"We need to leave." The words echoed through the camp, mixing with the sparks of the bonfire and creating yet another obstacle to sleep. The remains of the ships drifted through the water—would any of them carry men? An entire fleet of ships gone in a single blast. Stoick did not want to think of what that would mean in the future, the repairs, the resources. All because of a single bad move. But somehow they would leave. Already men were out there examining the ships by the faint firelight, preparing the bad news.

No, not necessarily bad. Annoying. They were Vikings, they dealt with what they had. They were resourceful. A little detail like burnt ships wouldn't stop them. In the morning, when the light was better, the situation could be seen, repairs made, other arrangements made. Stoick had never been one for planning, but this would be simple and strong instinct. Because they needed to leave as soon as possible.

He stared out at the craggy rocks of the ocean, barely visible through the mist. A labyrinth of stone. No wonder the nest had been impossible to find. He hated it. He preferred the open land of Berk, even the trees. Ash continued to fall like snow. He would not have been surprised to find it was snow, only the island still smoldered from the dead dragon. Snow would be a welcome relief. Anything but the ashy whiteness of the sky and those terrible rocks.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they could prepare returning to Berk. Tonight, after what could be seen of the ships' wreckage was seen, was for rest. The children especially should be resting. Stoick doubted they were, even after his command, and he couldn't blame them.

Hiccup lay by the fire, still shivering despite being wrapped in Stoick's fur cloak and the fire and the remnant heat of that beast. His eyes had not opened once, and his shivering was welcome to Stoick as at least a sign of life. Other than that, nothing. Hiccup was the reason they had to leave. Stoick crouched down next to his son. This was not right. A father was not supposed to see his child like this. A father was not supposed to have caused it.

That leg… Stoick did not want to look at it again, but he could not shake the images from his head. He hadn't seen what had happened up there. Apparently it was glorious. Destruction of the greatest dragon any Viking had ever seen. He was proud, of course. Proud could not begin to cover it. But that leg, burnt clear through to the bone in some places, crushed in others. What had happened there? He had seen the aftermath: the downed dragon, the charred and twisted harness, his unconscious son. He had seen what a bit of dragon fire could do to a man. Fire would take what little it could grab, then burn and burn. Was it as simple as that, a single spark of that explosion catching? A bad way in the explosion? A spectrum of grizzly images would not leave his mind. He didn't want to deal with that leg now. But it would have to be done.

The dragon lay close to Hiccup, breathing a heavy purr. What had Hiccup called the beast? Toothless? Its eyes were half-closed and filled with exhaustion, but still focused on Hiccup. The dragon was scratched and bruised as well. How did one tell a dragon to just sleep? Well, Stoick was grateful for the company, even if he had told everyone he just needed a few hours alone.

"What happened up there?" he asked.

The dragon just looked at him.

"Whatever happened, I still thank you."

Stoick didn't sleep. As the rest of the men gave in to the late night and made what camp they could, Stoick stayed awake. He didn't dare sleep, didn't dare taken his attention away from his son, who still wouldn't open his yes. Was that so much to ask for? A sign that everything was going to be all right?

Finally, what sun could come through those awful rocks came, misty and dull with the falling ash. Stoick stood up, knowing he should feel exhausted but only feeling a stubborn energy to do something. He could see the remains of the ships clearly. Their fires were gone, and little was left of the bonfire. Wood, either pulled by men or the tide, covered the beach. No ships worth sailing remained.

What news to deliver.

Go down there, he told himself. See what needs to be done. Take charge.

But Hiccup had still not moved. Nothing beyond the constant shivering. The dragon nudged his face in vain.

Stoick closed his eyes. He was the chief. There were more important things to worry about. He opened his eyes and turned to the dragon. "Watch him. Please."

The wood was useless. Pieces of ships and nothing more. Patches. That's what they would be for, if only there were a ship for patching.

The rest of the village, all those back home, what would they think? And all of them here… He glanced back up where Hiccup and that dragon lay. All around people were awaking. Time to get to work.

"Not much to work with, is there?" Gobber commented as he approached.

Stoick shook his head. "No, that beast took care of the fleet."

"The kids and those dragons they stole from my arena. What about them? Anything sparking an idea?"

"It's not your arena. And I just can't send a few kids back riding those dragons. Not after…" He sighed and shook his head. "There are still a few ships back at the harbor. I'll send the children with instructions to send those out. It will take time."

"Hey, it's a plan."

"I need to get my son home. Now. I need a ship. Now." He didn't mean to sound so angry. He didn't realize he had felt that way.

Gobber put a hand on Stoick's arm. "I think we all know that. Has he woken?"

"No. He's sick. He's sick, and I need to get him home. We'll build a raft." The words were energizing. A day's ride from Berk. They could get there. He turned to the rest of the beach. "Gather what you can find. Rope, metal. We're leaving as soon as we can."

The reaction was immediate. Good. The men listened well that way.

He walked back up the beach. There were the children, apparently waiting for him. Questions about Hiccup, he imagined. And he had nothing to say. And there were the dragons they had taken, had flown, out here. He approached them, and couldn't help but enjoy the way they cowered back.

"Who thinks they could fly a dragon back?" he demanded.

Five hands shot into the air. So confident after a single night.

"I need someone to go back. Find people to bring the rest of the ships out there. Lead them out."

"I want to stay with Hiccup," Astrid said quickly.

Stoick smiled at that. She was a nice girl, one of the best in the village. He had expected her to be the first to volunteer, but apparently not. So there was something womanly about her after all. "All right."

"I'll go," said Tuffnut.

"And you'll take your sister with you," Stoick said before any bickering could start. "Go now." He turned back up the beach. He felt like he had been gone far too long.

"Can I see him?" Astrid asked.

He hesitated, then nodded. She would check on him. Someone had to check on him. So it happened to be her. He would go to the men. Be the chief. "Tell me how he's doing."

Work was happening quickly at the shore. The wood was organized in piles among the ash. Anything useful to putting together a raft. He gave another long look at where Hiccup lay, then ran to the shore. He needed to help.

He grabbed the wood, checked it. Long pieces, curved pieces, all sorts of pieces. Rope, metal, remains of an entire fleet. Gone, gone, gone. He had failed everyone. He snapped a piece of wood in his hand.

"You know," said Gobber, as the wood shards fell to the sand. "You don't have to be down here. You have given the command. You can be up there."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Not destroying the pieces of the raft you wanted us to build. You're in no condition to be here. You said he's getting sick now. And you're down here?"

"Where else would I be? I'm the chief. I'm in charge here. I need something as soon as possible."

"Like what? You've sent for other ships, you're building a raft. What other options do you need?"

"I just need a way to get everyone off this island. It's my job to do something." He took a deep breath. "Come with me, Gobber."

Astrid sat next to Hiccup, one hand resting on the dragon's head, the other in her lap. She was crying. Stoick had never been able to much handle girls and women crying. What was to cry over? The boy wasn't dead. Yet.

He threw back the cloak to see that leg. The blackened flesh, the crushed white bone that showed through in far too many places… he couldn't stand to look at it. How he rather it would have been him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"I told you as much last night."

"Astrid, leave," he said.

"But—"

"Leave, please."

She still remained.

"I need a sword. There's still something left of the bonfire. I'll need you to heat it. Hot as you can get it."

Her eyes widened, but she squared her shoulders and nodded.

Stoick didn't watch as she left. "I would have preferred to wait until we got home."

Gobber sighed. "The sooner the better. A wound like that could get nasty fast."

"I know."

"Would you like me to do it?"

Stoick shook his head. He didn't even want to do it, let alone allow someone else. "Just hold him down. Just in case he wakes up."

Astrid quickly returned with the sword. Her face was pale, and Stoick felt a sudden twinge of guilt. "Thank-you. I don't want you to stay. But if you'd like…"

She sniffed, ready to start another round of crying. "I'll stay."

He held the sword tight. The blade was heavy. And yes, it was plenty hot, pressed against the leg.

The dragon growled.

Stoick was not going to be bullied. Saved his son's life or not, he glared at it.

The dragon quieted. Good dragon.

Astrid's eyes were squeezed close.

Then Stoick cut.

Amazing how easy it was.

Hiccup didn't stir.

And soon it was done, quicker than Stoick had expected. The abomination of flesh and bone put to fire was gone. He had done what he had needed to do.

He could hardly stand it.

"Astrid," he said as he stood up.

Her eyes were still closed. "Yes?"

"Back through the rocks before the island was a ship."

"A ship?"

"Old ship of ours. Hung up. See if you can't take those dragons and knock it down."

Her eyes snapped open, careful to avoid Hiccup. "What? Why?"

Already questioning the chief. Hiccup was a bad influence. "Just see if you can get it down."

"Sir, you already sent the twins for other ships."

"I know."

"It would be nice to have it back."

She nodded. "I'll go. Is Hiccup going to be all right?"

"I hope so."

He hated to do this to her, sending her back and forth on errands. He stared out into the water. The ash fell more lightly. No storms could be seen approaching. Soon, three dragons took to the air and into the rocks.

Stoick turned back to Hiccup. Gobber had wrapped up the remainder of that leg. Hiccup was not going to be happy.

Well, that couldn't be helped. Stoick put a hand on Hiccup's head. Warm. Shivering and still warm. He hoped he had done the right thing.

"You're having them knock down an old ship?" Gobber asked derisively. "For what purpose?"

Stoick shrugged. "I can't even tell you. I just want it down."

"And repair it here?"

"I don't care if they completely destroy it. I just want to know what those dragons can do."

And so it was destroyed. Astrid returned an hour later, arguing loudly with Snotlout while Fishlegs simply looked nervous.

"That Nightmare of his smashed it into a rock," Astrid said. "Completely splintered it."

"As if I'm in charge of the Nightmare!" Snotlout shouted back.

"But you got it down?" Stoick asked. The raft was coming together, slowly but sturdily. At least some of them had shipbuilding talent. Or raft-building talent.

"That was the easy part," said Fishlegs. "Just a little pressure and leverage and away she went. Then the Nightmare knocked it into another rock."

"But you got it down." Stoick smiled for the first time in a day.

The raft was finished at noon. It was an impressive thing, Stoick had to admit. Amazing what a bunch of very determined Vikings could do. Men floated it in the water, testing it. It was sturdy. It would hold. It was small enough to get through the rocks, back to Berk.

But all he could do was stare at it. There he was, feet already in the water, the raft just by him and everyone also staring at it. Yes, it would certainly do. They had all done well.

"Whoever will brave it will go," he commanded whomever would listen. "Just get my son back home. Hopefully the ships are on their way."

No one moved. He hated it when they did that, that blunt action of not following orders without actually refusing to do something. He had seen it before, he headed a stubborn village, but he had always had the words before.

"You'll be the ones to reach Berk first. Help bring the rest of us back. Make sure Hiccup gets to the doctor." He strode up the beach, determined. There was Hiccup and that Toothless dragon. Hiccup still hadn't awoken. Why hadn't he awoken? He carefully picked him up, surprised at just how light he was. Not just the loss of the leg. It was like holding him as a baby again, head resting in the crook of his arm.

The dragon watched it.

Stoick nodded. "Come on."

He had never imagined himself in this position, a dragon following him like a dog. A docile dog, timid and obedient. He placed Hiccup on the center of the raft. The dragon jumped on next. The raft tilted in mild protest, but it was sturdy. What better test than a dragon?

"Who's going?" Stoick asked, gazing out over the men. "That dragon takes up most of the raft. We only need a few volunteers."

No one made a sound. But their eyes were on him, not questioning or fearful. But as if they expected him to do something. Like go on the raft. Without any of them. No. He was the chief. It was his duty to make sure everyone got off. He'd stay for the other ships and wait. He prepared the command again in his mind, all the power he could summon. He would speak it and they would listen and they would obey.

"He's your son," someone said.

It was hardly as if he were leaving Hiccup back here to rot. "We're all going to get off anyway eventually. We're hardly in danger here with that… that thing dead."

Exactly, came the unbidden thought. He tried to shake it away. "The teenagers. They can return. Tell them to take the dragons back." The staring competition with everyone was getting awkward. "Oh, fine," he muttered and climbed on the raft.

He felt like a traitor abandoning his tribe. No one did that. It was cowardly. He should have kicked off the dragon. Forced people to come. But doubtfully the dragon would have stood for it.

The paddling was the easy part. The raft glided in and out of the rocks, never touching one of them. He hated them. All these years of hunting through them, trying to find the damned nest… he never wanted to see them again.

The dragon lay in the raft's center, tail, free of the ruined prosthetic, wrapped protectively around Hiccup.

That dragon had done more to protect the boy than Stoick ever had. He still did not know what had happened up there, but that dragon had saved Hiccup's life. Stoick had never had that opportunity. No, it was not an opportunity. It was the worst thing possible. No father would ever ask for that opportunity, to put have a child in danger just so he could prove his devotion.

But the moment had come, and it had been the dragon who had done the great rescue. Stoick was grateful. Of course he was grateful. This was a debt that could never be repaid.

And Stoick had caused it.

He slashed the paddle through the water, hardly making an impact against the still surface. He had caused it. Everything had gone wrong because of him. Unable to listen to a single intelligent word uttered at him.

Now here he was in this mess of rocks paddling through ash-filled water, his injured son and his dragon. His injured son who had nearly died and still possibly could.

Time passed slowly through the maze. He could not believe how slowly. They never seemed to end. The day before he had gone through them so quickly. Was he lost? No, the dragon was alert, eyes gazing along the path. Stoick just wanted out. He wanted Hiccup back in the village, in the care of someone who knew what they were doing, back at home where he belonged.

He could at least give that.

"You were there," he muttered to the dragon. "You were there the entire time and I wasn't. I need to do what I can now."

He turned the raft past another stone. "I shouldn't be here. I should be back there with my men. They made me go." He sighed. Who else would have gone? He would have trusted any of them with Hiccup. But they had all but forced him to go. He, the chief. He laid the paddle down on the raft and pressed his head into his hands. Sent alone just to take one wounded person to safety. That wasn't sensible. There were so many more to protect.

But they'd be fine on that island.

As if in response, shouting came from above. The twins, arguing and calling directions.

And through the rocks, mist, and still-falling ashes, the shadow of a ship.

Stoick moved Hiccup's bed to the main room. Downstairs. No stairs for awhile. He hated that thought. But there was more room. Stoick could keep a closer eye on him. Not that he was doing much. But that leg had been cleaned. It was healing. The fever had gone down. Hiccup just wouldn't wake up.

And that dragon was there, constantly. Toothless. Toothless was always there. So Stoick could leave, for as short a time as he dared. He still hated to leave. Thank goodness for the dragon.

As for the rest of the dragons, they were useful. A lot more useful than when working with an old ship. It became a game, a pastime to do while waiting for Hiccup to awaken, to convince the dragons to lift a beam or carry a tool. They could be so docile. Stoick hadn't expected that.

He placed a chair by the bed. He hadn't thought about it, he had just done it. He had never spent much time inside the house. What was it for? Cooking, sleeping, things that could just as easily be done elsewhere. Who cared if the dragon destroyed it with those wings and tail and all that dragon-ness? He could watch the dragon from the chair.

He hadn't meant to spend much time there. But it happened. Hours spent watching Hiccup sleep away his injuries. He even slept there, head against the back wall. Not the best way to rest especially if one were in charge of the village.

But no one complained. Probably no one dared.

He'd go out and help with all the projects. He always had. He just needed a few days first. As Hiccup's condition improved, he'd leave more often.

Right now the village would be fine without him.

The End