." Meanwhile, he was having a hard time reconciling Godric's actions with what he was saying. It seemed to him that the problem hadn't been hatred; it had been that he loved them all too much.

"I believed we can change. That we were capable of more. And perhaps we are. Perhaps you are," Godric acknowledged. "Children are supposed to surpass their parents, are they not?" He slipped away from Eric to morosely move to one of the bookcases, touching the frame of one of the books idly. "There are two parts of me, Eric. The one that hates and the one that loves. You cannot know what it is like to wait two thousand years, and see our race develop no more than the equivalent of humans going from ape to biped. To know that in many ways," he glanced over his shoulder, "I shaped what we were." As an old one, all the old ones, they had the power and the changes were minimal. Godric looked back at his past and he was ashamed now too. With the weight of the world on his small shoulders and the wisdom of hind sight, he saw what he'd done with the clear eyes of an enlightened monster. "We do not deserve to live."

"Humanity was barbaric back then. The technology has advanced, but they're no better now than they were when I was alive, and you know it." How often could they turn on the television and hear news of senseless murders, rapes. Dismemberments that would make even the oldest vampire cringe in disgust. "If we leave the others behind, to their own devices, who's to teach them the better path?" He was aware that he sounded preachy, maybe, but he knew it'd hit the right buttons, at least.

"You?" he replied with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps this Eric, the one who has changed from this ordeal. Perhaps you are the one ready to teach them the right path when you return." His son-brother-father was a powerful and intelligent figure, old enough to have the right respect, and if he had a tad more patience and a little more ambition, it would not be difficult for him to rise the higher ranks. Like any good parent, Godric's ambitions turned to Eric once his own were depleted. "You know that I am unhappy, Eric. You know that I am weary, too weary, and peace is all I desired. Can you blame me?"

"You know as well as I do that I'm happy enough in my own little corner of Louisiana," Eric replied, shrugging. It was no secret that he probably could have made a bid for his own Kingdom if he'd ever wanted it; he was a fair bit older than half of the Kings and Queens of the States, more powerful than at least that many in his own right, nevermind the ties and alliances he'd made with vampires much older and more powerful than himself. (That was just smart business right there.)

But he was happy. Mostly. Louisiana was remarkably quiet, and his Area afforded him just enough power to ensure his survival, and the safety of those vampires who'd sought him out. He had no designs on anything higher.

Breathing wasn't a necessity, but he made the effort so that he could sigh. "Does it sound foolish to say I expected you to be there for another thousand years?" After that long, no. There were few creatures alive, and fewer still locally, that could have taken Godric out if he hadn't wanted to die.

"You can not exactly comment that we must teach them a better path if you wish to stay in your own little corner of Louisiana, child." He knew what Eric really meant. He expected Godric to pave the way, to lead them all to enlightenment and a better place, while he contently watched from the sidelines. That wasn't an option any longer. He passed by Eric's chair and even ruffled his hair in a light, teasing way on his way to the other bookcase. Godric so rarely made small gestures of affection that when he did them, usually only with Eric, it meant much more. "Even if I said I changed my mind, I may not be given the option to return to our time and world. God has seen fit to return me here. For now. But back home I am dead."

It was only in the last decade or so that Godric began to consider God. He was never like the other vampires who either flouted the power or disbelieved in it, but it was not a concern of his before. When he crept deeper his desire for death, it did come up. At the end, he found an uncertain belief, and now a higher power resurrected him into Vegas. Even if Zenner took the credit, could it truly have been possible without the knowledge and permission of the Divine? He doubted it. How will he punish me? he asked Miss Stackhouse. This was how.

"It was not foolish. Why would you not expect your one constant to be there as long as you lived?"

"It was foolish," Eric repeated, answering his own question as though Godric hadn't spoken. "It was a child's foolish hope. And I am hardly a child after all this time." He was silent as he stood, and though he moved far more quickly than any human could have possibly, there was no doubt in his mind that Godric knew he was coming, knew his intentions before he settled hands on his maker's shoulders. There was some measure of comfort to draw, and be drawn, from the touch.

"You can't ask me to understand your choices, though I will respect them. There are others who have been returned to their homes, so I imagine it is only a matter of time before before one or both of us are returned. But until then, I would like to enjoy what time we have together." Because he knew it wouldn't happen again. It wasn't the same as any of their visits during the decades after they'd separated, time spent together with the knowledge that there would always be more. It made it bittersweet, but all the more poignant.

It was times like these when Eric made it easy to be soft with him. For all the boisterous or confident masks his child put on, he always did have a good heart. Loyalty, respect, and courage were the things Godric looked for when he was searching for a companion, and they were all there in Eric. He smiled and patted the hand on him. The palms were large enough to envelope his entire shoulder blade, and yet he still felt so parental. He turned to face Eric and reached up to touch his face. "You are my child," Godric said serenely, "and I am sorry if I forced you to lose any hope." In him, in the world, or even in Eric's own life. Hope was essential to weather the long years. "Yes, we do have now." He did not fear being returned, as that would most likely be to death, the embrace he wished for to begin with. "Now, let us discuss the ways we can help these humans you have become so unexpectedly fond of."