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That's Not My Name	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 6314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have not created the True Blood (credit to Charlaine Harris & Alan Ball) or BtVS universes (credit to Joss Whedon) and do not have any claim on the characters other than the ones I have added. I make no money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10
Days pass. Peia falls into a routine of sorts. She leaves the townhouse before sundown, runs in the woods, cries at the lake, returns in time to take a shower before Eric stirs. She notes exactly where along her route the uneasiness begins – is it the distance or the time? Maybe tomorrow she will ask to take the car. It always starts in the pit of her stomach, just a twinge at first. The twinge becomes a permeating mixture of anxiety and sadness that soon spreads throughout. By the time she reaches the lake, she feels heavy, as if she is running through molasses. Is it better today? Maybe a bit. Maybe she will not need to cry so long or so hard. Sometimes she swims afterwards, the cool water relieving the burning in her eyes. Once she has purged the sadness and turns to head back down the path to the woods, to the road, to the city, her thoughts turn to Eric. She wants to see him, to feel him, the same as usual and more. And yet, there has not been more. They sleep in the same bed, they bathe in the same bath. They are rarely out of each other’s sight. She comes to Fangtasia every night, wandering, watching. Even observing quietly when he conducts “vampire business” with Pam and the others. And yet, nothing has been spoken about the future, about what he might expect, about what she might be willing to give. But it is there. She knows. His patience is beyond what she had expected. He is beyond what she had expected. And yet she cannot stop her logical mind wondering how much of this is real. Can it even be real?
One night, as Eric prepares to go out, she tells him she needs to run some errands and takes a car. She drives to Merlott’s. She goes straight to the bar, orders a drink and scans the room for Jessica. She waves her over and asks if they can talk during her next break. A while later, Jessica sits down next to Peia at the bar.
“I’m so excited that you stopped by. It’s been a bit dull around here.”
“Would it be alright if I asked you some vampire questions?” Peia starts, almost sheepishly.
“Sure. I guess. What for?” Isn’t she living with a vampire?
“I am working on a new story and I realized I don’t know much about the Maker-offspring relationship,” she lies.
“But your last one had that in, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I was kind of writing out of my butt. I’d like to get a better understanding.”
“Ok. I’d love to help.”
“Your Maker is Bill?”
“Yep. King Bill, now.” She giggles.
“How would you describe your relationship with him?”
“Oh, he’s been great. Like a dad. Better than my real one, honestly. He showed me how to take care of myself and he looks out for me.”
“So you are close.”
“Sure. I can talk to him about my problems and he tries to help and all.”
“Did you ever have any romantic feelings…?”
“Oh gawd, no. He is way too old,” crinkling up her nose.
“Oh. I just kind of assumed there was usually some attraction.”
“Aw, that’s just in the movies. I mean, I’m sure it happens sometimes. You know, if there was an attraction before.”
“But the process involves drinking a lot of their blood, right? Couldn’t that affect your…er… feelings?”
“That just happens when humans drink vampire blood. Once you’re dead, which is part of the Making process, I don’t think it applies. I mean, I can honestly say I have never had a sexual thought about Bill, conscious or otherwise.”
Sookie overhears them and comes over.
“Bill was involved with his Maker for a long time, the crazy bitch. The way he tells it, it was basically expected. And then there was Russell and his boy toy – they were like ‘gay married’ for a really long time. He was pretty broken up when I put Talbot down the disposal.”
“What?” Peia asks, confused.
“Long story. Still, hard to say. I mean, Eric was totally broken up when his Maker burned up, but he was a guy and Eric is definitely not gay. And Pam is totally gay, right, so it’s not like she and Eric are a thing. Hey, is that why you are asking? Are you jealous of Pam?”
“What? No, I…”
“She’s working on a story.”
“Just gathering information.”
“Have you talked to Eric? I mean, he’s like a thousand years old so he probably knows more than us newbies about these things.”
Sookie hears Peia’s thoughts: That would be awkward. Jeez a thousand years old? He’s older than Yoda.
Sookie leans in closer to Peia to whisper, “Did you drink Eric’s blood? Because honestly, that can give you certain…thoughts.”
“Nah, I just…”
Sookie hears some scattered words/thoughts and blurts out in response as her mind races.
“You are not going to let Eric turn you into a vampire are you?”
Jessica’s eyes light up and she whispers in a gossipy tone “OMG, has he offered?”
“Jessica!” Sookie chastises.
“What? It’s not such a bad thing.” Jessica responds, defensively.
Sookie hears: As if I had a choice…
Peia, not wanting to reveal too much, decides to admit to the lesser scandal.
“Back to the fact checking, IF a human were to drink a vampire’s blood, about how long will the….er…effects last?”
Jessica looks at Sookie, expectantly. Sookie acts a bit embarrassed and a little flustered to be asked so explicitly.
“What?” She says, defensively.
Just then, Sookie hears Sam’s thoughts, who had obviously been listening in, too: a month or so.
She thinks, OMG, Sam had dreams about Bill. Ew!
“About a month. Maybe two,” Sookie responds, finally.
“Oh. Not too long, then,” Peia says, oddly relieved.
“You should talk to Pam. About the Maker thing. She knows a lot,” Jessica offers, not wanting to say what she really thinks in front of Sookie.
Peia nods, before getting up to go. “Thanks. This has been helpful.”
**
Back at the townhouse, Peia is surprised to find Eric sitting on the couch, with his feet up, looking at a magazine.
“Slow night?” She asks.
“Painful. Had to go out to eat. Did not feel like returning.” He responds, putting the magazine down.
She walks over to the “kitchen” and puts the electric kettle on. Every step away from him takes effort.
“Can I use the car again tomorrow? I’d like to get a computer.”
Eric nods without comment.
“I received some information today. Perhaps you might be interested.”
“Yeah?”
“Turn’s out, your name is not Peia.”
“That, I knew.”
“I have been aware of that fact for some time. But what I found out today is that your name is also not Jen Cotter.”
He has been digging. I wonder how far….
“Well, that may be a matter of opinion. I have used that name for a number of years.”
“Your name is Carolyn Reed.”
“Nearly. That was my married name.” She responds without emotion.
“You were in a car accident, killing your family and leaving you in a coma. Drunk driver. After 19 years and 4 months, you woke up. Inexplicably. Doctors were baffled.”
“And the rest is history. Can we be done with this now?”
“The woman who caused the accident – she petitioned to keep you on life support and paid your medical bills when your family was ready to let you go.”
“I don’t know why you went to the trouble. If you had asked, I would have told you.”
Eric continues, “She died just days after you woke up. The hospital staff reported that she had been coming to see you religiously once a week.”
“I never met her. Never spoke to her. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like. I think I know her voice, like a recurring dream. She left me a note.”
“And?”
“She was a gypsy – sorry, Roma. Lapsed, outcast. An alcoholic. After she recovered from the accident – she had been relatively unscathed – she was consumed by guilt for what she had taken from me. She said she wanted to give me another life, another chance. It took her years to find a solution – some dark magic that allowed her to transfer her life force to me, over a period of time. She aged while I grew younger. She wanted to be sure I would be young enough to start another life – have another family. So she found some magic that would make it so. She gave all she had and it worked. I woke up and she died of old age. She was not a master of such things – in her letter, she couldn’t tell me how things would progress after it was done. She knew only that at the least, I would have her life to live, maybe more.”
“So there is magic in you already.”
“Apparently.”
That is why she did not turn. Could this magic be too powerful to overcome?
“Did you ever try to find out more – to contact her sources?”
“No. I just…left. I don’t know her name. She didn’t sign the letter.” Peia pauses a moment before saying, almost under her breath, “I am living her life and I don’t even know her name.”
So he knows everything. Well, almost everything.
Peia makes herself some tea. She hates thinking about the past. It exhausts her. Sipping from the mug, she looks down at him on the couch and hears herself say,
“Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else knows.”
“What sort of thing?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Where you come from, your human family…” She is suddenly embarrassed that she has never asked him anything. She knows so little.
“I do not remember them.”
“Ok, then something else.” She shrugs, mildly annoyed by what she perceives as evasion.
“No, that is it. I do not remember them. I can hear my father’s voice as he died, telling me what to do. Only recently was I able to fulfill his wishes and since the voice has already faded. I cannot picture my mother’s face. I wonder if I would even recognize her. Even in dreams, she is always just out of reach, facing away, only her hair…” He moves his hand as if he is touching it as he says this.
“Do you want to remember?”
He shrugs. “What I want does not matter. It is this way.”
**
The next day, Eric has an errand that brings him into contact with Sookie. She cannot stop herself from asking what is going on with Peia.
“So is she staying?”
“I do not know,” Eric responds, uneasy to be discussing this with her.
“Well, did you ask her to stay?”
“She knows she is welcome to stay.”
“But did you actually say those words to her? Have you told her you want her to stay?”
“She is aware I would prefer it if she stayed.”
“How could she know if you didn’t tell her?”
“Not everything needs to be discussed.”
“Uh, hello, this is a woman we are talking about. Stop being so pig headed and tell her.”
“You know nothing of this. She is family. These things do not need to be mentioned.”
“She’s not a vampire, last I checked.”
“Neither is she a human.”
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
“I’m just saying that you should talk to her.”
“This is not one of your silly romance novels; I am not wooing her. I am not Bill.”
“Well don’t come crying to me when she hits the road, then.”
He is suddenly flustered by the idea that Peia might leave.
“She will not leave. I will not let her. She must stay. Why am I even having this conversation?”
“So you are going to keep her here, against her will. Really? How romantic <eye roll> I don’t know why I am surprised….”
“I, uh, we do not know it is against her will.” Eric is startled by the force of his reaction.
“So you would rather she wanted to stay?”
“It would be preferable if she chose to stay.”
“’It would be preferable?’ (mocking him) Gawd, you are hopeless. Do you want her to want to stay or not?”
“Perhaps. Yes. (pause) I would prefer to not have to force her to stay.”
“Alrighty, then. Now we are getting somewhere.”
“You are going to tell me how to make this happen, I suppose?” Pretending to be annoyed, but actually interested in what she might suggest.
“Make an effort. If you are too emotionally closed off to actually talk to her, then try a gesture. Do something that will make it clear you want her to feel welcome, that you are interested in the long haul.”
He takes this in. Perhaps it is not an awful idea.
“I could buy a refrigerator,” He suggests.
Sookie makes a face.
“On the right track, but a little cold. Pardon the pun.”
In the end, they settle on a full sized electric blanket. Practical, but a tad warmer. Pun intended.
**
The next night, Peia tells Eric she will meet him at Fangtasia. She would like a walk to clear her head. Once he has left, she spends some time going through her old bag – the few items she brought with her from California on that awful night. She looks at the picture that Dali left with Eric and tries to pull together a similar look, supplemented with the things she bought with Pam.
I should get Daisy to send me some things.
Daisy was a seamstress and a sometimes designer. ‘Sometimes’ because she often got bored with fashion. She had a small shop near Santa Barbara. They met at the bar where Peia worked as a bouncer after Spike left town. Daisy had come to see the band that played almost every Saturday at Hive. That same night happened to be one where Peia had to throw a vampire out of the bar for ‘disorderly conduct’. Daisy was outside having a smoke and saw the whole thing. It was one of many proper fights Peia would come to have with the local bloodsuckers. In the beginning, it was all about keeping the bar safe. Later, the vamps would come just to fight, testing her.
When it was over and the guy had scampered off, Peia was steading herself against the dumpster, feeling dizzy from the adrenaline when she heard a voice.
“Are you alright? Veronica?”
It took her a moment to realize the woman was talking to her. She looked up and saw the woman was tentatively coming towards her.
“Yeah. Fine. Just a bit shaky,” Peia replies, wiping some sweat off her forehead.
She was okay. The first time she was punched in the face by an unruly patron a few weeks prior, she was shocked by how much it did not hurt. Not like it should have. She had to stretch her memory to confirm that punches used to hurt a lot more. She had been hit in college during an impromptu ice hockey game that turned ugly – a rare occurrence in women’s hockey, but something that happened on occasion. That hurt. But now it takes considerably more. Once she realized this, everything changed.
The woman holds out a cigarette and at first Peia waves it off, but then after a brief pause, takes it. She puts it in her mouth and the women tosses her a lighter.
“Thanks,” Peia says as she lights the cigarette.
“I’m Daisy. You’re Veronica?”
“Veronica? I think you might have me confused…???”
“Oh, isn’t that just what you told that…guy?”
Peia had to think a moment – they did always seem to want to know her name. “Who are you?”, which was really code for “what are you” once she started kicking their asses, but most were too polite to go there. She had decided it would be fun to make up something different every time. This time, when this one asked, she said, “You can call me anything you like, but my name is Veronica” just because it seemed to fit the rhythm of their fight. Giving away her age a bit with that one, perhaps.
“Right. Sure, call me Veronica.” And hence yet another alias was born.
Daisy gives her a good scan as she takes a drag.
“Those clothes look a little stiff for fighting.”
“Yeah, I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m not a fan of the track suit, but jeans can be a bit restrictive.”
“Maybe I can help you out with that,” Daisy responds with a glimmer.
As it happens, Daisy thought the challenge of making clothes for a bouncer was an ideal way to spend her free time. She fancied herself dressing a modern superhero, extrapolating up significantly. Who gets to do that? So they talked. Peia told her about who and what she would need to fight. Daisy thought about how Peia should look and what kinds of clothes might provide comfort and convenient bonuses, e.g., pockets for weapons or chains. They developed a good working relationship.
*
Looking at herself in the mirror, frowning slightly, Peia says under her breath,
“It’s the best I can do now, Daisy. Hopefully no one will have a camera.”
She is wearing a deep purple, slim fitting sleeveless tee with black cargo-type pants that conform closely to her lower body, the bottom half covered by tall leather boots. A small black jacket covers her upper arms, the left of which is wrapped in a mid-sized silver chain. Her hair is loosely styled and she is wearing a touch more make-up than usual.
Peia arrives at the club an hour later, after taking a bit of a walkabout in Shreveport. She watches Pam for a moment, who is giving orders to the bartender and then nods toward Peia as she passes to take up her post at the front door. Peia scans the room – it is a busy night. She find’s Eric and walks toward him. When he sees her, she smiles coyly. She stops and stands just in front of his chair.
“Dressing the part, I see?” He observes, approvingly.
“I am here to apply for a job. I think you could use a good bouncer in this place. Someone to keep things in order.”
“Is that so?” He smiles, pleased at the implication.
“Absolutely. And today is your lucky day because I have loads of experience.”
“Aren’t you a little young and a little human to be a bouncer in a vampire club?” Eric responds, playing along.
“Yes. Yes, I am. But I have good references. And I’ll work for cheap – a place to stay and the odd sexual favor should do me just fine.”
Eric stands up, takes hold of her arm lightly and directs her as he says,
“Perhaps we should discuss the terms of our arrangement privately.”
Once they get to the office, he slips his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her tight to him. She looks him in the eye,
“God, you are so tall.”
He leans over, tilts her chin up with his hand and kisses her. After an intense few seconds, she pulls away briefly, feeling her knees weaken.
“You sure know how to take away a girl’s balance.”
“Have I not kissed you before?”
“No. I would have remembered.”
He is surprised.
“I must have thought of it. After.” And often.
They kiss again and he pulls off her jacket. As his hand reaches for her shoulders, he notices the silver chain still wrapped tightly round her bicep.
“Are you going to take that off?”
“Sorry. I just started a new job at a pretty tough vampire club,” She smirks.
Just as she is about to unravel the chain, there is a knock at the door. A man’s voice shouts,
“There’s some vamp here looking for Peia.”
“It’s probably just Dali again. I should go out and say ‘hi’. I owe her a bit of time. Then we can get out of here?”
“Or, we could stay,” Eric says as he glances back toward the little room with the bed.
She smiles her approval as she extricates herself from his arms. She leaves with a ridiculous grin on her face, feeling euphoric. Eric heads to the little room to prepare it.
Peia scans the club, looking for Dali. Instead she sees a very angry looking vampire glaring at her from across the room. It is the Sheriff from California.
“Motherfucker. Are we really going to do this now, Bruce?”
“What’s the matter? Sunrise too far off this time?”
No, I just really want to get laid, she whines to herself.
From inside the little room in the office, Eric hears a loud crash.
…
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That's Not My Name