A/N: This little outtake was written in response to a blog post about emotional abuse in fanfiction. Abuse of any form is a serious subject matter and while I can appreciate what I imagine the blogger's overall intent was, an excerpt of Chapter 49 from this story was included and, in my opinion, taken completely out of context. Opinions are like assholes; everyone has one and they are entitled to theirs. Instead of inciting a flame war I decided to let Pam and Sookie clear the air on their own. It has no bearing on the actual story whatsoever so feel free to skip it.

DISCLAIMER: Charlaine Harris owns them all and since no one asked what I was thinking at the time, I thought I'd let you know just the same.

AI Outtake – Pam and Sookie Clear the Air

SPOV

Where am I?

I didn't recognize my surroundings at all, but had a sense that I'd been there before.

For fuck's sake…do I have amnesia too?

All around me were scenes from the last seven weeks of my life interrupted with the mundane tasks of someone else's life. Laundry, working in some sort of office environment, and cleaning up stains from the carpet seemed to be a prevalent theme.

A blushing man appeared within the office that looked vaguely familiar and when he uttered the phrase 'See you next Tuesday' I suddenly realized that he had to be the infamous OV. Fear rocketed through my body as I realized that I was in Hell; the author's brain.

"Sookie."

I heard my name called out in Pam's familiar voice and my feet moved towards the sound on their own, but my eyes were drawn to all of the different pictures of Eric as I passed them by.

He looked hot as hell in a uniform.

Maybe I could convince her to put MY Eric in one.

Seeing both Eric and Pam with fangs in their mouths seemed oddly normal and I didn't question it, instead calling out, "Pam?" while waving my hand in front of my face to clear the cigarette smoke clouding around me.

"Over here," she yelled back. "I'm in the back near the Duran Duran posters and the clip of Aaron Boone hitting the game winning homerun in the 2003 ALCS game when the NY Yankees beat the Red Sox. Oddly, the 2004 season seems to have been erased."

I finally found her where she said she'd be and couldn't help raising my eyebrow seeing the Menudo records piled into one corner, but felt relieved nonetheless seeing a familiar face.

"What are we doing here?" I asked hoping Pam would have a clue. I didn't want to have to spend any more time there than absolutely necessary. The collection of Autobots were taunting Harry Potter and I didn't want to be there when it turned ugly.

"We're here to clear the air," she answered with an air of contriteness that I didn't think she'd been capable of conjuring.

"About what?" I asked, adding, "And what are you sitting on?" seeing the huge overstuffed red chair covered in blue paw prints.

Looking a tad disgusted, she answered, "I believe it's called a 'Thinking Chair'. Apparently this woman mourns her children's inevitable growth and likes to recall the time when they were still little and sat inside of laundry baskets filled with stuffed animals watching something called 'Blue's Clues', but that's another story." She flipped open a yellow notebook and checked off an unseen item using a large green crayon, saying, "I'm here to apologize." Looking me squarely in the eyes she said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked as my eyes darted over to that Potter kid. He was agitatedly waving his wand in Optimus Prime's face threatening to turn him into a Matchbox.

Great. Where the fuck did Weasley get a lightsaber from?

Pam ignored the commotion and flipped through the yellow notebook until her green crayon landed on one page in particular as she said, "Here. In Chapter 49/48 I rudely barged outside onto the patio when you and Eric were 'mid-sexy time'. Apparently I acted in a 'rude' manner and since I'm human I should've known 'social etiquette'."

Hearing Pam refer to herself as human, I interrupted her saying, "You look very nice with fangs."

She rewarded me with a fang-free smile saying, "Thank you." She continued on, reading directly from her notebook, adding, "My actions were construed as me not showing the faintest ounce of remorse for embarrassing you and I continued to do so by talking about your breasts right in front you and suggesting I give you a breast exam."

"Where are you getting this nonsense from?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders in response as she replied, "A blog on emotional abuse in fanfiction. This incident was cited specifically and I had no idea I'd emotionally abused you. That certainly wasn't my intent. Please accept my sincerest apology."

I was thankful that I'd somehow managed to be seated in an identical 'Thinking Chair' because my legs would've given out from the laughter that rocked my body.

Pam didn't look amused at all and chastised me saying, "Sookie. I don't appreciate you laughing at my sincere apology. I feel like you're emotionally abusing me."

I put my hand out in the universal 'Stop' pose until I could get my breathing under control again and said, "Pam, you did not emotionally abuse me."

Her eyebrows quirked up as she argued, "Of course I did." She waved her 'Handy Dandy Notebook' in the air in front of her adding, "It says so right here!"

I managed to conjure up my own 'Handy Dandy Notebook' and flipped through the chapters asking, "Is it 49 or 48?"

Looking irritated Pam replied, "The chapter is labeled as 48, but is located in 49's slot. There was a bonus chapter written earlier that consisted of your wedding night that threw off the chapter numbers."

"Really?" I asked excitedly.

I couldn't remember that night and flipped back through the notebook looking to get a little clarity, but Pam dashed my hopes, saying, "You won't find it. She doesn't feel as though you need to know and was only included for the readers' enjoyment."

"Bitch," I mumbled under my breath at the writer. I flipped forward again until I found Chapter 49/48 and read through it quickly to refresh my memory, saying, "Maybe the problem is that this chapter was written in Eric's point of view."

Before I could say anymore, Pam interrupted, consulting her notebook again as she said, "Oh, he's mentioned here too. Apparently Eric didn't care in the least about your embarrassment and wants to 'break you of being modest' with modesty defined as 'you not being comfortable with a whole bunch of people seeing you naked.' I couldn't find any passages from Chapter 49/48 to corroborate that claim, but it's written here so it must be true."

"Oh please," I snorted. "Eric has no desire for anyone else to see me naked. Trust me."

Pam conjured a pair of black framed glasses to put on her face making her look much more scholarly as she tipped her head to look over them at me and said, "Some people might take that statement to mean that Eric is only interested in possessing you. That he means to control your every move and thought."

"Uh huh," I sighed. "It couldn't possibly mean that he loves and respects me enough to not want me flaunting what God gave me to everyone. It's not like he's from Sweden where everyone loves to be naked, or at least that's what I've read so it must be true." I waved the magazine that poofed into my hand containing an interview of an actor that looked strikingly similar to Eric. That was a pretty neat trick and I closed my eyes, putting my Thinking Chair to good use, and smiled when a Starbucks' mocha latte appeared in my hand.

I took a sip of the chocolate flavored nirvana and pet the unicorn that wandered over to my chair as Pam said, "So then tell me your thoughts on the incident."

"Well, if they'd bothered to include the rest of the chapter you can see right there that Eric didn't like you ogling my breasts. He referred to them as his BFF's and had no desire to share them with you. That would tell me that he didn't want to 'break me' of my modesty," I asserted. It was neat to be able to read his inner thoughts and snorted over him calling The Kraken his Johnny Cochran. Pam still seemed to be on the fence, so I added, "I'm sure you could take a few paragraphs from any story and, when taken out of context, spin it to mean whatever you want."

Pam closed her notebook and sat back in reflection, asking, "So you're saying that you didn't feel emotionally abused when I barged out onto the patio?"

"No Pam," I smiled reassuringly. "Embarrassed? Absolutely, but we were outside and I'm just thankful there wasn't anyone around with a telephoto lens. Even if you'd barged into our closed bedroom I wouldn't have felt emotionally abused. I'd have been angry enough to spit nails, but I honestly don't think even you would do that. And, no offense, but at the time of this incident we didn't really know each other. We were acquaintances at best with Eric as our only common link so I had no emotional connection to you to be able to feel emotionally abused by you. We weren't friends. I think since then we've grown into something like friendship, but that wasn't the case at the time, so while I certainly felt embarrassed I did not feel abused. I even snarked right back at you at the time calling you out on your behavior." I raised my eyebrow at her adding, "But you really need to learn how to use a doorbell."

Pam looked even more agitated, waving her notebook in front of her, saying, "So this is crap? I cleared my schedule to sit here in the midst of a bad 1980's flashback for nothing?"

Seeing the cast of The Breakfast Club dancing on top of their library desks, I shrugged answering, "A misunderstanding perhaps? Everyone has the right to their own opinion, but at the very least I think it would've been nice if the blogger would've asked for the writer's thoughts on the matter."

"C'est la vie, I suppose. The laundry isn't going anywhere so she can always go back to it when she's done here," she said before adding, "Do you think there's anyone else we should be apologizing to as long as we're here?"

There was probably a list a mile long, but the first one that sprung to mind was Ginger and when I said so to Pam she quirked her lips in minor protest. I gave her a knowing look and she finally huffed, saying, "Fine." Looking around the clutter surrounding us, she patted her leg and whistled, saying, "Here Ginger… Here girl..."

"Pam!" I rebuked. "That's not nice!"

She was really asking for a whole other blogument.

So there you have it. Like I said, I'm not interested in igniting any war of words or fanning flames which is why I'm not going to name the blogger or the post. Everyone is entitled to have their own opinion and I just wanted to give some insight on that particular incident since it was used. Thanks for reading!