If I Die Young

Summary: Swedish jock Eric moves to Louisiana and falls for a bubbly Sookie in his senior year at Bon Temps High… but Sookie is hiding a fatal secret. AU/AH

A/N: A short fic based on the song by The Band Perry: http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=7NJqUN9TClM

I know I said I wouldn't post anything new until after FD or TM were complete, but this wouldn't leave me alone and is 95% written. The primary version of this was a very lengthy oneshot beta'd by min guidanna stephie8869. I decided to break it up into three, maybe four chapters. I can't count how many things I messed with, so all mistakes are my fault.

As always, Eric and Sookie et all belong to CH! *hands over pristine waffle iron in penance* If you know me, you also know I can't resist an HEA… in whatever form.

Chapter 1

"If I die young bury me in satin,

Lay me down on a bed of roses,

Sink me in the river at dawn,

Send me away with the words of a love song."

Sookie's POV:

"It's ok, darlin'. It's just a little thing."

Gran held my hand tightly, doing her best to infuse me with her strength as I lay on my side, staring blankly at the grey walls of the small, acrid, room. She knew how much I hated needles, in every shape and form. I didn't even enjoy knitting and loathed sewing, because despite her constant encouragement, I couldn't focus long enough on a pattern to make anything look right… not with all the images of how I could poke out my eyes running through my brain.

I knew she was lying, anyway. Gran had always been a terrible liar, and if the shock in her eyes at whatever was behind my back wasn't proof enough that this was no "little thing", the reflection of the doctor looming over me with something that resembled a calking gun I could see in the window was a dead giveaway.

"Alright, Miss Stackhouse. Just three little pokes and we'll be all done."

There was that "little" word again. Did they all feel the need to lie to me? Regardless, Doctor Compton's voice was deep and calming, as though he did this every day. Truthfully, he probably did… but for me it was a first. I focused as best as I could on a pair of brightly colored birds perched on a thin branch just outside the window. They hopped back and forth on the bare branch and chirped as though they were fighting, but to me they looked playful. One had a beautiful shiny turquoise head, and the other a bright red chest. During their lover's spat (or so I imagined), their tiny yellow beaks pecked together a time or two, and suddenly the game was over. The pair of birds flew off into cloudless, sunny summer sky side by side.

The display reminded me of a line in Office Space, where the sad-sack employee with bottle glasses complains about having to move his desk: "…They've moved my desk four times already this year, and I used to be over by the window, and I could see the squirrels, and they were married, but then, they switched from the Swingline to the Boston stapler, but I kept my Swingline stapler because it didn't bind up as much…"

"OW!" Despite the local anesthesia, the first plunge of the needle sank into my hip just as I was about to giggle at my memory of Milton Waddams. Gran cringed at my undoubtedly painful expression, and held my hand like a vise.

The doctor behind my embarrassingly exposed bottom had a nurse standing by to rub the spot with some astringent, stinging something-or-rather.

"Alright there, Miss Stackhouse?" Doctor Compton asked solicitously.

I gritted my teeth and nodded. I would not be a coward about this. Stackhouses were made of sterner stuff. "Yes", I said quickly lest I give myself away. "Go on."

I managed not to even flinch as the second jab into my hip bone hit home. Despite the numbing medicine, it burned and ached liked the seventh layer of hell… but I kept my mouth firmly shut. My Gran looked to be in more pain than I, and I couldn't let that happen. By the time the third huge needle plunged into my marrow I felt like fainting, but instead just wished for more birds to look at. Or maybe even a Swingline stapler.

Little tears trickled from my Gran's eyes, and I knew I had failed in saving her from my ordeal… and I hated my weakness all the more.

3 Months Later

"SOOKIE!" Gran called loudly and cheerily from the kitchen. "Get up miss lazy, you and I have things to do today!"

I mumbled and rolled over, too comfortable underneath the toasty down comforter and weary to move. It was easy to tell by the angle of the sun filtering through my handmade lace curtains that it was late in the morning, if not noon. Gran had been too kind lately, letting me sleep for 12 or 15 hours at a time without interruption. Every single day I was disappointed with myself for letting yet another morning slip away, but she insisted that I needed the rest.

Try as I might, it was beyond difficult to leave the warm cocoon of my fluffy bed. My very bones felt as heavy as lead bars, and my skin felt like ice. Normally I'd soak in a hot bath for thirty or so minutes before starting my day, but as I looked at my little antique crystal clock on the night table I knew that I wouldn't have that luxury today.

12:14 pm. Lordy! I had gone to sleep at 8:00 pm last night! I felt like such a sloth and hated myself for wasting my life asleep.

"Sookie?" Gran's light footsteps were echoing on the creaky old staircase, and I didn't want her to overexert herself, so I shouted as loudly as possible. "Coming Gran!" Even at full volume I sounded like a hoarse mouse, but she heard me.

"OK dear", Gran called. "There's fresh coffee and bacon."

"Thanks, be there in a few!" I yelled again at low volume, satisfied when I heard her steps travel slowly back down the staircase.

Ample time or not, I was so cold that I was shivering, so I slipped into the shower for just enough time to let the hot water warm my bones. A chilly bottle of water was sitting on the counter which I used to guzzle down a slew of medications before dressing in my favorite sweater and jeans, both of which hung off me like tents. After a light dusting of makeup I finally made my way through a swamp of dizziness downstairs, lured unerringly by the promise of coffee and bacon.

When I shuffled in, the kitchen was stuffed full of delectable food laid out on every surface. Trays of cakes and pies, cupcakes and croissants, casseroles and soups and fried chicken adorned every inch of the worn countertops. Tasty as they were, as I knew from long experience of Gran's fabulous cooking, the combined scents swirling through the kitchen nearly made me retch.

I held my tummy and staggered to the table as normally as possible. "There you are dear! Why, don't you look beautiful today?" Gran set a steaming plate of soft boiled eggs, bacon and toast on the only slip of available table-space and brought me a cup of coffee.

"Thanks Gran." I smiled tiredly and set about shoveling as much food in my mouth as I could before the usual nausea really set in. It pleased me that I got down an egg and a half, a few bites of toast, and a strip of bacon before I felt ill. Gran seemed to think it was as much of a victory as I did. She took my plate with a buoyant smile.

"Sookie, you ate so much! You must be feeling well today." She bustled around the kitchen as she praised my meager appetite, pulling yet more trays of cookies and pies from the oven.

"Yeah, I feel fine", I lied, hiding the inevitable gagging noise by taking a sip of coffee.

"I'm glad, darling. You need more meat on your bones, ya' know." Yes, I knew. In the past three months I had lost over thirty pounds, and I certainly wasn't on a diet. That thirty was in addition to the twenty missing pounds that lead to my doctor's initial concern. While I was glad to be losing weight rather than gaining it, going from a size 10 to a size 4 in four months wasn't natural. Every single stitch of clothing I owned hung off of me, even though I'd now resorted to wearing items I purchased in middle school. We didn't have the resources to buy me new clothes, and as I couldn't work I just constantly looked… sick.

I covered up the purple shadows below my eyes with makeup, used products on my hair to make it bouncy and golden instead of straw-like and lank. Eye drops and teeth whiteners and tanning lotions… all just to look normal for my last year of high school. It was tougher to conceal the random black and blue bruises peppered across my skin, but I seemed to be pulling it off.

"Sookie, can you help me with the muffins for the pot luck?"

Oh, right. The potluck. That explains the multitude of food. Suddenly, the amount of smells were too much and my stomach revolted. The blasted thing turned on me like a gastric Machiavelli. "Sure Gran", I said as calmly as possible while I jogged toward the staircase. "Sorry, just forgot something in my room. I'll be back in a jiffy!"

I somehow managed to latch the bathroom door and heave into the toilet in one rather elegant arc of movement. Every bit of food I'd consumed came up, and I prayed to God that Gran couldn't hear my violent vomiting. Coughing as quietly as possible, I cleaned off my face, brushed my teeth, and fixed my makeup before returning to the kitchen. My smile must have been off, because Gran didn't smile back. She simply stared at me like I was on death's doorstep, her oven mitts suspended in midair.

The door creaked, letting in a sliver of sunshine that made my eyes cringe. Jason walked in through the back door and took one look at me. "Holy hell, Sook! Did you see a ghost?"

I caught my reflection in the shiny surface of the range hood. Despite my best efforts, I was as white as a sheet and sweating buckets. Before I knew another thing, my eyes rolled up into nothingness and I crumpled to the kitchen floor like my body was melting jelly in a furnace.

When I awoke, I was again in a horrible flowered gown and ensconced in a ghastly hospital bed at Shreveport Community Hospital. Gran and Jason were looking down at me with troubled and watery eyes, each grasping one of my hands and leaning over me.

"Oh, come on ya'll. I'm not dyin' today, so don't fret so dang much!" I meant it to come out snarky and sassy, but my words were a barely a stern, raspy whisper in the grim, beige room. Jason seemed to appreciate my humor and slapped me gently on the shoulder.

""Course you're not, sis! You just passed out. It's a normal woman's reaction when I show up."

I coughed and rolled my eyes. "Ew! You're my brother, Jas. Not to mention the fact that you're a damn idiot!" Idiot or not, he made me laugh.

"I'll have you know that I am the star quarterback, missy!"

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen the posters. But do you think you can hold on to it?" I taunted knowingly.

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout Sook?"

Gran, who had kept a tight hold on my hand this whole time, swatted Jason but good. "Language, mister!"

"Yes, ma'am." Jason rubbed his arm absently while reforming his inquiry. "So… erm, what are you talking about, Sookie?" Gram nodded her approval, which I found infinitely hilarious.

"Haven't you seen the new guy? Big kid from Sweden? He moved in the other week with his mom, and Meels and Tara told me he's been quite good at touch this summer as QB."

I knew Jas had been to the games while I was either resting or in treatment, and what I knew of the new guy was based off of hearsay. Bringing the new kid up was a part of my endless attempt to annoy my brother, and I'd just dared him to deny the fact that he could potentially be challenged for QB #1.

My brother puffed up like a peacock, skittish as a wild hare. "Yeah, I've seen him. His name is Eric, and he isn't as good as me by a mile!"

"Uh huh. Sure, Jas." I gave him a sweet smile to let him know that it was all in fun, just as a nurse injected my IV with something new. Floating on a cloud of happiness and feeling absolutely no pain, I kissed Gran's weathered hand, waved at Jason, and drifted away into nothingness.

2 Days Later

When I groggily cracked my eyes open, my retinas were assaulted by piercing, bright sunlight.

"Ready to go home, darling?" Gran looked a bit ragged, and I knew that she had been at my bedside for however long I'd been in it.

"The potluck?" My voice sounded like gravel drawn across a harp.

"Mrs. Fortenberry took care of it. We weren't missed. I hear it was lovely."

I yawned, bones aching. "That's good, Gran. I'm so sorry you missed it."

She grabbed my hand, gently. "Not at all, darling. I'd skip a thousand of those things for you. In fact, you gave me a good excuse to not talk to the other old biddies. I'm too young at heart for such company."

I giggled, and it felt so lovely to laugh, even if my throat felt like the Sahara. "I would love to go home, Gran. Is it ok if I have a glass of water and some clothes first?" Gran shot out of her teal plastic chair and bustled around like her butt was on fire.

"Don't stress, Gran." My hand flailed uselessly, almost without my conscious permission.

"Not at all darling!" She huffed a bit as she set a little duffle bag in the en suite bathroom, summoning an orderly to help me up and dress. I was too tired to protest about any of it.

One Month Later

"Are you sure, Sookie? You don't have to go." Gran asked solicitously as she set a steaming bowl of unflavored oatmeal before me on the table.

"Yes, of course! I'm perfectly fine, Gran." The medications had progressed well and I was less weary. The nausea was still rampant, but I could manage very bland things in adequate quantities. I was still a size four at the beginning of my senior year at Bon Temps High, but my waif-like physique only garnered compliments. I can only assume it was because of my religious tanning and conditioning regimen, because without it I appeared quite ill.

I drove my old yellow Nova to school on September 6th, feeling good and eager to start my senior year at Bon Temps High. Jason drove separately in his new black truck, emblazoned with pink and blue flames. He strutted onto campus like he owned the place, and I didn't blame him one bit.

Parking my ratty car quite a ways away from my brother's eye-catching truck, I took a minute to look at myself in the rearview mirror. I'd taken a lot of care this morning. I didn't want to just not look sick, I wanted to look hot. I surveyed myself carefully. Shiny blonde hair was perfectly curled in gentle spirals, with strategic tendrils pulled back with perfectly matched pins. Only a faint shadow of purple lingered below my eyes, which was quickly erased with a thin concealer stick.

Tugging my tight beige sweater into place, I pulled my Coach book bag (an extravagant present from Gran) out of my little car and locked it… ready to face the world… or, rather, high school.

Eric's POV:

I didn't belong here. English I understood very well, but these kids spoke in a dialect I didn't fully get. True, I had won myself a brief reputation by winning every sport's game this summer, but I wasn't totally accepted. Perhaps it was because I was new to this area, or because I am much bigger than them all, I am unsure. Are all Americans so short? I do not know.

What I do know is that I was brought to Louisiana by min mama after papa's death, and now I am forced to spend my last year of "high school" in a small, rather damp town.

The first day of school, I drove in with min corvette, which was a pretty red car. Min vackra mama had given it to me as a birthday present, and I loved the grumbling purr of the engine. I parked carefully in the gravel lot of the school, not wanting to endanger the pristine red paint, when I noticed the stares of dozens upon my vehicle.

It took but a moment's glance around the lot to realize that mine was the nicest car there. It took only a second more for me to ignore the gawkers and spot a beautiful young woman, struggling to get her bag out of a yellow, antique hunk of groaning metal.

A small crowd had amassed around my corvette when I jumped out, and I spared a few offhand comments as I made my way through. "Yes, she's a 68", "Yes, she's been restored perfectly", "Yes, she's an original redhead."

I continued shoving my way through the crowd in the lot until I was free to jog towards the blonde beauty.

A bit breathless, I said to her back: "Hej, jag är Eric Northman. Tala om för mig ditt namn?"

The beatiful girl turned. Her stunning face looked utterly confused, but kind. "I'm sorry, what?"

Oh hell! This is America! I hurried to fix my mistake. "Ah, my name is Eric. Please, tell me yours?"

Beautiful girl smiled at me, and her face miraculously made the sun shine brighter. "Nice to meetcha', Eric. I'm Sookie." A small, delicate looking hand reached out to shake mine. The action was a bit unusual, but the girl's – Sookie's – smile made the formality so endearing. I was thrilled when she kept hold of my hand and bounced with a musical giggle.

"Oh! Now where are my manners? Gran would tan my hide! Welcome to Bon Temps, Eric. I've heard about ya'! Can I show you to your first class? Do you have a schedule yet?" She was a bouyant picture of a southern belle, and for a second I couldn't speak.

It was an effort to swallow, with her so near. "Thank you, Sookie. I haven't gotten my schedule yet. Could you direct me to the office building?" I hoped that wasn't too formal sounding. The pretty pink bow of her lush and soft-looking lips were making the english hard for me... along with other things.

"Of course!" She nearly bubbled. "But oh, we have to hurry if we're going to make it there and to class before the bell!" Her little hand yanked my big body across the parking lot at a jog. A flying mantle of blonde curls whipped around and across her face as the slip of a girl led me into the unknown. I used the opportunity of her turned back to adjust the growing situation in my jeans.

"You ok back there, Eric?" The sun sparkled in her hair, and her earnest, enchanting blue eyes glowed like they were the windows to Vahalla. Her little eyelet lace skirt fluttered around a pair of shapely, tanned legs. I was mesmerized.

"Jag alskare dig", I whispered, still jogging behind her and staring.

"What?" She asked on a laugh as we slowed near a single story brick building.

"Ah, nothing. Is this it?" I recovered as best as possible from accidentally telling a complete stranger that I loved her and walked toward the glass door. It actually hurt my chest a bit when she finally let go of my hand. Sookie looked a little sad about it, too.

"Yep, that's it. Ask for Mrs. Thorton. She's a bit of a drunk, but she's nicer than Mrs. Fortenberry and won't give you any shit. I think Mrs. Fortenberry is a tad bitter towards good looking men."

Sookie slapped her hand over her mouth and turned a lovely shade of red. I couldn't help but smile widely and tease her, just a little. "You think I'm a good looking man?"

"Oh shut it, you! You know you are, now shoo!" Sookie waved her little hands at me as if to usher me into the office. I grinned at her and took a few steps forward.

"Hey", she called, "do you want me to wait? The school isn't big and they should give you a map, but I'll stay if you'd like..."

The girl was simply too wonderful and selfless, but I didn't want her to be late on my account. "That's ok, Sookie, I will find my place. Thank you for all you have done for me." I tried to pour my sincerity into that statement, but it still sounded too formal to my ears. Judging by the slight fall in Sookie's expression, she thought so as well. Damn my lack of American know-how!

"Alrighty then." She tucked a wayward lock nervously behind her ear, and I wanted nothing more than to rush over and kiss her, but I stayed put. As Sookie turned her dainty shoulders away, she seemed to take a breath and turn back. "If you want, you can sit with me at lunch? I eat with my friends at that wall over there." She pointed a finger towards a worn-looking brick planter at the edge of the large square of grass in the very heart of the school grounds.

How could I not accept any request of an angel? "I'll be there."

Her ethereal face brightened, and she was back to bubbling. "Great! See you at at lunch then. Laters!" Sookie waved and I watched her skirt bounce down the hallway.

Sookie's POV:

I leaned against the half-wall where I lived in BTH, straightening my clingy sweater and tugging at my floral, flouncy skirt. I smoothed my hair to make sure my curls were still intact as sneakily as I could. My ex Alcide eyes almost burned a hole in my clevage, so I made an effort to close the gasping buttons of my straining sweater while still searching the quad for Eric.

The minutes stretched on like hours while I nibbled on a plain bagel slathered with a packet of cream cheese. I had indicated my lunch-spot clearly, hadn't I? Perhaps I hadn't... My musings were brought short when Alcide's red football jersey, and his wide chest, impared my vision and invaded my personal space.

Alcide was Jason's preferred running back, and he certainly did a good job of it.

"Hi there, beautiful." He nearly leered at me.

"Hello, Alc", I said, entirely distraced as I scanned the quad.

The obviousness of my wandering gaze was made clear when Alcide leaned down to whisper in my ear: "Whatever you're looking for Sook, you'll find it right here."

The boy was hansome and huge, bulging with muscle and finesse, but I knew trouble when I saw it. I glanced across the vast square of grass that was the quad at the practicing horde of uppity cheerleaders, led by a scowling Debbie Pelt. Her expression was venomuus, full of hate, and directed at yours truly. I decided right then and there that I didn't want anything do to with either of them.

A wave of nasuea attacked me just then. The bland bagel and cream cheese Gran had packed for my lunch suddently turned on me. I could litterally feel my face turning green, but I gathered my wits quickly, along with my bag.

"I appreciate it, Alcide, but I'm just fine." I smiled politely and excused myself to the ladies room... just in time to evacuate my stomach in in a violent fashion that did not have anything to do with my turbulent emotions.

I retched and hacked, spewing my latest meal into a rather unsavory porcelin bowl. Chewed and partially digested hunks of bagel were swirling down the drain when I felt a hand lightly stroking my back.

"Either you need a new doctor or a good damn fuck." The husky female voice was unfamiliar, but thin, pale fingers provided me with a wad of the scrathy brown towels provided in the school bathroom. I cleaned myself as best as I could.

"Have some water." The serious voice said, handing me a cold bottle of Figi. Fancy.

"Thanks", I muttered and chugged. After I was done, I raised myself a bit from the disgusting highschool-bathroom floor to see a beautiful wave of blond hair. I was too sick to see my rescuer's face, but I managed to choke:

"What's your name?"

"Pam."

"Pam who?"

"Just Pam."

Okie dokie then...

"You all right, Blondie?"

I staggered a bit to get up. "Yes. Thank you, *Just* Pam."

Before I could turn and look at the true identity of my blond rescuer, I heard the quick staccato of high heels... and she was gone.