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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
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- 3
- 4
Chapter 3
Peia does not get out of bed the next night. She sleeps, recovering, her physical wounds healing quickly. She has not spoken much, her other wounds left undescribed. Eric has no incentive to rush her. She is home. That is all he cares about for now. On the second night, he is summoned by Bill to discuss the interloper who escaped his watch last week. He posts a guard to ensure Peia’s safety before leaving her alone in his apartment.
The details of the meeting between himself and Bill (and of course, Sookie) are unimportant. Eric is obliging in an effort to keep his time commitment short. He and Bill agree to call a meeting of the Louisiana sheriffs to compare notes next week. The AVL (via Nan) seems particularly concerned with the situation, suspecting the man works for one of the more powerful monarchs out west. There have been some murmurings of discontent with the ouster of the old monarchs and installment of the new and there is always the possibility of a power-grab as surrounding monarchs may attempt to take advantage of the current instability.
Leaving the meeting, Sookie feels compelled to comment on Eric’s improved mood.
“I almost thought I might have seen you smile in there.”
“Unlikely.”
“Ok, maybe not a smile exactly, but definitely a far cry from your usual scowl.”
“You are confusing me with Bill. He scowls. And smiles. I stick to the middle ground of mildly irritated or vaguely bemused.”
“See, you are talking to me instead of just sulking. That’s an improvement. And you got your hair cut.”
“I do not sulk either. You pay way too much attention to the people around you.”
“I’m a waitress. It’s part of the job.”
Eric is about to take off, ending the conversation, but hesitates a moment.
“How often do humans need to eat?”
“What?”
“How often do you eat? I cannot recall such details.” He repeats, irritated that she did not answer him the first time.
“Depends. Three times a day. Plus snacks. Why?”
He thinks for a minute, then moves to pull out his wallet.
“You need to bring some human food to my house.”
“I don’t need to do anything. I’ve got to get back to work and finish my shift.”
“Are you not a waitress? Is it not your job to bring food?” He enjoys winding her up a bit.
“Psh. Well, yeah. But not to you. I mean, not to your house.”
“Come after your shift.” Handing her a card from his wallet. “Here is my address.”
“Do you ever ask for anything nicely?”
He simply pulls out a few $100 bills from his wallet.
“I’ll give you $300. You can keep the change.”
“This isn’t for one of your stripper “friends”, is it? And why can’t she get her own food? Oh my God, is she tied up in your basement? Ech.” She looks disgusted, remembering the last time he walked in on him in the basement of Fangtasia.
“She is not a stripper.”
“Why don’t you get Ginger to do it?”
“I am not sure Ginger eats solid food. Besides, I will not return to Fangtasia tonight.”
Sookie looks at the card. Okay, so maybe she is a little curious to see where he lives.
“This is totally out of my way.”
“Fine. $500.”
She smiles, grabbing it out of his hand.
“Be there at 2:30am. Make it something nice.”
“Whatever. Okay.”
Sookie trots off and Eric shoots up into the air, flying back to his house. He arrives, dismisses the guard and heads straight into the bedroom. Peia is half asleep. Eric sits on the edge of the bed, reaches over and touches her head. Her fever is gone, her body still healing. She turns to face him and gives a weak smile.
“You need a bath.” He states, decisively.
“Subtle.”
“Wait here.”
While he is gone, Peia inhales once or twice and shrugs. Yep, I totally smell.
He comes back in a few minutes, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom. There, a claw foot tub full of steaming, bubbly water awaits. He sets her down standing, then strips and gets in. She follows, still a bit unsteady. The water feels good. Her skin against his feels exquisite. She sits on his lap, her back to him, his arms wrapped around her shoulders at one end of the tub. After a few minutes, Eric whispers in her ear.
“I thought I felt you die.”
“I did. They tased me and my heart stopped. I don’t even know how long I was out.”
“Who are they?”
“Can I tell you another time?” She asks, genuinely. If he were to insist, she would tell him everything.
“Whenever.” He responds without sarcasm.
“I am in a bit of trouble. The one who caused all the damage? He is a sheriff in California.”
“He is not part of the they?”
“No. That’s a whole different thing.” Feeling a bit defensive, she tries to clarify.
“I didn’t go looking for it. Honestly, I just…” Her voice trails off.
“Few sheriffs would dare confront me directly.”
He is pleased to feel her body relax. She rests her head back against his shoulder. They can discuss the details another time.
Without displacing her, he reaches over the tub to get a small glass pitcher. He fills it with water and begins to pour it over her hair. She closes her eyes as the water seeps through to her scalp and down her neck. Next he slowly and methodically massages some shampoo into her mid-length hair. The rhythmic touch of his fingers on her scalp nearly puts her to sleep. She feels like she is floating. Safe.
Suddenly, a noise jolts her. A doorbell. Before she registers what that means, Eric has slipped out from underneath her and is hastily putting on a robe while walking out the door of the bathroom. She sinks back into the water, which now feels uncomfortably hot and oddly stifling.
Eric reaches the door just as Sookie is ringing the bell a second time. He opens the door a few inches to find Sookie gawking at the foyer, looking as perky as ever. Seeing him, she lifts up the bag and gives it a bit of a wave.
“Got your food.”
“Thank you.”
He reaches for the bag but she has since stepped back.
“You know how hard it is to find decent food in the middle of the night in this town? I had to call, like, ten different places to even get someone on the phone. I literally had to beg the nice Thai lady at Penang Chaou to let me put an order in.”
“Could you not have just asked Lafayette to prepare something?”
“I guess. But the way you said “something nice” made me think you weren’t lookin’ for southern cooking. Or fried food. In my book “something nice” usually involves vegetables. Or least sauce that isn’t made from chicken drippins! Guess maybe I was reading more into that than I should have, but now done is done. Thai!”
He shakes his head at her chattiness and grabs the bag. She does not let go immediately, obviously trying to peer inside the door. Just as he gets the bag from her and is pushing the door closed, a voice from behind.
“Eric, you got me food?” Peia asks, genuinely surprised. She walks forward and takes the bag from him looking pleased. There is a small table near the door, which she heads towards.
“Peia?”, Sookie blurts, surprised. “I didn’t know you were back in town!”
She pushes her way through the door, completely ignoring Eric’s glare.
“Sookie, right?”, Peia responds quietly as she sits in a chair by the table and starts unpacking the bag.
“Yes. Oh my god, I have to call Jessica. She will be so excited. We just loved your latest. Do you need us to do another fundraiser? ‘Cause we could totally do that again. You’ve got fans here, for sure. Especially now.”
She puts her hands to her chest before continuing.
“Oh, and the story. Just wonderful. It made my cry so hard I almost burst a blood vessel in my eye. It was like a tissue box exploded in my house!”
Peia smiles and lets out a little laugh, before saying dryly “Is that right?”
Sensing Peia’s skepticism, “What?”
“I appreciate the kind words, but honestly you seem like the type who cries at Hallmark commercials.”
She responds, defensively “Sometimes they are very sad.”
Peia starts eagerly dishing out food.
Eric offers, “Pam cried.”
Both Sookie and Peia together, “What?”
“She did not.” Peia retorts, skeptical.
Eric shrugs. “I found her hunched over the computer in the office one night, your story on the screen. She claimed she had something in her eye, but that does not really happen to vampires.”
“Wow.” Sookie remarks as she furrows her brow, trying to figure out what event could make Pam emotional.
“I think I may have to re-evaluate my writing skills.”
“Mad skills if you can get Pam to cry.”
Sookie and Peia exchange a look. Surely Pam cried at a part of the story that was not meant to evoke tears. Puzzling.
“Do not tell her I told you. She would make my life hell.”
They nod in agreement. Peia looks back to the food and starts shoveling it in.
After a moment, Sookie truly takes in the scene. Eric is in a robe, quite obviously naked underneath. Peia is in just a shirt – one of his, her hair only towel dry. Her limbs still mildly discolored from bruising.
“Wait a minute. What are you doing here with Eric?”
Peia slows her chewing, trying hard not to appear flustered by the question.
Sookie is immediately hit with a wall of emotion – it feels like someone has punched her hard in the stomach. She subtly grabs hold of the door to stabilize herself, confused for just a moment about the source. Until she hears the frantic refrain, Please don’t ask about Spike. Please don’t ask about Spike. The thoughts slice through the barriers she works hard to maintain to prevent the constant barrage. She tries to reconcile the intensity of the emotion with the calm woman sitting before her and sees only a tiny tremor in the hand resting passively on the table.
“Just visiting”, Peia responds in as neutral a tone as she can manage.
Still curious, but feeling a twinge of pity, Sookie decides to hold her tongue. At least until Peia is alone.
Eric, easily reading the change in Sookie’s countenance and interpreting what it must mean, starts herding her toward the door.
“Is it not past your bedtime?”
“Uh, I guess.” She does not move, still a bit flustered and unsure.
“Thank you for bringing food.” Eric states with finality.
“Yeah, sure, no problem.”
He practically pushes her through the doorway. As he is closing the door on her back, she turns her head slightly and says,
“Stop by Merlott’s whenever you want. Jessica and I are both there most nights.”
Peia smiles weakly, but does not respond.
Eric returns to the table, crinkling up his nose at the strong odor of the food. Peia takes a few more bites, but her appetite has gone. Somehow, having a witness makes the situation too final. She is not sure.
“I’m tired. I’d like to go back to bed now.”
Eric nods. She attempts a genuine smile in his direction as she slowly pulls herself up from the chair.
“I’ll be better soon,” she says, failing to sound sure.
“Soon.” He repeats.
She nods and leaves the room. He finds a plastic bag, places the tubs of food in, ties it up and tosses it out the door.
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That's Not My Name