A/N: The Westminster Bridge Terrorist Attack on London on March 22nd 2017 lasted 82 seconds and claimed the lives of five people. Many others suffered major life-changing injuries. This is inspired by those events and the BBC Documentary 'Hospital' that covered the injured treated at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington after the attack. No disrespect is meant to anyone injured or affected by the attack. Some of the words and emotions are those expressed by victims and medical staff involved in the aftermath.
As ever, How To Train Your Dragon remains the property of Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.
ACROSS THE BRIDGE.
22nd March 2017, London.
"He's unstable! Push fluids!"
"Is CT free yet?"
"Free in five!"
"Sats dropping! O2 at fifteen litres!"
"Where's that CT?"
"A-Astrid…"
The doctor looked up, seeing pained green eyes flutter, one completely bloodshot from impact, bruising almost obscuring the pained gaze.
"Take it easy, sir," he said to the victim. "Your friend…"
"Wife…Astrid…" the young man gasped. "Where…"
"You're in hospital," the doctor said, casting a worried glance at the monitor. The alarm was screaming and oxygen saturations were reading 80%. "Try to stay calm…" The young man lifted a blood-stained hand and pulled the mask away.
"Is…Astrid…okay?" he groaned, his face paling. "Astrid…" His eyes closed, fluttering as he struggled.
"Sats down to 75!"
"Trachea deviated. Tension pneumothorax! We need to decompress…"
"Pulse becoming erratic! We're losing output…"
The alarms screamed louder, the team concentrating to one purpose, each swinging into action, activating protocols and scenarios practiced a hundred times to try to save a life.
"Where's than drain? He's arresting!"
"No output. Start the algorithm…"
oOo
The young blonde woman paced backwards and forwards in the waiting area, others staying out of her way. There was blood smeared on the front of her jacket and on one cheek. Her braid flopped over her left shoulder as she moved ceaselessly back and forth, azure eyes searching the doorway and almost pouncing when she saw someone in uniform enter. She surged forward, her shape tense with urgency.
"My husband was brought in here-he was in the attack!" she said determinedly. "Please, I need to know how he is. What's happening to him?" The raven-haired woman in uniform quietly led Astrid to a chair and sat her down, watching the young blonde woman clasp her hands in anxiety.
"What is your husband's name?" she asked, taking out a pen.
"Hiccup-sorry, Harry Haddock," the blonde said clearly. "I am Astrid Haddock. We-we've only been married a year and this was our anniversary outing…" The woman smiled, her grey-green eyes kind.
"Pardon my mentioning it but your accent suggests you aren't from round here?" she asked gently. Astrid sighed.
"Hiccup is an engineer," she said, insanely grateful to talk about something other than the horrible situation they were in. "We're from Berk but Hiccup was offered a job in Brackley for a year working for one of the Formula One teams. He's crazy about his vehicles and it really was his dream job so I had no qualms about coming with him. I always wanted to travel so since we've been in England we've travelled all over-Edinburgh, Stratford, the Lake District, Paris…"
"Paris?" the woman-her name badge read 'Heather Bazerk'-asked with a smile. Astrid gave an embarrassed grin.
"He took me there for my birthday, the dork," she admitted. "And my treat for our anniversary was to come to London-see the sights, do a river cruise and have a meal in a Michelin starred restaurant…" Her face paled. "Oh Thor, I ought to ring to cancel…"
"I'm sure they'll understand…" Heather told her but Astrid shook her head.
"I had to book five months in advance to get the table," she sighed. "Damn it. If we hadn't stopped to watch the ducks or take those photos, we wouldn't have been there…" She blinked then swiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry-I'm all over the place." She lifted her chin determinedly. "So I really need to know how Hiccup is. Please…" Heather rested a hand on her arm, her eyes understanding.
"It's early on in the process," she reassured Astrid. "You saw how badly hurt he was and the trauma team are working on stabilising him and treating his injuries at the moment. When he's more stable and the plan is in place, the team leader will come and talk to you. They need to concentrate on looking after your Hiccup." She rose. "I'll get you a cup of tea and someone will let you know as soon as there's any news." Astrid looked up, almost making to follow the young woman but then she slumped back in the chair, her posture defeated.
"Thanks," she murmured, pulling her phone from her pocket and staring at the screen, pulling up the last image-of a happy couple, Astrid with her blonde hair braided over her left shoulder, her shining azure eyes and clear skin hugged by a tall lean young man with glittering emerald green eyes, slightly tousled dark auburn hair and a clear, sharp-jawed face with a smattering of freckles. Her thumb lightly caressed the man's laughing face, the shape of Big Ben visible just behind him.
"Stay with me, Hiccup," she whispered. "Don't leave me alone."
oOo
"It's done."
The beeping was steady and even as the measured noise level grew, the rustling of drapes being removed and binned, the thud of doors being opened and the sound of water as the lead surgeon washed his hands after being degowned, The patient was covered with a blanket and sheet as his limp shape was slid over onto the waiting bed, still limp, the tube in his mouth still pumping air in and out of his lungs. Dark auburn hair was still clotted with blood and eyelids were taped shut to protect the unconscious man's eyes. The anaesthetist looked up, checking the numbers.
"Stable," he said. "We'll head straight to ITU and keep him asleep until tomorrow. He's lost a lot of blood and with his chest trauma, I think he needs the rest." The surgeon looked up, his greenish eyes thoughtful. HIs short blonde hair was concealed under his surgical hood and he nodded, moving his husky shape from the operating theatre to sit in the coffee room and write his notes.
"Any more cases on the way?' he asked wearily but the anaesthetist shook his head.
"We're the last in theatre," he confirmed. The surgeon shook his head.
"We've done all we can to clean that wound and give him a chance," he said wearily. "Now you mentioned he had a wife?"
Weariness weighed his bones as he headed down the stairs towards the waiting room where the injured man's wife was waiting. It had been complex surgery at the end of a long day and he was weary, hungry and depressed. The buzz of another successful case was already fading amid the sense of anger and horror at the news rolling on the main news channel. He paused as he emerged on the ground floor, peering at the images of the attack. The names of the confirmed dead were already scrolling along the bottom of the screen and they were surprisingly few in number, though the injured were filling the emergency departments of all the major hospitals across the capitol. He shook himself, grateful that his wife worked in the hospital and that he had already spoken to her, reassured that she was safe but as heartbroken as he was. Then he reached the room and paused then entered, looking for the woman Heather had told him was his patient's next of kin. A slender blonde was waiting, obvious by the smear of blood on the front of her coat. She was staring despondently at the image on her phone, the battery symbol red, but her azure eyes snapped up as he entered, his short blond hair dishevelled. He offered her his hand.
"Mrs Haddock?" he asked and she nodded, accepting the handshake. "My name is Finlay Ingerman. I am the Chief Trauma Surgeon and I've just finished operating on your husband…" She gasped and her eyes widened.
"Is he alright?" she asked urgently, leaning forward. "Will he be okay?" She paused. "Is he still alive?"
"Not quite, yes and yes," the surgeon said with a smile, his round face kindly. "He was badly wounded. His left shinbone was shattered and he lost a lot of tissue from the lower leg, meaning the bone is exposed. His left lung collapsed and his heart briefly stopped but we rapidly restarted it once we relieved the pressure from the collapsed lung. He's also got severe bruising and a fracture around his left eye socket and he's got severe lacerations to his left arm."
There was a long pause as she tried to process the information.
"He is going to need further surgery in a week to his leg-to pin the shattered bone and to graft issue to the defect," he continued matter-of-factly. "Ten years ago, we would have amputated but since Afghanistan, we have developed great expertise in dealing with severe trauma. We can save his leg-if there is no infection." She stared. "He has a chest drain which will be removed when his lung is fully reinflated. And we have kept him asleep on the ITU to give his body a rest and a chance to heal."
"Can I see him?" Astrid asked suddenly. The surgeon stood and smiled.
"Of course," he said kindly. "Come with me."
There was no disguising the little gasp as she glimpsed the shape lying half propped-up on a drift of pillows, his bruised and bloodied face slack with unconsciousness and eyes closed. A tube in his mouth was attached to the ventilator, the soft hiss of air mixing with the rhythmic beep of the machines. A sheet covered him to the waist so she could see the bruises and scrapes over his lean torso, along with the tube emerging from the side of his chest, the drips and wires and monitors. A small sob escaped from her throat.
"Hiccup?" she whispered. "Babe?"
The hiss of the ventilator was the only answer and she inched forward.
"Hiccup?" She took his hand, feeling the flesh cool and dry, the hand limp and heavy. The surgeon kindly pulled up a chair and helped her sit, her hand clamped around his. "Is he going to be okay?" Her voice was starting to crack as the sight of her beloved lying so still and unresponsive drove home the reality of the situation. Green eyes flicking over the numbers on the screens, Mr Ingerman sighed.
"He's strong, Mrs Haddock," he assured her. "He pulled through the surgery and is stable. We have done everything we can to save his leg and the remainder of his injuries shouldn't be life threatening…once he gets over the initial shock and trauma." She stared up at him.
"Will he walk again?" she asked suddenly and the surgeon sighed.
"That's up to the Gods," he admitted. "If the wound stays clear of infection, we can close the defect and pin the shattered bone…and then it will be a long road…" She shook her head.
"He has to walk," she said quietly. "He's an engineer. If he can't walk, it will break him…it was all he ever wanted to do since he was a boy….oh Thor, I need to call his father…" She peered at her phone and groaned: 5%. "I…I forgot…do you have a charger? I-I can't…" He peered at the device and gave a kindly smile.
"I'll tell you what," he said gently. "You stay here with your husband while I go and borrow a charger for you…" And then he flashed a small smile before walking lightly towards the nurses' station as Astrid turned her gaze back on the limp shape of her husband.
"I'm here, babe," she murmured. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. And don't…don't you go anywhere either. You promised to be with me forever, Hiccup. You promised there would always be a Hiccup and Astrid-whatever it meant, whatever I wanted it to mean. And it doesn't matter how many legs you have or how many arms or anything like that…as long as I have you. We can work out whatever happens, babe. I will always be there at your side and I am never giving up on you. I love you, Hiccup. I always have and always will…" Her voice cracked. "Now don't leave me alone here. Don't leave me…" Tears trickled down her face as she stared at the pallid, bruised features of the young man. "Stay with me…"
oOo
Stoick 'the Vast' Haddock, former Mayor of the town of Berk peered out of the window of the iconic London Black Cab as it pulled up outside the steel and glass building where his son was fighting for his life. His fingers drummed on the window, his green eyes flashing with impatience as the cab pulled up and the cabbie looked back at the huge man. Stoick was close to seven feet tall and huge, four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, topped by eyes capable of the most fearsome glare and a vast flaming red beard that was braided extravagantly. The sports jacket strained around his massive muscular shoulders as he clambered out and the taxi visibly rose, almost groaning with relief. Behind him, an almost equally large man with a very round girth, a bald head and long braided blond moustache limped out, his prosthetic leg and hand not slowing him down at all. Stoick paid the fare plus a very generous tip and then headed into the hospital, the other man-his oldest and best friend, Gordon 'Gobber' Belcher-a pace behind.
The police standing guard at the doors looked impassively at the two men and they willingly allowed them to inspect their overnight cases before they were allowed to enter. Inside the huge glass-fronted lobby where more police were obviously watching the milling throng, Stoick stared up at the blue signs, the white letters directing to every department…until he found the ICU on floor 5. Immediately he headed for the lift with Gobber on his heels.
"Slow down, Stoick!" the two-limbed man growled, rolling a little as he tried to keep up. His voice was loud, brash and thickened by a broad Scottish accent-for both he had his friend originally hailed from the Highlands, though both had emigrated to the States as young men. "He isnae goin' anywhere!" Stoick stabbed at the UP button about half a dozen times, his impatience obvious.
"He needs me!" the man said, his gruff voice urgent. "Look, since his mother died, he's been all I've had-and I know the lass will be with him, but I just…I just have to see him…" A prosthetic had landed on his tense shoulder as Gobber looked up, his blue eyes surprisingly serious.
"Yer son is as strong as they get," he reminded his friend. The lift pinged and the doors opened. "Yer'll see. He'll be fine!" They got in and another two people looked into the lift, crowded with the two huge men in it before they backed off and waited for another car. The doors closed and the low hum sounded as they headed up to ICU.
After they had passed another police check, they made it to the ICU, the big space light and airy, the muted beeps sounding through the room. Everyone was in uniform, moving calmly but with purpose and he felt eyes trail him as he finally made it to the desk. The nurse at the desk directed him to his son and as he rounded the corner, he saw Hiccup, the young man's tall, lean shape lying motionless on the bed, a ventilator tube in his throat and drips and wires surrounding his pale form. His left leg was wrapped in bandages and a weird contraption that hummed gently and his left arm was in splints. And sitting motionless at his side, holding his hand, was Astrid. Stock paused, his eyes wide with shock at his son's condition-and Astrid's.
The beautiful young woman looked jaded and dishevelled, her hair stringy and falling out of its braid, deep shadows under her eyes and her eyes dulled. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty as she stared at the motionless shape.
"Hiccup." The soft word caught her by surprise and she looked up as Stoick dropped his small suitcase and stared at his son. She took a shuddering breath.
"He's still asleep," she said hoarsely and he walked forward, hardly daring to touch the bed. "It's okay-he's stable."
"What-what happened?" he breathed and Astrid rose, her eyes trailing back to the motionless shape at her side.
"It was my fault," she said tonelessly. "If I hadn't insisted on those stupid pictures of us, we would have been safely across the bridge, away from that lunatic. If I hadn't held us up, Hiccup would be safe. He wouldn't have had to push me out of the way and he wouldn't have been injured. I did this. It's my fault."
For an aeons long moment, Stoick stared at her-before he took a pace forward and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his huge, solid body. He felt her struggle for a second…and then she relaxed against him, her face burrowing into his chest as he felt her shaking and sighed.
"Astrid lass-we both know that's not the truth," he told her gently. "We both know that man made his choice to drive at innocent pedestrians, that he chose to maim and kill at random for reasons that only he understands…because I cannot understand any reason that would justify such a crime. But this is Hiccup we're talking about-and he would have given his life in an instant to protect you, lass. He's loved you from when he was ten-or so he tells me. It was the happiest day of his life when you told him you felt the same."
"But he was hurt protecting me!" she mumbled.
"And he would do it again in an instant," Stoick reminded her gently. "But Hiccup is strong. He will pull through." She was shaking her head but he leaned back and lifted her chin with a finger. "Astrid-Hiccup was born two months early and very small. Val-Hiccup's late mother-feared he wouldn't make it. But I always knew he would. He's the strongest man I know. And he would climb all the way back from Helheim to be with you, Astrid. Don't fear. He will pull through." She nodded dumbly and stared at the floor as she pulled away.
"I know," she said in a shuddering voice. "Stoick-I just want to hold him, to hug him and protect him and take care of him…but he's so fragile right now, all I can do is hold his hand and pray to the Gods."
"Have yer spoke tae yer Uncle Finn?" Gobber asked and she stared at him, then shook her head.
"He needs me," she told the two limbed man dully and he gave a gentle smile.
"Lassie-Stoick will sit wi' him while we go get you some food," he said, realising she wouldn't have left his side. "We can work out how to get you a shower and some rest and a change of clothes. Hiccup loves ye, lass-and he'll need to see the woman he remembers, not an exhausted shadow of her. You need tae take care of yerself. Ye've got a bump on the noggin that ye havenae gotten look at, I'll wager and I guess ye havenae eaten nor drunk."
"I've had some water…" she murmured but Gobber was in full flow, winking at the nurse standing behind Astrid, who was nodding as his words. "Let ole Gobber tek care of ye, lass so Stoick can spend a few moments with his boy. And so ye can rest and get some fuel in that exhausted body-so ye can be ready to support and help Hiccup on his long road ahead."
There was a pause. Astrid was as stubborn as her husband-already the most stubborn man Gobber knew, even worse than his father-and he wondered if she would fight him on this. But, after a second, she nodded.
"You-you're right," she conceded. "I am a little peckish…and I feel awful. The nurses say he isn't waking today so now you're here-and he's not alone-I can maybe freshen up a little?" Gobber wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the doors, winking at his friend.
"That's the spirit, lass," he said. "Now what say we get some food-then sort out some fresh clothes and a hotel room close by so we can spend our time looking after our boy." She nodded-then pulled away and ran back to the bed, leaning over the unconscious shape.
"I'll be back soon, babe," she whispered. "Love you." And then she allowed herself to be steered from he ICU by Gobber, leaving Stoick with his son.
There was a pause and an alarming creak as he sat on the chair and took his son's hand. He swallowed as the nurse, Anna-a pretty young woman with bright ginger hair and green eyes-smiled and made a note on her chart.
"So you're Harry's Dad?' she asked, her tone bright and perky. "Wow. I wouldn't have guessed that!"
"Few do," Stoick commented as she sighed and looked at him.
"He has your nose," she admitted. "He's critically ill because he has a number of severe injures-even though none of them, on their own, are life-threatening. He's needing a machine to breathe for him and drugs to support his blood pressure. We're keeping him asleep because he has multiple rib fractures as well and those can compromise his breathing and we will keep him asleep until we're happy he's stable. We've confident he will made a good recovery but we never take anything for granted on Intensive Care because there is always the potential for things to go wrong. After all, people aren't here because everything is dandy!"
"Aye-that's the truth," Stoick murmured and leaned closer to the unconscious young man. "Son-I'm here. You know me-I always arrive later for the party but I am here now. And Astrid has been looking after you wonderfully. But I had to see you for myself. You are my only child, Hiccup-and all I have left of Val, your mother. When she…left us, I promised I would always protect you. But that was wishful thinking…because you are a grown man now and you have your own life to lead. I wish I could have taken the impact for you, son-just as you took it for Astrid-because that's what you do for someone you love. And I am so proud of you for the man you are and your bravery in saving the woman you love."
He blinked, his voice gruff and eyes shining with tears.
"Val-wherever you are-leave him with us, will you? I know it's selfish but he loves the lass with all his heart and it would break her-and me-to lose him. So though i know you are watching over him and would love to see him again…will you please leave him with us? Just for a few decades more?" He closed his eyes. "Leave him with the woman he loves."
oOo
Two days passed and Astrid, Stoick and Gobber sat by the bed as the anaesthetists carefully removed the endotracheal tube that they were using to ventilate Hiccup. He coughed and his emerald eyes fluttered weakly, then opened and he coughed as an oxygen mask was pressed over his bruised face. Disorientated emerald eyes searched the unfamiliar bright surroundings, seeing shapes over him. He struggled, irrespective of the pain.
"As'rid? Astrid?" he rasped and she was up in an instant, her hand closing around his and standing up so he could see her.
"I'm here, babe," she assured him. "I've got you."
"Okay?" His eyes were wild and desperate, his bloodshot eye an obvious reminder of his injuries.
"I'm safe, my love," she soothed him, her hands gentling his. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry, babe. We're both safe…"
"Feels like it…" he mumbled as she pulled back.
"That's my boy," a familiar Scottish brogue mumbled and Hiccup's head rocked sideways.
"Dad?' he gasped and the huge shape rose, resting a hand on his son's naked shoulder.
"Aye, son-you know how to give me a few more grey hairs," he said gently. "Glad to see yer still as sarcastic as ever…" Hiccup blinked slowly, his eyes still slightly glazed from the drugs he had been given.
"What happened?" he asked slowly and Astrid glanced over to Stoick and then back to her husband.
"There was…a car that drove on the sidewalk. Deliberately. You pushed me aside and it hit you instead." He stared at her for a moment and then nodded.
"Ow," he said quietly. "My arm and leg hurt. And my chest. How badly was I hurt?' Astrid chewed her lip.
"Broken arm and leg," she said. "Other bumps and bangs as well. You-you'll be okay…" His hand slowly raised to cup her cheek and he beckoned her to lean close, pulling his oxygen mask down and very cautiously pressings dry lips to shuddered and her eyes close, the lashes beaded with tears.
"Milady, I know it's worse than that," he sighed as he pulled back. "Let me know what's going on so we can face it together…" She leaned in and kissed him again.
"Once we've got you settled and a bit more comfortable, babe,' she promised. "Then we can get the doctor to talk to you." He lifted the mask back into place and took a deep breath.
"I'll hold you to that," he sighed as his eyes fluttered closed once more.
oOo
"We had to clean the wound carefully-because if there was an infection, it would be a disaster. And you've lost lot of tissue from the leg so in the next week, we will have to take tissue from somewhere else on the body to restore that and close the wound," Mr Ingerman said gently, looking into the face of the battered young man. Hiccup looked down at the bed, seeing his leg bound and protected with the metal pins sticking out and he swallowed nervously.
"Another operation? Did I forget to tell you I hate hospitals?" he asked quietly but the surgeon gave a sympathetic nod.
"Before they developed modern trauma and plastic surgery techniques, Harry, this was an amputation-level injury," he explained carefully. "But by doing this, we can salvage the limb." Staring into the surgeon's eyes, Hiccup gave a small nod. "Everything went smoothly. It was as good as it could be."
Hiccup stared into the surgeon's eyes and decided he trusted the man: there was a calmness around Finlay Ingerman that inspired confidence and he smiled.
"My wife will have a hundred questions for you," he admitted. The surgeon gave a small smile.
"I think she's already asked about eighty of them," he commented kindly and Hiccup sighed, feeling his chest twinge.
"She was with me," he said quietly. "She remembers. I don't really recall anything about the incident-only fragments. It's hurting her. I've got the broken body but Astrid…she's got the broken mind from the attack." He paused and his voice cracked. "I'm really worried about her," he admitted softly.
The surgeon took his hand and smiled.
"There will be help-for both of you," he promised. "Trust me."
But Astrid remained ever present, withdrawn and quiet, hyper alert for any danger or loud noise. She was quietly obsessed with the incident and Hiccup noticed she was searching through every image of the incident she could find online, every single photo posted on a news outlet or social media or anywhere else…until she found the picture. Hiccup watched the colour drain from her face and her entire body tense so he shifted himself up the bed and beckoned her to perch on the edge by him, gesturing for her to show him what she had found.
The young woman scrolled down the news reports and Astrid quietly handed her cell to Hiccup, allowing him to stare at the image. A blonde shape in a baby blue showerproof jacket was bent over a man sprawled on the ground, red blood smeared over his left leg and arm. There was a long, silent moment as green eyes stared at the image, seeing his wife bent low over him. He could recall only fragments but looking up into Astrid's blue gaze, he could see that she was suffering at the memory.
"I just see you shove me aside, babe, and then your scream and the thud as the car slammed into you and then carried on. There were people screaming, people jumping over the railings into the river. I heard a shot…but all I could see was you. Lying broken on the ground and wounded. You-your leg…" Her voice choked to silence and his hands stretched out to enclose hers in his warm, comforting grasp.
"You know what I see?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, the intensity making her look up. She swallowed and shook her head. "I see love," he told her gently. "I see myself, horribly wounded and my wife is there, caring for me. Someone has done something so terrible, killed without reason and injured so many…but my wife is with me in my darkest hour. That is love in its purest form, Astrid. And in a world where sometimes horrors make you wonder about mankind, where people can do such terrible, evil things to others, it's those gestures of love, of care, of humanity that remind you that the world isn't such a dark and desolate place. And I can never thank you enough for staying with me."
She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheeks.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.
"For a few moments, you did," he reminded her baldly. "But I had the most precious thing to live for. I fought to be with you, Astrid. I fought with every last ounce of my strength. And thank Thor, it was enough-along with the dedication and skill of the doctors and nurses…" Her shaking hand rose to trail down his battered face.
"But mostly my incredibly stubborn husband," she murmured, leaning close. Wincing at the pressure on his split lips, he leaned up into the kiss, desperate to feel her lips against his and knowing he would be able to do nothing more for a long time.
"And my loving, fierce wife," he smiled. "We're gonna deal with it together, Milady. That's the plan. We've got different experiences of the situation, different demons to fight but we can overcome them…together…"
oOo
Hiccup underwent his operation eight days after the attack, a long procedure where the shattered bones in his lower leg were pinned together and a tissue graft was performed to repair the missing soft tissue in his leg to eliminate the risk of infection. After nine hours of complex surgery, Mr Ingerman and his Plastic Surgery colleague, Mr Simon Jorgensen, were delighted with the results.
But Finlay Ingerman remained worried about Hiccup, for he denied he was having any memories or flashbacks and he stressed to the young man that it was completely normal after such a violent trauma. Hiccup had remained stubborn and shook his head but the surgeon had stood quietly and read the anguish on the auburn-haired man's face, realising he was starting to suffer the psychological trauma as well.
"If you are getting any of those things, tell us," he said. "There are people you can talk to. Our aim is to get you back where you were before all this started." He paused. "You-and Astrid." He paused again. "You may be walking down the road in six months' time and hear a car revving…and it may suddenly take you back to that moment." Hiccup chewed his lip.
"That could be a problem," he murmured. "I'm currently an engineer for a Formula One team…" Mr Ingerman smiled and patted his hand.
"We will make sure you are able to go back and do what you love once more," he promised. "However long it takes."
oOo
Hiccup was surprisingly philosophical as he began the long road to recuperation, aided by the physiotherapy team-a brother and sister, both tall and lanky with long hair-hers in braids, his in dreadlocks. They were crazy in their own way but efficient, caring and just challenging enough that they made him feel he had to progress to prove them wrong. However they did it, it worked because they drove him on far further than he would have imagined he could have got on his own.
But he knew he was struggling, wracked with what-ifs and very worried for his wife. He knew it would make them stronger, make them appreciate each other much more…but he could see Astrid drawing away from him, trying to be strong but closing down almost as he watched. She stopped going out, stopped driving and remained close to him, watching and protecting him almost every minute. And though he loved her with all his heart, he knew he had to do something to prevent the feisty, fearless, independent woman he fell in love with from shattering altogether.
So he made the call and accessed the psychological help that had been offered-both to him and to Astrid…because Mr Ingerman had been very clear.
"We treat victims of trauma. And we treat all their injuries, not just the obvious ones. And we treat all the victims, not just those we can operate on. That includes both of you. So call this number any time, Harry. I think you both need it."
They attended the psychologist together and held hands as they attended. Astrid had been unable to leave Hiccup when it was her appointment, so he had gone in with her…and his heart had broken as he realised the depths of her trauma. Especially when they had covered the day of the terrorist attack.
"We-we don't go out, that much-so when we organise something, it's a special occasion," Astrid mumbled as she looked anywhere but the eyes of the therapist. "I don't really like the Tube. I-I'm scared something will happen. So we were walking when…it happened. Then then I felt the shove and Hiccup was on the ground…covered in blood…" Her voice cracked. "It was all over him." She blinked and tears trickled down her cheeks. "And it was so hard, being in the ICU, with the person you spend all your time with, the person you love…with them but separated from them because they are unconscious…"
"So tell me how do you feel?" the therapist asked her and a tear trickled down her cheek. She had lost weight and the confidence had gone from her manner.
"Lost," she said quietly. "Every time I hear a noise, I imagine it's something else. I wait for something to go wrong. I fear he will fall, he will get a complication from his surgery, that he will lose his leg, that he will die. Some nights…some nights I stay awake all night, watching him sleep because I fear I will wake and he…" Her voice cracked. "He'll be dead."
The therapist's eyes filled with sympathy.
"And when I do sleep…I see it, over and over…the scream of the engine, the tyres, the thud as it hits him…his cry of pain…the blood…and the screams as he goes onwards and continues…" She closed her eyes. "I-I think I'm losing my mind. And all I want…is for things to go back the way they used to be. Friday night on the couch, watching Netflix , eating pizza and drinking beer. Is that too much to ask?"
"No, not at all," the therapist said, her cool blue eyes sweeping the sobbing blonde before her. She was an elegant slender young woman with white-blonde hair and a calm face. Immediately, Hiccup pulled Astrid against him, cocooning her in his embrace-though taking care not to impact his healing leg. She looked at the couple and guessed that between of them, they would have the strength to overcome the nightmares. "Astrid-you have severe post traumatic stress disorder. I am prescribing you sleeping tablets and antidepressants and we will meet twice a week to work through everything you are dealing with. Hiccup-you will need counselling as well but I think we'll hold off the sleeping tablets for the moment." Hiccup managed a wan smile.
"Well, I got a couple of days' sleep banked so I'm ahead of the game," he commented dryly. "Thank you. I am willing to do whatever it takes for us both to get back to where we were."
oOo
They had good and bad days, days where there were tears and shouting and accusations, days of silence and withdrawal. Astrid was stubborn, railing against the concept of needing help while secretly realising that she needed it. She was always strong, always brave-and here she was, broken. not in body but in mind and she struggled to accept it. But Hiccup was there with her, his gentle and kind presence a rock to anchor her through her turbulent voyage through her demons. And she was there when he woke at night in pain, cramps wracking his rebuilt leg or nightmarish memories haunting his dreams.
Stoick and Gobber visited often, coming across from the States every other week and they became familiar sights round the pretty Oxfordshire village where the couple were renting a cottage. As Spring advanced into Summer, Astrid began to go out again, tending the garden and resuming her runs-though she tried to run along footpaths and bridleways, rather than on the roads, as she had previously. She hadn't been working before the attack but on the psychologist's advice, she took a bank physical therapy post at the local hospital, working with orthopaedic cases-in between helping her husband recover from his trauma.
Hiccup went back to work in the late summer, Astrid driving him through the security cordon at the highly secure headquarters of the F1 team he worked for. The trees were in full bloom, the deep green foliage shielding the headquarters from the road and from any prying eyes. The familiar surroundings were private and safe-but he was prepared to be anxious, for engine revving and the screeching of tyres was normal for the sport. But he was truly touched when the receptionist got up and hugged him and Astrid and then, after Astrid had left, when the other engineers lined up and cheered him as he walked back into his place of work.
"Um…sorry, guys," he said as he limped to his place, his arm crutches still very much in use. "I've missed most of the season…" But Guy, the Chief Engineer, walked forward and smiled at him.
"Harry-there is no way you could have anticipated this and while you were with us, you were doing exceptional work," he said. "So we want to extend your contract with us at least into the next year-and possibly beyond. You are an exceptional young man-and we are so proud you have gotten back on your feet and returned to us."
Behind them an engine revved and for a second, Hiccup closed his eyes…but then he opened them again with a smile, the emerald depths determined. He loved engineering and he would be damned to Helheim if he allowed the attack to rob him of that as well. He smiled.
"Thanks," he said, "I'm really touched. Really." And then he turned to his desk. "So what are we working on today?"
oOo
25th September 2017
The sun was shining down on the warm sandy stone of the Palace of Westminster, the tower of Big Ben swallowed by scaffolding and the chimes silenced for long-delayed maintenance as the young couple made their slow way past. The other people on the street were walking swiftly, heads down and eyes inspecting phones, oblivious to the armed guards and the security measures around Parliament. Hiccup and Astrid walked slowly along Bridge Street from Parliament Square, hands clasped and steps measured. Hiccup was limping still, a single arm crutch helping him along. Astrid could feel his tension through her own taut shape, eyes darting to and fro, searching for threats among the people pouring out of the Underground station. They paused by the gates, bedecked with flowers, and Hiccup turned to face her.
"It's over," he told her gently. "We made it back here. We both survived."
"But look at you," Astrid whispered, her mind flying back as it had so often to that moment when he was hit…or the time she first saw him in the ICU, so battered and pale… "You were so hurt…" He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her forehead, dexterous fingers stroking her cheek.
"I survived," he assured her. "We won, Astrid. We survived. And we're bruised and battered but we're alive. We're safe. They didn't win." He looked up. "They will never win. Life goes on. We go on." She blinked, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"I am so lucky to have a man like you," she whispered. "You are so strong, so determined…while I'm so… so…"
"Afraid," he murmured, ghosting his lips over her skin. "So am I, Milady. I nearly lost you-and I would have given my life to spare you. When I saw the car coming, I had to make sure you were safe…" He paused. "And I keep seeing the car. I hear the screams…and I feel myself drifting away from you." He sighed and she pressed her hand to his cheek.
"I am here," she whispered. "You're right. Every day is a blessing, a reaffirmation of our love. A confirmation that life goes on-and that good will always win over evil." She looked up into his loving emerald eyes. "I love you." He nodded.
"I love you too, Milady," he murmured. "Now let's see if we can finally make that lunch…" And she smiled, her hand twining round his as she leaned up and kissed him.
"Ready?" she asked and he nodded. Slowly, they walked away, each step a triumph as they passed the spot where the rains had long since washed away the stains of his blood. A gull flapped and soared above the young couple, hand in hand, as they walked away, across the bridge.
End.