I thought of this while doing dishes. I don't know what I'm doing anymore...

Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon, or Rise of the Guardians.

Warning: Hijack, child abuse, messed-up parenting.


To say that Jack was uncomfortable with the notion was an understatement. But he agreed anyway, telling her to meet him at the front office after the last bell, and then they would head off. The bell rang, signaling the end of this hour's torture, and the class was dismissed. Chairs scraped on linoleum flooring, a terrible screech that left him wondering, "Does anyone know how to pick up a chair and put it under their desk anymore?"

With a mumble to the teacher, telling her to have a nice day, he left the classroom. And then he sighed.

He was screwed. Indefinitely.

The class he had just got out of was biology, and in all honesty, it wasn't that hard. It was easy for him. The only problem was the projects. Jack would have been fine if he had to do it on his own… but no, they had to do it… with an assigned partner.

Jack was… well, he liked doing things alone. Despite his image, he was incredibly smart, and he had the competence to do practically everything by himself. So, assigned partners was like telling Jack to go shoot himself in the foot.

And what was worse, he was paired up with the notorious Astrid Byerly. Astrid was the most lusted-after girl in the whole school. She played in almost every sport, even the boy's football team, and she had been with almost every senior on campus… if you know what I mean.

With Jack being incredibly handsome and all, Astrid obviously had her sights set on him next.

So when their teacher paired them up, Astrid automatically suggested they go to her house after school to begin the Cellular Respiration project they had to do. And this was where Jack agreed, but he felt uncomfortable nonetheless. Not because he was going to this girl's house, but because she was going to flirt with him, no doubt, and well, he didn't swing that way. That was seriously the only reason why Jack didn't drool whenever he saw her.

"Well, today's going to be a blast…" Jack muttered, mostly to himself as he ushered past the crowds in order to get to his next class.



The final bell rang, and Jack's heart dropped to his knees. He was dreading this. He really was.

"Do it for the grade, Jack," he told himself, and with that in mind, he made his way to the front office. Astrid was already waiting, her short skirt swishing behind her as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Please, as if she was waiting that long…

"Hey Jack!" Astrid chirped when her eyes caught sight of Jack. "Ready to go?" She chirped.

"As ready as I'll ever be!" Jack said back, maybe putting a bit too much excitement in his voice. Astrid laughed, and grabbed onto his arm.

"Come on, let's get going," She said, breathing hard from laughing. Jack nearly rolled his eyes. He seriously wasn't that funny.

He let himself be pulled by the blonde girl. They stood on the side walk for a good minute when an expensive-looking car rolled up. Astrid hopped in the front seat. Jack climbed into the back. A big, but friendly-looking, woman sat in the driver's seat, her critical eye on him.

"Oh, mom this is Jack. We have a project due," Astrid explained as her mother pulled away from the curb.

"Well then, hello," Her mom said to him.

"Hello," Jack said in reply. There was no more conversation until they pulled into a driveway. It took a couple second for Jack to realize that this was the good side of town, where all the hot-shots and rich people lived. He stepped out of the car, forcing himself not to gape at the humungous house that he was supposed to go into. It looked almost as big as a freaking mansion!

He stepped inside the house, and almost took off his shoes because he didn't want to dirty the immaculate floors. He could practically see himself in the reflection the marble threw off. Yes, marble. He saw movement from somewhere deeper in the house and suspected it was her dad or someone else in the house, so he waited for whoever it was to introduce themselves. When no one came, Jack opened his mouth.

"What… what was that?" He asked.

"It's nothing important," Astrid assured coldly. The she turned and started running up the stairs. "Come one, Jack!" She said.

"Ah, can we work down here?" Jack asked nervously. Astrid stopped, halfway up the first flight of stairs already, and turned around slowly.

"Why would you want to work down here?" Astrid asked. Jack gulped, looking for a good excuse.

"Because I'm scared of heights," Jack said easily. Astrid was about to open her mouth when he continued. "It's stupid, I know, but I get super nervous when I'm high up, and being upstairs kind of makes me jittery. So… please?" He asked. Astrid just sighed.

"Okay, fine. We'll work on the table," She said, ushering him to the dining room table. They cracked open their books, and started their project.



To say Jack stayed longer than he wanted was really an understatement. He stayed so late, he was now eating dinner with Astrid and her mother.

And things were a bit strange to him.

At first, it was the movement he saw in the home, as if someone else was there. And then, it was the appearance of food. It was a quality meal, one that could not have been cooked on the spot; these things took planning and precision. Chicken Alfredo with this type of taste and flair did not make itself. And Mrs. Byerly didn't even step in the kitchen.

Something was a bit off.

After they were done eating, Mrs. Byerly shocked Jack with a deafening yell.

"HAMISH!" She screeched. Jack was wondering what the heck she was talking about, when someone rushed into the room, gather all their dishes swiftly, and retreated back into the kitchen. Jack blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what was going on.

The Byerly's had a servant.

And Jack couldn't believe it.

"Well, you two be good, and I'll be back in a while," Mrs. Byerly said, standing up. "Jack, you're welcome here for as long as you want." With that, she left.

Jack couldn't tear his eyes away from the servant boy. His brown hair had red highlights in them, and his bangs swooped into his eyes as his head was bent, concentrating on washing the dishes. He wore ill-fitting clothing; a baggy dark green shirt that went well past his waist, and a two-sizes-too-big pair of pants that bunched around his joints. Jack noticed that there were countless freckles scattered across the boy's face and bare arms.

"I'm going to take a shower," Astrid stated. "Are you going to be okay for a little while?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just going to look for anything else we might need to know for the project." Jack assured. Astrid smiled.

"Okay, then," She said, skipping up the stairs and out of sight. The sound of running water sounded from upstairs, and Jack smiled. Sliding out of his seat, we ambled his way to the kitchen.

Jack would be lying if he said that he didn't stare at the boy for a while. He was washing the dishes rhythmically, his hands roamed the dishes to make sure all the leftover food was off of them. He worked with a little frown on his face, but he didn't utter a word. Jack then cleared his throat, making the kid jump and look at him. The kid blushed, his freckled cheeks turning an interesting shade or red. Jack got his first look at his eyes too, a deep green that regarded Jack with nervousness.

"Hey," Jack greeted.

"Hi," The boy squeaked, turning back to his dishes pitifully. Jack walked over and grabbed a towel, positioning himself next to the boy.

"Need help?" Jack asked.

"No, not really," the boy responded, but he had no choice as Jack started drying the dishes and stacking them next to him.

"So, what's your name?" Jack asked, smiling as he carefully dried a plate. The boy blushed deeper, and didn't look up from his work.

"Hamish," he muttered.

"Well, hi Hamish, I'm Jack," He said, smiling brightly. The boy, Hamish looked up, and then a little smile flitted over his features, just barely lifting the corners of his lips. Jack's heart nearly beat straight out of his chest. Hamish was adorable.

"So… how old are you?" Jack asked, both of them getting back to work.

"Fifteen," Hamish said quietly. Jack eyes widened and he almost dropped the plate in his hands.

"What?" Jack sputtered. "You're only a year longer than me, why aren't you going to school with us?" Hamish colored under the interrogation, and worried his bottom lip.

"I am not allowed…" Hamish said in the quietest voice manageable.

"Not allowed…" Jack repeated. "That's a load of bull. Schools just can't reject you…"

"I have never been to school," Hamish said, his voice cracking slightly. Jack's eyes widened.

"You haven't?" Jack asked, dropping his towel and placing a hand on Hamish's shoulder. The boy jumped, dropping the sponge in the sink as he did so. Hamish shook his head, answering Jack's question.

"What the hell have they been doing to you?" Jack whispered quietly. It was then that he noticed that the boy was pale, as if he never went outside a day in his life, and that he was thin. Dangerously thin. As if he hadn't eaten in a month.

Hamish then broke down and let out a tiny sob, his body shaking with the effort it took to hold back the tears. Jack pulled him into a hug, and Hamish collapsed against Jack's chest. They stood there for a while, Jack's hand roaming up and down Hamish's back comfortingly while tears flowed down the poor servant boy's eyes.

Neither noticed the absence of the sound of running water from upstairs. Neither heard the sound of footfalls as Astrid came down the stairs.

"Jack, I'm back! Where did we-?" Astrid said, breaking off as she saw the sight that was before her. Hamish broke away from Jack, wiping his tears hastily. "You! What have I told you about talking to guests?!" Astrid sounded mad. Hamish flinched back, a sorry-sounding whimper coming from the back of his throat.

"Hey, this isn't his fault! I'm the one that-!" Jack butted in, standing up for the poor kid, but Astrid brushed him aside.

"I'm sorry that it talked to you, Jack," Astrid said, without feeling.

"He's not an it!" Jack yelled. "How could you say something like that?"

"N-no, no, it's-" Hamish tried to say, but he was shrugged off. Jack was having none of this.

"Why would you be standing up for it?" Astrid retorted. "It's just a servant!"

"No, Astrid, he's a person! And you're sick if you think of him as anything less." Jack spat.

"Just leave then!" Astrid said, throwing her hands in the air. "You can do the project on your own!"

"Fine, then I will!" Jack said, and Astrid didn't think that he would actually do it. But he shoved everything into his blue backpack angrily, and was about to leave. Hamish just watched. At the final second, though, Jack walked right back into the house, grabbed Hamish's arm, and dragged him out with him.

To say Astrid was pissed would have been an understatement. But Jack couldn't leave Hamish there with her. That would have been brutal. Jack may have pulled his own fair share of pranks, but he had a heart, and he knew the treatment of Hamish was unacceptable. The boy just let himself be dragged down countless streets, not uttering a peep until they were about a mile away from the Byerly's house. They were stopped at a crossing light when he finally spoke up.

"Thank you," Hamish said, wiggling his fingers a bit and tightening his grip on Jack's hand. Jack gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"No problem," Jack responded. "The way she was speaking about you wasn't right,"

"No, not that," Hamish said. Jack looked at him, his green eyes shiny with unfallen tears. "Thank you for getting me out of there,"


"Thank you for getting me out of there,"

Jack didn't know what to say to that one. Was it really that bad over there? What exactly happened to Hamish? How did he get to be their servant? Questions flooded Jack but he just pursed his lips and pulled Hamish into a gentle hug.

"You're alright now," Jack said quietly, letting go as the crossing light turned white. Their hands were still linked as Jack pulled him down the street again, leading him to wherever they were going.

"Where are we going?" Hamish asked politely. Jack just smiled.

"I'm getting you a bite to eat, and then we'll head over to my place," Jack said, "because, honestly, I'm a terrible cook." Hamish just nodded at the response. A bite to eat sounded good to his near-empty stomach.

A cheeseburger, some fries, and a Sprite later, Hamish and Jack were on their way to Jack's house. They twisted and turned through streets and alleyways in near silence, Hamish squeaking a bit whenever something moved in the distance. He had never been outside before, and all this was new.

"Are… are your parents alright with me coming over?" Hamish said quietly, the question mucking through his mind for a couple minutes beforehand. Jack just looked at him, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"My parents love guests," Jack stated. "They won't have a problem with you staying over,"

Staying over… The term reverberated in Hamish's mind for a while. What did this mean? He didn't have time to think about it, though, because it seemed like no time had passed before they were standing in front of a small-looking one story house.

"Here we are," Jack said, gesturing to the house. It looked nice. Hamish was ushered to the door, and Jack fished out a set of keys from his pocket. Unlocking the door swiftly and pulling out the keys, Jack led Hamish inside.

The first thing Hamish felt when we walked in was the warmth. It tingled up his cold skin, and his fingers felt numb in comparison. But Hamish breathed in deeply, and this definitely was a home. Not a house. A home. Many people couldn't tell the difference, but Hamish could.

"Jack, is that you?" Someone asked, walking toward them. With a baby on her hip, Jack's mother came into view. She had short brown hair and kind blue eyes, and a smiled bloomed across her face as she set her eyes on her son and his friend. "Hi, sweetie," His mother greeted. "Who's your friend?"

"Mom, this is Hamish," Jack said. Hamish waved a bit. Jack's mother smiled as she placed the baby on the floor. She gathered her bearings for a second, before tottering off in Jack's direction, holding her hands up at her brother. Jack swooped down and hauled the baby into his arms.

"Hamish, this is my little sister, Emma. Say hi, Emma." Jack cooed.

"Hiiiii…" The little girl said with a sweet smile. Hamish smiled back at the girl.

"Hello," He said. The little girl wiggled and put her hands out toward Hamish. Unsure of what to do, the boy stepped back. Jack laughed a bit.

"She wants you to hold her, see," Jack said, stepping closer and putting Emma in Hamish's arms. Hamish held the girl awkwardly as she placed her arms up over his shoulders, and leaned her head on Hamish's left shoulder. She was still. "Aw, look. She's giving you a hug," Jack cooed.

Hamish smiled as her patted the girl's back softly. Jack's mother walked over and plucked little Emma out of Hamish's arms with practiced ease.

"Sorry, boys, its Emma's bed time," She said, situating the baby on her hip once more. "Say nightie-night Emma,"

"Nigh-nigh…" Emma cooed.

"Good night Emma," Jack and Hamish said at the same time.

"I'll be right back," Jack's mother mouthed as she walked out of the room.

Hamish looked around some more. The hard-wood floors looked scuffed, as if they've seen some life in their time. The couch looked antique, but oddly comfortable. The dinner table was small, and was beaten up quite a bit. But every one of these things made Hamish's breathing easier. This was all the opposite of what the Byerly's house was. His anxiety leaked out of his body slowly.

"How old is she?" Hamish asked suddenly. Jack looked at him with curiosity.

"Emma? She's about to be two in a couple months. She's a bit… delaying in the speech department," Jack said, shrugging. "She'll be fine, I'm sure,"

"She is really cute," Hamish said, wandering around a bit. He walked under the ceiling fan's light, which was a big mistake.

Jack could now see Hamish a lot clearer than he ever did before. His brown-and-red hair was oily and his face was dirty, as if he hadn't showered in days. His dark green shirt had stains on them, and they didn't look like normal kitchen stains, either. His bony arms that peeked through his shirt sleeves were covered in freckles and bruises. His finger nails looked as though they had blood in them, as if he was scratching at some scabs… or scars.

"Hamish…" Jack gasped, walking toward him and grabbing his arm lightly. Hamish flinched at the contact, but Jack inspected his arm anyway. The bruises looked bad, and fresh. Jack's blood boiled. Who could do something like this to someone so innocent?

"I-It is nothing, Jack," Hamish tried to assure, but it was to no avail. Jack was not having any of it.

"No, it's not nothing, Hamish. What they did to you was wrong…" Jack looked up, and their faces were really closer together. Jack swallowed, about to keep talking, when his mother walked in.

"Thank God, that's over," She said quietly, not fazed by the scene she saw in front of her. "Emma's asleep, boys, but let's keep our voices down for now, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hamish replied quietly and almost immediately.

"I'll be right back, Mom," Jack said, his hand sliding down Hamish's arm and hooking onto the boy's hand. He pulled him down the hall and into a cobalt blue room.

"What are you doing?" Hamish asked quietly. Jack walked to a dresser and pulled out an extra set of clothes, the smallest set he had, and pushed them into Hamish's hands. He then ushered him out of the room, and stopped at a closet at the other end of the hall. Jack reached in and grabbed the fluffiest towel he could for Hamish, also pressing it into the boy's hands. Jack then led Hiccup to the bathroom.

"Get yourself cleaned up," Jack said. "After, we'll talk, okay?" Hamish only nodded, and walked into the bathroom.

Jack sighed, and went back into the living room with his mother. She was already sitting on the couch, sipping on a cup of tea when he entered. He smiled slightly, and sat on the couch next to him mom.

"So, is Hamish a new friend of yours?" His mother asked. Jack just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I guess so," Jack replied. His mother shot him a confused look, which he quickly countered with an explanation. "I went over to this girl's house, to work on a project, and it turns out he was their servant. A servant, mother! And they treated him like garbage! Calling him 'it'! I stood up for him, and I got kicked out basically. But before I left… I don't know, I sort of… took him with me?"

"That was very nice of you, Jack," His mother said.

"He's taking a shower now," Jack said, the sputtering of running water filling the house. "And then we'll go to bed after, I promise."

"Do you need something to eat dear?" She asked, looking at Jack with a concerned look in her eye.

"Oh, no. I ate. And so did Hamish," Jack said.

"He seemed really skinny for his age, small too." His mother regarded.

"Yes, he's only fifteen," Jack said. "Fifteen, mom! And he's been through hell and back! This was the only way I could think about helping him… I hope you aren't mad, mom."

"I'm not mad, sweetie," His mother assured, running a hand through his bleached white hair. "He's just going to have to spend the nights in your room, that's all."

Nights. She said nights. As in plural. That was immediately interpreted as 'Hamish can stay for as long as he wants' to Jack. Jack hugged his mother, careful not to spill her tea.

"Thanks mom," He said. His mother just laughed.

Hamish walked nervously into the room, dressed in a loose black tank top and baggy, too-long white checkered pajama bottoms. His collar bone stood out starkly, and his hand was rubbing at is exposed forearm. Jack shot him a smile, and then pressed a kiss onto his mother's head.

"G'night mom," Jack chirped.

"Good night, you two. See you in the morning," His mother replied.

"Good night, ma'am," Hamish said. Jack grabbed his hand and dragged him back into his blue room.

"I'm sorry we don't have an extra bed, we'll just have to share. Is that okay?" Jack asked, letting go of Hamish's hand and closing the door after them.

"It is fine," Hamish sighed. Really, he was glad he was going to sleeping in a bed, sharing one wouldn't be the end of the world. Jack sat down on his bed, and got comfortable. Hamish just stared at him. He then patted the space next to him, and smiled at the freckled boy. Said boy moved across the room and sat down next to Jack, not looking the other in the eye.

"So how did you get there? With the Byerly's?" Jack asked quietly. Hamish stared down at the bed, hoping that the piece of furniture would open up and swallow him. But it didn't and he had to answer the question.

"It's not something I like to remember…" Hamish started.


Hamish's Past

Valerie was a good girl. She got good grades in school, got a scholarship to a well-known university, had a loving family and a beloved sister, oh, and a handsome boyfriend.

All of that fell to the ground when she found out she was pregnant.

At first, she thought it was a coincidence. The morning sickness was passed off as food poisoning or the flu. Any weight that she gained was automatically blamed on her diet, and she would fix that by upping the intensity of her daily workouts and modifying her food choices. If there were any other signs, Valerie missed them. She simply did not know she was pregnant. That, or she didn't want to accept the fact… or give up her child.

College started up, and Valerie wasn't far from home. She rented an apartment a couple blocks away from her parents' house; not too far away, but enough so that she had her privacy. She shared that apartment with her very best friend, Lucy. They were practically sisters. They even called each other sisters.

Valerie was working on homework when the contractions started. Valerie panicked, and called 9-1-1. Help was on scene in minutes, but things didn't look good for Valerie, or for the baby. The baby's head was stuck, the umbilical cord was wrapped around its neck four times.

Valerie was weak. Very weak. She could barely talk, and she knew she was dying. By the time they got her to the hospital, she didn't have much time left. When someone passed by her, she grabbed their hand, and she managed to say something with her fragile voice.

"Take my baby to my sister… she'll take care of it…" Valerie let go of the person. She was talking about her roommate, Lucy. A minute later, her heart stopped beating, and her lungs stopped moving.

The doctors and nurses saw that they baby survived. His vitals were strong, and he was definitely a fighter. He was screaming bloody murder, but the nurses were used to that by now.

The only thing that was missing was a person to hold onto the child. Valerie was dead, no matter how many times they tried to resuscitate her. Nobody knew where Valerie's boyfriend had gone. The hospital was frantically trying to get ahold of her real sister, Helena Byerly. Once she picked up the phone, they told her what had happened. Helena was furious, but she went to the hospital anyway, holding her own one-year old baby girl in her arms, and took the poor child.

Helena named the child Hamish, but she wanted to name him Hiccup, because he was a mistake, because he wasn't supposed to be here. She took the child home, and cared for him like her own.

For the first couple years that is.

As soon as he could function properly, as in walk and talk and have at least some hand-eye coordination, she put him to work. He never stepped outside, he never talked back, he did his chores, and then escaped to the basement, where he was allowed to be in his free time. The basement was cold, and there were only a couple blankets to keep him warm. There was no bed.

Hamish barely ate. He was weak, he was always light-headed, he was always behind on sleep. Whenever he was just a bit sluggish, and Helena saw, he would get a good beating. He usually came out of it with a busted lip and a couple bruises, but sometimes he got a good cut somewhere on his body due to her rings she insisted on wearing. The very same rings Hamish had to polish.

Astrid was only a year older than him. When she was little, she would try to play with him, but Helena pushed her away.

"No sweetheart, he doesn't play with good little girls like you,"

"Why not mommy?"

"He's a killer. He's killed my sister."

"Oh,"

It was the start of hatred and indifference in Astrid's life. She saw him as trash, because that was how she was raised. She didn't know any better.

When Astrid started bringing people over, Hamish quickly got the message to stay out of sight for as much as he could. He got a good thrashing a couple times because a couple words were exchanged between him and the guests. He was only visible when Helena called him. And then he was out of sight in an instant.

So when he was talking to Jack that night, he knew he was going to be in trouble. But Jack had cared for him, helped him with his chores, and was kind to him. That kind of overwhelming compassion made Hamish never want him to go.


Hamish's story caught up to the present, tears stinging in his eyes as he told every bit of it. Jack's eyes were shining too, with tears for this boy he barely knew. In a flash, Jack had gathered up the boy in his arms, rocking him back and forth, running a hand through his still-wet reddish hair. Hamish clung to Jack's tee shirt helplessly, the second time that day crying onto him.

"I will never do that to you," Jack mumbled to Hamish. "That's wrong, what they did, and you're safe now. You're here… I got you," Then, because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment, Jack pressed a soft kiss on top of Hamish's head. Hamish, stopped his crying for a second, surprised at the foreign action.

"I'm not going to hurt you, ever." Jack said, holding on ever tightly to the rigid boy in his arms.

"Thank… thank you, Jack…" Hamish said, spent.

"I didn't do anything, I just did what was right," Jack said. Hamish looked up at him, and gave him a watery smile. "We should get some sleep. You look tired."

"Yes…" Hamish said, wiping his eyes with the collar of his tank top. Jack clambered into his bed first, and Hamish followed him. Jack was at the very edge of his bed, his back pressed up against the adjacent wall to give Hamish some space.

"Good night, Hamish," Jack whispered.

"Good night…" Hamish said back.

Jack drifted off to sleep in an instant, the surprising warmth that came with another body in the same bed putting him to sleep faster than any medication could. Hamish lay there for a while, the bed so comfortable and he was unaccustomed to it. He felt himself scooting closer to Jack, feeling himself curl up in a ball. Hamish was practically buried under the covers, Jack three inches away from him.

Hamish could hear Jack's heartbeat, could see his chest moving slowly and deeply. Hamish felt his eyes droop.

Thank you for sending Jack to save me, Hamish thought, thanking God, before he fell it the depths of sleep, for the first time, with a smile on his face.


Please don't hate me.

Some elements of this story is based on real things that have happened. Not necessarily the servitude, but what happened to Valerie happened to my mother's friend.

I'm not sure if I'll be continuing this or not. If you have any ideas, feel free to tell me!

I love you all, please leave a review!

-HB