3/10 - In which everyone choses sites and the only one that surprises absolutely noone is Ginger.
Title: Say Hello To The Rest Of UsDescription: Nan becomes Tara’s maker.
Fandom: True Blood
Characters: Nan Flanagan, Tara Thornton (Eric Northan, Sookie Stackhouse, Pam Swynford de Beaufort, Ginger)
Word Count: 9680
Chapters: 3/10
Author’s Note: Spoilers up until episode 4x12
Rating: Erm, I don’t get these ratings. Let’s put it like this: If you can watch True Blood, you can read this.
03 - Politically Incorrect
Eric is greeted at the door by a frantic Ginger and the TV running in the background. He sighs, deciding to ignore her. She probably just forgot to buy the only type of Tru Blood he can stand; he’ll just have her instead, later.
“Mr. Northman, Sir…” She looks seriously frightened. Did Pam swing by and glamour her for some reason? It can’t be anything else, she couldn’t have let anyone in the house, could she? “Do you ever watch the Real Time Show? The one with Bill Maher?”
“No.” What a silly question. Maybe the glamour is finally getting to Ginger and they’ll have to put her down?
“Well, maybe you should,” he can hear Pam’s dry voice from upstairs.
Eric rushes up the stairs to the basement, where he had Ginger install Pam’s second television set, for entertainment purposes - it’s not like he could talk to her. Ginger, that is.
His progeny is sitting on the couch, legs crossed, arms crossed and an impression on her face that can only indicate one person - but that can’t be, can it? “Guess who’s a special guest tonight?”
“What Democratic congressmen do to their women staffers, Republican congressmen do to the country,” the TV show host drones on in the background. “The next member of tonight’s panel wants to convince you that it’s time to vote for independent candidates, which is very convenient, since she is one of these candidates…”
“There’s no way they hired her back,” Eric reassures himself, because Pam doesn’t even seem to be listening. She just points the remote at the TV and pushes up the volume.
“Worse.”
“Please welcome the future Senator of Maryland and friend of the show…”
“What…?”
“Keep watching,” Pam mutters darkly. She’s gotten a new manicure since he last saw her. It’s flashy, it’s sexy and it looks like she got it today, together with what looks like brand new shoes. Yet she’s grim and here, instead of staying at Fangtasia, which should be open in… well, right now.
“… Nan Flanagan. Ms. Flanagan, it’s a pleasure to have you back!”
“Pleasure to be back, Bill.”
“What the fuck?” Eric feels like he’s losing ground, which is not a feeling he ever encountered as a vampire. Well, maybe the time Pam was held captive, but…
“The AVL didn’t take her back. But it looks like someone did.” She lifts an eyebrow, when Ginger appears in the doorway. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Why aren’t both of you?” Eric redirects the question at Pam.
“Pam thought you needed to see this,” Ginger answers on Pam’s behalf, smiling eagerly, while the television drones on in the background. “I warmed you up a Tru Blood. They were out of A positive. Hey, isn’t that…?”
“A fucking problem? Yes, it is.” Pam shuts off the TV and approaches Eric, a deeply worried look on her face. “Did you hear something? Is the authority - have they ever hired someone back?”
Eric sighs. “They never fired someone before. If they’d be done with her, she’d be dead. Sadly, it looks like they’ve just given her a slap on the wrist. Someone on the top has a thing for her.”
“Her maker?” Pam guesses.
“Could be. Bill says, she’s never disclosed who turned her.” Eric takes the TruBlood from Ginger and the remote from Pam. “I’ll call around, see what I can find out. You two, get out of here. Fangtasia isn’t running itself, and I’m in Egypt, remember?”
“I thought you were still in Angola?” Pam interjects confused.
“Good. That’s as much as you’re supposed to know.” He checks his phone. It’s not the same as his old one, the one that he can’t use because they have his number, because they could trace any call, the second he’d put it on. This piece of crap does nothing but text and call, and the sound quality is an insult to modern technology. “Ginger, dear, why don’t you take Pam with you? If anyone asks, you’re late because you were shopping. Now, go. I have to make a few calls.”
“You’ll tell me, if there’s any news?” There is a certain insecurity in Pam’s eyes, the same expression that keeps surfacing ever since their last big fight. Will he tell me when he leaves, or will he just take Sookie with him and disappear? It’s insanity, and Eric would tell her as much, but it’s this fear that keeps Pam in line, keeps her doing exactly what he tells her to do. In other words, it keeps her safe, and as long as she is out of harms way, that’s all that counts. The ends always justify the means.
“I’ll let you know the usual way.” He takes the TruBlood from Ginger and watches them leave. He relaxes when the car motor starts and slowly fades into the distance. Now he can think… The minutes pass, and he’s none the wiser. He has his contacts, but what would they know about this? Probably nothing, or they would have told him about this already. Yes… how come, no one mentioned this before? This is national news, damnit!
He switches the TV back on. Maybe seeing her will give him some clue. But nothing’s changed. She’s all smiles and fake-personality, the same as always. TruBlood only, of course. He forces himself to swallow his drink.
“Now, now, don’t change the subject. I heard that you were friends with Martin Luther King Jr. What about that? I bet Scott Rolle can’t say that about himself.”
“I wouldn’t say I was a close friend - but yes, I was fortunate enough to meet him. Let me be clear about this: The reason that I didn’t mention this before is that I don’t think it’s an accomplishment for me to have met him. He was a great inspiration, of course. I don’t think the vampire community would be anywhere today, if it hadn’t been for Dr. King.”
Eric snorts. He remembers the 1960es, remembers how vampire used to laugh about that naïve preacher and his “dream.” How they used to predict, expect the civil rights movement to turn into a blood bath. Humans and their silly little ideas of racial superiority… he never really bothered to understand it.
“Still, it beats unsuccessfully having supported John McCain.”
“Not that that is hard to beat.” She’s too smug. Too secure. This does not look like someone who might be next on the authority’s hit list, nor does it look like someone who’s ever been in that situation. He knows it’s all an act, but maybe he underestimated how good an actress she really can be. Maybe they’re in more trouble than they know they are. He puts down the remote and reaches for his phone again.
The excited voices coming from the hallway tell Tara that it’s over. She sinks deeper into the make-up chair and pretends to keep reading, as the door to the dressing room opens.
“No, honestly, you were fantastic! Wasn’t she fantastic?” Holly Stevens and her catch phrase. She has this whole All-American, white college cheerleader act down, from her long legs in a respectable skirt, to the shiny brunette hair that she likes to correct when she believes no one is watching. Right now her eyes are shining and her heart is pounding like she’s on speed.
Tara barely gives her a look. You’ve seen Holly once, and you’ve seen all of her. And all cheerleaders of Montgomery Community College, that is.
Nan pays both of them zero attention. There are no cameras around, so why smile once in a while? She just checks her messages on her phone, while waiting for Holly to pack up, then glowers at Tara’s book. “What are you… Put that away! I can’t be seen with someone reading that.”
“Why not?” Holly comes closer, inspecting the book cover “Palestinian Peace, Not Apartheid.” by Jimmy Carter. “Isn’t is always educational to know both sides of the story?”
“It’s not electable,” Nan lectures her. It has become her favourite word, lately. Is it morally right? No, but it’s electable. Do we really need to reform healthcare? Don’t remind voters that there are two wars going on, or else they’ll start protesting when they ought to be voting! Corporations need to have rights too, you know. Is it racist? It’s politically correct, shut up.
“It’s your book,” Tara reminds her. “You said I could read any book of yours that I want. And I don’t even get why you bought this one in the first place, because apparently it’s not only boring, but also unelectable.” If anyone could kill with just her eyes, it would be Nan. Over the word ‘unelectable.’ Compared to that, Bon Temps is filled with normal, well-adjusted people.
“How can it be unelectable, it’s Jimmy Carter,” Holly interjects. “My dad read that when he was first stationed in Iraq. He said it was eye-opening for him.”
“Did he say that before or after he ran through Bagdad, shooting innocent people because they all looked like terrorists?” Tara shoots back at her. She doesn’t even know why Holly upsets her this much. Maybe it’s because her naïve, wholesome innocence reminds her of how Sookie used to be, back in High School. Maybe it’s because her submissive, always cheerful attitude is what Nan obviously compares Tara with, and prefers the cheer leader. Yet they both have to be around, and Tara has to watch some starry-eyed dumb college girl idolize her maker and pretend that she is the political icon of the 21st century. The only way Holly could make her weird political crush more obvious would be to actually lick Nan’s expensive shoes.
“Tara, shut it out. We’re pro-military.”
Tara leans back, folding her arms. “Why?”
“Because it’s a form of true patriotism.” (Holly obviously misses the sarcasm in Nan’s voice.) “Now quit being a little bitch, hide that book and come. Holly, will you call downstairs, see if the car’s ready?”
“Sure.” One last smile, a little too bright, a little too preppy and - the cheerleader is gone.
Tara puts the book in Nan’s handbag. “You know she’s totally in love with you?”
Nan rolls her eyes. “Of course I know, everyone knows.”
“Like single-white-female levels of in love.”
Nan puts on the coat she doesn’t really need and leads the way to the elevators. “How about you watch better movies, right after you stop reading the wrong books?”
“You better hope she just has a regular journal. That’s not on the internet.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nan enters the elevator Holly has been holding for them, bright and hopeful as always. “Thank you.”
“I would read the Clinton books, if they were more honest about anything,” Holly suddenly says out of nowhere. “Can you imagine how fascinating that would be? The whole scandals, the secret affairs - it’s like a political drama, but with more meat to it.”
Tara rolls her eyes at the excitement. “Yes, and then you could perfectly relate to Mon-“
“Do you want a ride, Holly?” Nan interrupts her, another fake-smile plastered on her face. “We’re staying at the SLS. If you want…”
“No, I’m just gonna - I’ll call a friend, from… from High School. That’s nice, but it’s just-“
“It’s on me,” Nan offers and Tara has the creeping suspicion that Holly might not be as deluded as she should be, for electable purposes. Nan goes into gracious-big-spender pose, while Holly stutters about her gratitude and other things Tara doesn’t give a shit about. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”
Tara is already getting tired when her phone rings. She looks at the alarm clock on her night stand.02:45, twenty-seven more minutes until the drivers bring the coffins in which they will be transported to the airport and back to D.C. She shudders at the thought. For Nan, travelling asleep in coffins means saving time. For her it’s a nightmare come true.
She checks the caller ID. At least one nice thing to happen to her tonight! “Hey, Sook. How come you’re still up?”
“Did I wake you? I didn’t get the time difference right, did I? I’m so sorry!” Sookie sounds not tired at all, which is surprising - unless she’s dating vampires and sleeping through the day again. “Listen, I know this might sound weird, but can I ask you something?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Do you know why Ms. Flanagan is running for office?”
It’s like a punch in the stomach, back when it would still have affected her. Of course Sookie isn’t calling for her! Of course there’s a reason for this unusual hour of the night - Bill or Eric must have put her up to this! “Why, who wants to know?”
“No one, I’m just… okay, Eric. But I wouldn’t ask, if it wasn’t important.”
“She’s running because she’s a workaholic feminist sociopath with fangs. She lost one job, now she’s getting another. If she wins and doesn’t screw it up by murdering the cheerleader version of Monica Lewinsky.”
“She’s murdered Monica Lewinsky?” There’s muffled voices on Sookie’s end of the line.
“From the sound of it, yes. Sadly, she’s not that stupid and I’ll have to see both of them again tomorrow night.” That should keep her busy being confused for a while. If Eric is there, on the other hand…
“But she wasn’t fired, she quit her job,” Sookie interjects, not swallowing the gossip-bait. “Did she say who put her up to this election idea? Or … maybe someone even ordered her to?”
Tara sighs. Sookie clearly won’t stop asking questions for her sake. This is all about her boyfriends, as usual. “Hand me Eric.”
“Tara…”
“If he wants answers, he can ask for them himself. Or does he need you to do that for him?”
There’s a moment of silence, then Eric Northman’s voice addresses her. “Hello, Tara.” Damn silver-tongued devil! “Would you kindly tell us what you know? Your maker has sadly failed to keep us informed lately and it would be such a shame, if we were on different sites, would it? I’m sure we can let that slip, if you just tell me…”
“Why don’t you ask Nan?” Tara interrupts him. “Oh, right, because she offered you support and you didn’t take it. Is there really anything that makes you think I would side with you over her?”
“Well, your cousin Laffayette is right here in Bon Temps…”
“Eric, give me that!” Sookie snaps in the background. “Tara, don’t listen to him, nobody’s threatening Laffayette. We’re just on egg shells over here, there’s bounty on Eric and Bill’s heads. I’m sure you understand…”
“Actually, I don’t. They brought this on themselves, Sookie. I can pass on the message, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll get you what you want. Or that Nan could help you, even if she wanted to.”
“We just want answers, that’s all.”
“Well, then you called the wrong person.” Tara ends the call and throws the phone into her open suit case. One part of Nan’s old, crazy-expensive Louis Vuitton travelling set. Another hand-me-down that ensures that she, Tara, fits in perfectly with the travelling ensemble, that she doesn’t draw any attention to herself. Do you expect me to explain a progeny to the voters? Best-case scenario, they don’t try me for murder!
Tara looks at the clock another time. 02:51. Time to get ready. She decides to ignore that, strips off her clothes, throws them into the suit case and walks into the bathroom. The large, framed mirror shows her something that has been more than strange to her lately - her. In the same way that she will look, forever. There will be no change, no grey hair, no lines on her face - something most women in LA would gladly die for. And yet… it’s not her, not the way she used to be.
The water takes minutes to become hot, and yet she barely notices. She can feel the tears dripping from her eyes, mixing with the water, running over her skin…
Until Nan’s voice makes her jump, that is. “Why are you still in the shower? We have to leave in fifteen minutes!”
Tara turns off the water, still shaking. “I’ll be right there. Just - just give me a minute to get dressed, okay?” Anything that will keep her face hidden from Nan. And she thought it was worse, back when her crazy mum used to burst into the bathroom…
She doesn’t hear a sound, and suddenly, without a warning, the soft texture of a hotel bathrobe is brushed against her skin. She can’t even comprehend where the bathrobe came from, or why Nan would be helping her into it and leading her back into the other room, helping her to sit down on the bed - it’s quickly becoming the strangest night of her life, and that’s including the one in which she came back to life after being shot into the head.
And then, to tip it all off, Nan kisses one of her feet, lightly, before slipping her shoes back on. Bizarro-land. If anyone had told her about this just a few days ago, she would have taken it as a sign to leave Bon Temps again, because obviously, it was a crazy person talking.
She wipes the tears off, looking at the back of her hand in confusion. “Why is there blood on my face?”
“You’re a vampire, there’s bound to be blood somewhere.” Nan doesn’t seem angry, not even agitated, at least not more than usual. “You know, I keep forgetting what it used to be like, being turned. It’s so long ago, I barely remember. This is why I never turned anyone - I don’t think I can relate to it anymore. And now, it’s not the same as it used to be, you know - we could just disappear of the face of the earth, learn to become vampires far away from society, and only return for blood. Now… everything is in the public eye, especially my life.” She brushes Tara’s hair out of her face. “But you have to keep in mind that there’s no real tragedy here. You haven’t only been given a second life, you’ve been given a better life! All the limited, small-mindedness of humans, all their urgency and their delusions - you’ll see it fade. We’ll watch history together, Tara, and not only that - we’ll construct it. Your old friends and their laughable little town - all this won’t exist in a century from now. It’s better to make a clean cut now, then later.”
Her hand cups Tara’s chin, lifts it, so she can see directly into her eyes. “Thank you for your loyalty. You will be rewarded, Tara.”
I have decided to introduce Nan's maker soon. I won't give away too much, but imagine her
being played by the greatest* actress on drama-television, ever. That would be this lady:
*I'm specifying on the genry of drama here, because otherwise I have to decide between Julianna and Morena Baccarin and that's just not humanly possible.