Jack has found a companion in Hiccup. No longer alone in his fight, how will the boy change his life to let Hiccup in. Or will Jack's past blunders be too much? Will he push away his only friend?

One Day, The Life We Have, Will Be Gone

Chapter Two: A Companion To Walk With On The Road To Hell

Jack

Calm and quiet days were few and far between. They were meant to be peaceful and relaxing; something treasured in this fight or die world. They were meant to be spent resting and recuperating, maybe sleeping, or reading one of Jack's books, that he had collected and horded in his Castle Attic.
Quiet days, without the fear of Rift Soldiers or Raider attacks, were supposed to be spent with the sense of relief of not having to watch over his shoulder for threats and anything else that might want to bring the boy to harm. The evasive moments, rare and precious, could be better spent counting supplies or planning routes.
They should be spent sorting through information on Rift convoys and bases.
They were meant to be spent updating Jack's vast collection of maps, planning attacks and fixing equipment, tools and weapons. Experimenting and improving them.
Moments like these…

They weren't meant to be spent glancing at a slow ticking watch every five minutes or less. They weren't meant to be spent rushing to the window every time there was a distant noise, that could've sounded like someone was approaching. Like someone rustling through the branches of the tree as they climbed, or the sounds of footsteps on the roof tiles as someone nimbly stole across the rooftops to the entrance of the attic hideout.
They weren't meant to be spent endlessly worried about a boy who may, or may not come back home. Home…

Jack sighed, quietly putting down his tools and the crossbow he had been fiddling with. He couldn't really concentrate on what he was doing. Besides, the calibration on the sights was all but perfect, so he didn't need to continue to worry about it. Not that he was worried in the first place.
Jack was just trying to do anything that could distract his wandering mind. To stop himself from staring out the window. Reading novels just couldn't cut it. Neither could sorting through old gear and clothing that was taking up space. Even going through old 'how to' books that had hints and tips Jack still hadn't memorised.

This wasn't like him.
It wasn't like Jack to fret and worry about Hiccup; someone who he had never met before. Someone who he barely knew. Yes, they may have spent the night talking, gossiping like old friends over a tin of fruit, reminiscing like an old married couple.

But Jack still knew barely anything about him.
He knew that Hiccup was nineteen, just like him.
He knew that he was a Survivor, running from the Rift, just like him.
He knew that Hiccup was looking for his family, holding onto the fragile hope that one day, the World would heal and life would return, to as he knew it should.
Just like Jack did….

It wasn't like Jack to worry. But he did.
Over Hiccup and his own clouded thoughts. Was he really so fragile as to latch onto Hiccup like a lifeline? Was his life really so brittle that just the moments of normality had hindered the salt-haired teen enough that he was incapable of focusing on surviving?
Did he latch onto Hiccup because he was strong? Because maybe Hiccup was someone who he wouldn't have to worry about. But that wasn't true. Because Jack was worried now.
Maybe he had connected with him because, in Hiccup, he saw a little of himself.
Was that it?

Or was it desperation? The crippling loneliness after so long that anyone would do. Anyone, just so that they could fill that void in his heart and his body. Anyone….
So why was it, that Jack could only think of Hiccup?

Jack sighed to himself, rubbing his hand through his hair and over his eyes. He was tired. Drained. But it would not do.
The boy put his tools back in his bag, slipping the crossbow onto the frame around his wrist. Days with no Rift activity should not be taken lightly. And they certainly should not be wasted.

Jack had better things to be doing than waiting. He should be stocking up on supplies. If not, then there were plenty of other jobs that could be done, especially since he had the time to tend to his old territory.
He could go to the other houses he had converted into storage hordes, and stock up on supplies.
He could go and check on his deer pen and check the surrounding perimeter.
Not impatiently waiting for Hiccup to return.

With that in mind, Jack got up. He needed to force himself to work, if not the day would go by in the blink of an eye. Nothing would change even if Hiccup did return. Or if he didn't…

Jack moved to his clothing stash, pulling out a pair of his favourite black cargo pants. They were a little worn in places, and had been reinforced with shin and knee pads and considerable amounts of duct tape that Jack had salvaged way back. He pulled on one layer after another, salvaging a comfortable pair of running shoes after his old ones were starting to let in the rain. The grips had been worn away as well. He grabbed his tool kit, his weapon pack and an emergency supply of food and fresh water, just in case he couldn't make it back to base.

This was what he should be doing. Remember why he was alive. Remember why he was fighting.

Fight to survive.
Survive to fight.

The perimeter was clear. The fences were still all intact, even after the couple of months that Jack had left this place as he had ventured further and further from his home. There were the odd breaks here and there, but they were small; barely big enough to allow small creatures through.
Maybe Hiccup had even made one, to allow passage for his wolves, although Jack couldn't find any. It worried him slightly, that the predators had broken in so easily, but reminded himself that they had a Human helping them. Hiccup should get some credit at least.

Jack patched the breaks none-the-less, hiding the weaker points with foliage on both sides. As he ventured around, the boy stripped any mint plants and aloes that he could find. Any seeds and handfuls of berries were planted also, for future visits. Some were pocketed to spread elsewhere, as well as planted back at the Base. It always helped for more food for the Free-Breathers.

Jack visited the old gardens and orchards, stripping vegetable patches that had grown wild in his absence. He weeded the grounds and the grass that surrounded the fruit trees; picking the sweeter fruits to enjoy there and then. Medicinal plants were cultured and houses were revisited. Always.
In case Jack missed something. Silverware, knickknacks. Tinned food, batteries. Even mundane things like bars of soap, toothpaste and hand mirrors. Treasures that Jack would take back to the base camp for the children and the others to appreciate, more than he could.
Children's toys. Children's books. Tins of wall paints, crayons, paper. Stuffed toys and photo frames. Things that would make the base camp more homely.

Jack's old home town was a gold mine. It was one of the very few towns that had been, for some unknown reason, left untouched by the Rift Soldiers. Even now, so many years later, the place had been left to be reclaimed by the Earth.

Jack didn't know why. Or maybe, he did. But he wouldn't admit it to himself…

Even the deer pen, after all these months, was still intact. There were no breaks, no damage from trees or weather and all of the deer were happy and thriving. The vegetation in the football pitch was continuing to support the dietary needs and shelter the beasts, but still, Jack decided to cut down a few of the smaller saplings, to give the animals more room to roam. The deer greeted Jack when he dropped into the enclosure, like a long lost friend, begging for food and treats.
The youth fed them leaves from the trees outside, counted them and petted them, before sending them on their way so that he could get to work. He stripped as much weeds from the field as he could, taking anything that might cause the deer harm. Any dead were buried before Jack climbed a growing Cedar tree and escaped from the pen to continue work.

He set up a snare near the old play park, growing wild in the years of absence of workers with lawnmowers. The rabbit population gave Jack plenty of meat for lunch. Jack skinned the creatures, taking bones for medicine, its meat as food and its fur for wrappings. Jack took the remainder of the animals and buried it near the roots of a nearby tree, covering the hole with fallen leaves before hiding it all under the earth. It was his own way of helping Mother Nature along; thanking her for helping him survive for so long. Besides, the earth helped mask the scent of rotting flesh, keeping out predators. And this way, any disease wasn't as likely to spread.

Hiccup still hadn't returned by midday. Jack had finished the tasks he had set for himself, and returned to the attic to unload his horde, met with the same still silence that he had left in. It was better not to dwell on it, the boy told himself, locking the attic window behind him, putting down his bag and unhooking his miniature crossbow from his wrist.
He busied himself with storing the plants and seeds in his medicine pouch. He cut the rabbit meat and set it to boil on his makeshift stove, made in the skeleton of the chimney breast. Jack prepared vegetables and added them to the broth as well. He left the fire to burn till an ember, and set to work packing his bags to take more supplies to camp.

Anything he had collected or deemed useful to the others was pushed into the bottom: the books wrapped in plastic bags or small squares of tarpaulin. He'd made that mistake once, and several copies of good reads had become kindling and doodle paper.

Even when the stew was done, Hiccup hadn't returned.
There was no hide or hair of him, nor his wolves. Jack wasn't worried. He was just… lonely.

The hideout was cold and empty after last night. The rafters were silent, the window only inviting in shallow Autumn breezes. It never had been, but now, with the sudden disappearance of the Brunette, it just seemed so uninviting.
The boy couldn't stand it. He packed up his gear once more and took off.
This time, for the lake.

On the way, he carried out his usual chores of searching for more medicinal herbs, and edible plants to keep up his strength. Little and often.
Jack kept an eye out for predator tracks. Hopefully none that would harm his deer. There was no such tracks, and the lake was clam and serene like usual. The current rainy season had forced the feeding river to flood its banks, and even the lake had risen several feet.
Luckily, it lay on the other side of a shallow valley that Jack had dug out himself, meaning any excess water would flow past the town and not into it. It wouldn't do to flood the fields and drown his crops. Not when he wasn't there to help them survive.

Jack's usual favourite spot was flooded with rain water, so he found himself another; perched on the end of a fallen tree, the bows and branches giving way to show him the calm surface of the fresh water lake. Shoals of rainbow trout and river fish swam here, meaning Jack's afternoon of fishing was worthwhile. He didn't keep any though. He already had rabbit meat. The fish would just end up going off before he ate it…

The boy cast his eyes to the hill on the other side of the lake. On it, stood the shell of a house, still standing proud and well out of reach of the risen water levels. The garden wall was disguised beneath a protective cloak of vines and ivy. The garden gate was left open, as if inviting Jack inside. Through the gate, along the front path to the front door. Which hung from one hinge, carelessly laid blocking the lower window to the porch…

Inviting Jack inside, into the empty and destroyed house that was once his.

Empty. But full of memories.

Painful and agonising memories of his baby sister, loving mother and Father, who had died long ago, but was still loved all the same. Memories of times before the war, where he and Emma would fish on the lake as he did now, catching minnows with nets and swimming in the waters in the spring and summer.
Autumn time. Warming their toes by the fire after chasing each other through the falling leaves, creating large piles of golden leaves to jump in.
Winter nights were spent in front of the TV, discussing school and friendships and the really irritating length of her hair that meant she couldn't plait it or style it like all the other girls in school.

When Jack would hug her tighter and tell her that she was beautiful the way she was. Inside and out. She didn't need to change her hair to prove anything. "Don't be a sheep Emma. Don't follow everyone else. Strive to make your own path. Stand up and stand out."
"But what can I be if I'm not a sheep?"

"Whatever you want to be?"
"I want to be a bird!"

"A bird?"
"Yes, a bird. Then I can fly wherever I want, wherever I want. I can chase the sunset and travel to faraway places, just like Dad. Maybe I can find him, and bring him back home."
"Maybe. Anything's possible."

"Hey Jack."
"Yeah?"
"What do you want to be?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe…"

A splash on the lake's surface broke Jack's thoughts. He looked up to the sunset, listening to the echoes of Emma's words. The house stood still and silent.
In the growing darkness, Jack could almost fool himself into thinking that all was right with the world and he could stroll around the bank and up the driveway. Mom would scold him for staying out so late but she would hug him and kiss him and tell him not to make her worry.
Emma would be bouncing around the room, hyper on sweets she had nicked from Jack's super-secret supply, bugging him to play with her. But not before Mom calls them both to the dinner table. They would say grace and wish Father peace.
They would eat happily and talk about their day. Jack would tell Mom of his day at school and Emma would show everyone what she had painted or made out of pasta and rainbow string.

And they would be happy. The three of them would be happy, and everything would be perfect in their complete little world.

With the threat of incoming cloud cover, Jack decided that he had had enough. Besides, the memories had made him feel sad and gloomy, and now he was just feeling mentally drained.
But still Emma and Mom filled his mind. He wondered what the three of them would be doing now, if the Eradication had never happened.
Emma would be in school by now. Jack, college. Mom would still be working as a waitress or bartender, doing odd jobs where she could. But she enjoyed it. She liked stacking books at the book shop. She liked changing bedsheets in the local hospital.
Or maybe Mom had finally saved enough money to attend college and get her medical degree, like she always wanted. Maybe she was a trainee nurse by now. Maybe she had someone to fill the space that Dad had left.

Maybe Emma had found someone too. Someone who she could confess everything to. The other half of her heart. Hopefully Jack would like him. Or tease him and scare him a little to make sure he did really care for his baby sister.
Jack could even have his own partner. Lover, fiancé. Perhaps even married, with a child on the way.
The thought left a hole somewhere in Jack's chest.

But what if the Eradication had happened, and Jack had been able to save them.
Emma and Mom would be waiting in the base camp, hoping he would be home soon…
No they wouldn't. There wouldn't even be a base camp. Because Jack would've never survived on his own for five years. He would have his mom and his kid sister. They wouldn't have followed Jack's path.
The three of them would probably still have been killed by the Rift, or taken to Pitch's empire. Because if Mom and Emma were still alive…

In truth, one that Jack would never truly admit to himself, he was thankful that his mother and sister had died when they did. At least neither had to live in this broken world.
They died, deluded by their perfect paradise. There was no harm in living for as long as they did and dying the way they did. It was an easy life for them.
As it was for everyone who died when the killing first began. Before everyone really knew what was happening. Before the panic could settle in, before the true fear could drown them…

Yes. It was better that Emma and Mom were no longer around.

That way, Jack did meet Aster and Tooth, which was intended. That way, Jack helped them free North from the bunker, controlled by the Rift, only to turn around and take it over for their base. That way, there was a home for the survivors. There was a resistance.

There was someone still fighting.

The path back to the attic was familiar, yet still difficult. The ground hadn't been able to dry out yet, meaning it was still muddy and slippery. The bag on Jack's back threatened to topple him many times, but he didn't fall. He continued on, ignoring the voice in his head to turn back.
Just turn back and check. Maybe it is all just a dream.
Maybe they are alive, living in the house, waiting for you.

Just check…

But every time Jack checked, the lights would be off and the house empty. Abandoned. As it always was.

He didn't check this time.

He continued on, finding the familiar road that would take him back to the edge of town. The boy's head was too filled with useless thoughts to be wary, to be listening out for the sound of approaching footsteps; be it predator or Rift. It didn't occur to him that he was out in the open, that anything could be watching him from the shelters of the darkness of the undergrowth.
He didn't think he was in danger. He didn't sense the second presence watching him, with calculating eyes. He had been watching for a while. And even if the smell of fish had tempted him from his hiding place, he had resisted and continued to stalk the boy. It didn't matter if Hiccup trusted him.
Toothless was still cautious….

Jack spun around, his knife out, his eyes wide as he caught sight of two amber orbs staring back at him. He had heard the sound; the hiss of grass, the cracking of a twig. He had seen the black wolf that was stalking him, pushed low to the ground, hiding in the shadows, trying not to be noticed.
The creature cocked its head to one side, regarding the knife with distaste, although it was more curiosity when it turned its gaze to Jack.

"Is Hiccup back?" the boy asked, as if the wolf could respond to him. It did, in its own way; standing from its hiding spot. The creature brushed past Jack smoothly, a low rumble in its throat.
Warning or something else, Jack couldn't tell. His eyes searched for the second. If Hiccup wasn't here, would the creatures attack?

Jack sensed the danger. The knife in his hand suddenly didn't seem enough. It was tiny, its only purpose meant to be for cutting fishing lines and whittling wood. Not killing a giant wolf creature armed with razor fangs and powerful jaws. An agile, deadly creature, to which Jack was at its mercy.
But the wolf didn't strike. He lifted his ears, tilting its head up at the sound of a wolf cry. The second. The black wolf responded in kind, its head turned West.

"Is Hiccup back?"
The creature perked his ears up at his master's name, turning back to fix the boy with a quizzical look. "Back at the hideout?" Jack mumbled, unconsciously lowering his knife as he turned to look at the roof of his old castle.

Suddenly, the boy began to walk. It was like he was being pulled back to the attic. Hiccup was waiting for him. It wouldn't be cold and lonely. They'd chat and laugh like they had the night before. It would be warm, and comforting. They would share stories…
Jack skipped quickly across the uneven ground, racing the wolf back to town. They ran side by side, both leading and being led, showing each other the quickest paths down the hillside into town.
They reached the hideout quickly, manoeuvring through the streets as if following a simple path. The black wolf slipped into the garden, disappearing into a hole in the rotten wood of the house foundations, as Jack headed for the tree. He climbed nimbly and quickly; his eluded thoughts doing nothing to tamper with his abilities to navigate his way up, between the branches.

Jack leapt onto the roof top, dropping into the attic, already grinning at the sight of the crouched figure waiting in the middle of the room.
"And here I was thinking you got lost," Jack laughed, standing up, taking his bag from his back and settling it on the floor. He closed the windows, moving further into the attic. "Where did you go…?"
But the boy's question faded on his lips when Hiccup stood up. There was a dark sticky substance on his right shoulder. A pungent smell clung to it like–

Hiccup turned to face the boy by the window, smiling softly underneath a bloody and muddy mask. Jack's eyes grew wide at the sight of the sizeable gash in the brunette's hairline. The blood traced lines down his chin, onto his leather armour.
There were more marks covering his hands and arms.
New bruises. New cuts and scrapes. There was a cut on his lip and one near the corner of his left eye.

"You're injured!" Jack wailed, rushing to Hiccup's side, pulling him closer so that he could inspect the wound. "It's nothing," Hiccup murmured with a smile, his eyes watching Jack's hands work calmly, pushing past Hiccup's hair, revealing the cut beneath.
It was smaller than what Jack had first imagined, thankfully. But the amount of blood painting Hiccup's face like a Viking warrior was enough to make him panic nonetheless.

"It's not nothing, it looks serious," the boy pressed anyway, dragging Hiccup over to his supplies. "Just let me look at it."
Jack forced Hiccup to sit in the middle of the room as he fetched candles and medicinal gear. Bandages, antiseptic and painkillers. He put a pot of fresh water on his make-shift stove and threw on kindling to get the flames on high.

"What happened?" Jack asked, lighting the candles. He placed them on a footstool next to Hiccup, giving himself light to work. He seemed to hesitate, as if debating whether or not to tell Jack.
"Gun," the Brunette answered, his voice hollow. The white-haired boy turned silently, alert with fear.

"Rift?"
Hiccup nodded, not offering anything more, simply watching quietly as Jack turned and fumbled for whatever was in his medicine box.
The boy in question was trying not to show his fear as he thought about what he needed to do to stem the bleeding, trying not to think what it meant that Hiccup had been shot by the Rift.
How close were they? Were they the same Rift that had hunted Jack all the way from the river in the North?

Quickly, Jack rushed to the windows. He pulled down the blinds and double locked the entrance, all the while checking the street below for Rift. There was nothing. The street was empty and the night quiet.
"They're all dead," Hiccup said quietly, watching Jack. He looked guilty. And he felt guilty, for making the boy panic. But he wasn't about to lie about what had happened.

"What were you doing getting so close?" Jack growled, snatching the hot water from the fire pit. He advanced on the brunette, sitting opposite him. Hiccup did nothing as Jack reached for an antiseptic wipe.

"Hunting," the teen began. "They weren't a large party, but they had dogs with them. We managed to take out the dogs first. Picking off the rest was meant to be easy."
"Then what about all this?" Jack demanded, pointing at the wounds. Hiccup scowled. "They were better trained than the grunts we've taken out before. They were quicker and harder to take down. But we managed to," Hiccup smiled, as if that was all that mattered.
"You should've avoided them," Jack said, narrowing his eyes at the bullet trail. "Hypocrite."

The wound was superficial. The burn of the bullet's path had sealed some of the blood anyway, giving less work for Jack. He washed the wound and put a bandage on it to be safe.
"I don't need–"
"It's for infection," Jack growled, pushing slightly harder than he should have. Hiccup flinched but let the matter drop.

"I didn't mean to get myself hurt. I was just taking on Rift, like I've always done," he said, setting his jaw in a straight line as Jack began to wipe away the blood from the head wound. "You're an idiot for doing that. You've could've easily died. Don't just go around, throwing your life away."

Jack couldn't tell where his anger was coming from. It wasn't justified.
Hiccup had every right to do what he wanted. He had no obligations to Jack, or to anyone, to avoid the Rift.
Jack had no right, because he did the same damn thing.

"And are you not the same?" Hiccup challenged, bringing up the very thoughts Jack had as he lowered Hiccup's hands into the warm water to wash the cuts there.
"You deliberately attack the Rift. You break into their encampments and salvage what you can. Are you not risking your own life as much as I am risking mine?"
"I can. I have no one that will miss me if I die."

Hiccup's eyes darkened. "And am I not the same?"
"Of course not!" Jack didn't realise he was shouting. He didn't realise he was on his feet, glaring down at the teen, who rose to his feet just as Jack had done. "What do you think I would feel if you died?" The echo of words faded slowly. Jack's anger faded too, at the sudden realisation of what he had just confessed. It sounded like they were together.
"I- well, I mean, you have your brothers to look out for. What would they do if you died and left them alone?" Jack's blush was all too obvious. Even in the dim candlelight Hiccup would be able to see the redness in his ears. He could feel the heat himself. Even when he turned from the other teen, he couldn't hide the embarrassment he felt–
"I'm sorry." Hiccup spoke quietly and softly, leaning in as he wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him into a hug. "I didn't meant to scare you. It's just, you said that this place was like a second home to you and that you'd do anything to protect it… I just wanted to help." Blushing and embarrassment aside, Jack forgave Hiccup pretty quickly after that.

The white-haired teen worked in silence to prepare the food, reheating the stew. He leant Hiccup some normal clothes, giving the boy some privacy so that he could change out of his armour, busying himself with food and clearing up the medicine from earlier. He even set aside some deer meat for Hiccup to take down to the wolves.
He was acting normal.

Everything was normal. It was fine.
Everything was fine...

Everything, was not fine. Jack was suddenly hyper aware of Hiccup. He could hear him, shuffling about, placing his clothes in a pile, ready to wash himself down with the warm water and towel Jack had provided.

The boy was aware of the urges to look. But why? Was this because of his loneliness? After so long, was his heart just latching onto the first human that came close?

Something told Jack it was more than that. But nothing told him exactly what. Like an indescribable need. An itch that just got worse the more Jack tried to ignore it, trying to do nothing about it….

"Smells good." Hiccup appeared from behind Jack, sniffing at the food inquisitively.
"Careful jackass," Jack hissed, stepping back. "It's dangerous! Be careful."
The anger wasn't real. It was Jack's embarrassment again. But nonetheless, the bare-skinned Hiccup backed off, laughing under his breath.

"Is this for Toothless and Cloud?" he asked, snatching up a chunk of uncooked meat, sniffing it inquisitively. "Yeah. Take it down to them whilst I plate up ours."

The weather was growing colder. Chilling winds howled from the North, bringing the cold with them. It wasn't inviting, persuading Jack that another day spent cooped up in the attic wasn't too bad of an idea.
It was warm there, with duvets and the fire, and his books to keep him company. As well as Hiccup. Jack had expected the boy to be gone by first light, as he had the day before, but a lazy day was just as inviting to the Brunette as it was to the white-haired teen.

Neither of them mentioned the Rift of the End of the World just beyond the window panes. Instead, the two relaxed with little to do. They lay amongst the duvet pile together, noses buried in different books. Jack reread his old favourites whilst Hiccup discovered new adventures. At first, he was hesitant, unable to get comfortable, but soon, he was lost in the stories of magic and secrets, trolls and flying broomsticks….

Jack enjoyed distractions like these. He remembered when he would lose himself in books, just to forget. If only for a moment…
But for some reason, Jack couldn't relax. He couldn't keep calm. He couldn't lay still. He kept fidgeting, his legs kicking out, his hands trying to find something to toy with….
Jack forced himself up, out from the sanctuary of warm bedding. He climbed into a hoodie, smiling at the obliviousness of Hiccup; still nose deep in the literature of his choosing.

Packing. That's what he could do. Ready himself for the journey ahead. Jack had mentioned the camp and Hiccup, inquisitive, had asked if he could go as well.
They were heading out tomorrow. The least he could do was start to take extra supplies to camp for the survivors; clothes and shoes that were too small, books and texts that he knew off by heart.
Treasures and trinkets for everyone. Medicine supplies. As much as he could pack.
No food. Jack could pick that up on the way. Hunting on the go. Making sure there was less to carry, as not to wear himself out. Did what he always did. Survive to fight. Fight to survive…

"What are you doing?" the sudden question startled Jack at first. It seemed as though Hiccup had realised Jack was no longer distracting himself with the novels, looking to where he sat, surrounded by supplies which he was trying to fit into a backpack that was not going to fight everything…
"I'm packing ready to set out," Jack explained, turning away from the inquisitive green eyes. They bore into him, asking too many silent questions. Hiccup voiced none, but it was clear to the teen that the boy wasn't satisfied with the short answer.
He continued to watch as Jack put the remainder of the clothes into the bottom of the bag, followed by the books, wrapped in plastic bags in hopes to save them from bad weather conditions, should Jack face any on his journey back to camp.

"So how long does it take to get to this camp in the mountains?" Hiccup asked, unravelling the duvet, emerging from the blanket cocoon. He yawned and stretched, putting his book back on the shelf, next to the remainder of the collection; worn yet well kept.
Jack watched him slowly, trying to detect the tone of his voice.

"One weeks, as long as the weather holds out," he replied, packing the rest quickly.
"We'll be following the river upstream until the waterfalls. It gets harder as we go and if rains hits, then it can push as back to three, maybe four weeks. That's why I want to head out soon. If this is the start of the bad weather, I want to cross as much ground as possible before it gets too muddy and hard to walk on."

Hiccup nodded as if he understood what Jack was saying. He lay back on the duvet, staring at the ceiling, thinking to himself. Jack left him to it; heading towards his clothing trunk for new trousers and tops.

"You're so calm about all of this," came Hiccup's voice; a thoughtful murmur, said simply as an observation. "I have to be," Jack replied, not looking up from his task. "If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have survived this long."
"Always on your own."
"For the last two years, yes."

"Why?"

The sad question caught Jack off guard. He kept his head turned, his head filled with her voice, screaming over and over, over and over…
"It's better this way," Jack replied bluntly. "No one to slow me down. No one to get in my way."
"Sounds lonely."
Hiccup had the precision of a sniper. He shot at all of Jack's weak points, hitting him where it hurt the most. The same thoughts that tortured him constantly.

"It is. But it is for the best."
"But you still worry about them. Your family back at camp."
Jack nodded. "Of course. They are my family." He could feel himself getting bothered by Hiccup's words. It sounded like the teen was trying to imply something. The questions he asked. The words he used.
Of course Jack was allowed to worry. He was allowed to think about them time to time. Jack was allowed to let his mind wander; to recall memories of camp and his family before, if only to hold onto his humanity.
He could feel himself fading sometimes. An instinct rising deep within him. Kill.
Kill.

Memories of his family saved him. Memories of their love.
Jack clung onto those memories as long as he could. He returned when he heard news of the others. He returned with survivors and goods. Information. Treasures. Anything to help them out, to help them survive.

Survive to Fight.
Fight to kill.
Kill the Rift.

Kill the Rift- "Jack?"
Hiccup's voice broke through the boy's thoughts. His words sharp, his tone harsh, causing Jack to flinch.

What is this?
'I don't know,' Jack admitted to the voice in his head. The instinct deep inside of him.
He's breaking us.

"Jack? Are you okay?" The boy stood, moving closer to where Jack stood, shaking.
He's breaking us. We won't be able to survive if he breaks us!
"Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm always pale," Jack said in forced laughter, flinching at the sight of Hiccup's extended hand. The scars on his thumb, the burns on his palm, the wounds on his skin.

We have to break him. Break him first!
"Jack?"
Before he breaks us!

Jack could feel Hiccup's hand hovering just above his own, hesitation keeping his hands at bay.

Break him.

The sound of creaking floorboards as he took another step. "Jack?" Closer.

Break him!

"Jack!"

BREAK HIM!

"It is lonely. But it is for the best," he repeated, aware of his clenched fist.
Hiccup's fingers ghosted over Jack's skin, trying to reach out to him, but something keeping him at bay.
Jack's darkness. His unspoken desire to keep the boundaries. To keep the walls around him.

"I've got to keep packing," Jack said, shaking away the darkness from inside him. He needed to keep focused. He needed to keep his head straight. The apocalypse seemed to be doing something to Jack's head.
Since Hiccup's appearance, he hadn't been right. He wasn't as observant. He wasn't being careful. And that needed to change. If not, he was going to be caught out, and killed.
And worse, he maybe dragging Hiccup down with him.

The Brunette seemed to sense the change in Jack. He stepped away, unsure what to do now that Jack had resumed packing. He was muttering to himself, his eyes sharp, anger clear on his face.
At Hiccup? Was it something he had said? Maybe.

Jack was used to being alone for so long. He went at his own pace. And here, Hiccup was messing it up. He was asking for things, doing things, saying things. Useless things.
Hiccup was getting ahead of himself. It had been so long since he saw another Human, not in the binds of the Rift, or those so contorted by this new world they were no longer human...

He was using Jack simply to revert himself back to being normal, just as he had dreamed for so long…

Things wouldn't be normal. Things couldn't go back to the way they were.
Hiccup was just deluding himself. Stringing Jack along in the pretence that everything thing was fine and everything was normal. Raising his own hopes that maybe even his village had travelled this far and were living in the base that Jack had founded with the others. He taught himself to believe them dead, but still was buckling at the faintest glimmer of hope.

"Why did you leave the base?" Hiccup asked, taking off the clothes that Jack had given to him. A gift he couldn't accept…
"Reasons," came the boy's reply. Blunt and angry.
Anger at who? Hiccup, of course. For prying.

Trying to make conversation was an excuse. He was prying and he shouldn't.
So why couldn't he keep himself from asking questions. Because he was curious, that was why. He wanted to know more about Jack. The boy intrigued him. Not only was he the first normal-Human he had seen in what felt like forever, but there was something about him.
Something that pulled Hiccup closer. Jack felt it too, although, he refused to admit it to himself. Something that had his eyes glancing over his shoulder at the boy helping to fill a second backpack with what was unable to fit into the first.

But the white-haired teen suppressed the thoughts with excuses, just like he always did. He was lonely.
Hiccup was the closest. That was why he was latching onto him. When they went to camp, Jack would leave him there. No. Hiccup would want to stay. He would be reunited with, not necessarily his family, but he would return to a society.
Humans that created and preserved a community, hidden from the rest of the dying world.

And when Hiccup decides to stay, Jack would leave.

He would return to reality and everything will return to the way it was. The way it has been for two years. Where Jack knew who he was and what he had to do.
It was painful for Jack to accept that. Finally, after so long, he was no longer on his own.
But if Jack threw away his sanity and accepted Hiccup, the separation would be so much more heart breaking.

Jack wasn't allowed happiness. He had stolen so many others, so what right to happiness did he have? None.
That was why Jack had to take Hiccup to camp. And leave him there.

Even travelling with the boy to camp was something Jack was ready to abandon. He didn't need to travel with Hiccup. He could just send him in that direction and hope that the boy reached-
No. Jack wanted to go. He needed to go back. After a whole year.
Besides, North and Sandy would be appalled that Jack was so close yet refused to return home, sending Hiccup in his place.

Hiccup wouldn't go anyway. And he probably wouldn't be able to find the base. It was well hidden and well-guarded. The others probably wouldn't trust him.
After growing Rift activity this far South, they may believe him to be a spy and hurt him.
It wasn't their fault. Fear made people do crazy things.

So Jack would take Hiccup to the base. Jack would do what he could do for Hiccup in the short time that they would travel. He'd focus. He would get serious again and make sure that they reached the base.
Spot the enemies lurking in the shadows.
Avoid the traps.
Kill the nightmare soldiers that plagued the land…

Jack could feel it returning. The fear. The deep panic.
He didn't want to travel with Hiccup longer than he needed too. He didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want the same to happen to Hiccup.

Jack didn't want to be responsible for another life.

It was another excuse. Always, always excuses.
Why can't he and Hiccup be together? But, then again, why should they?
Why should Jack be allowed to keep Hiccup with him? Just because Jack is lonely?
It was a very selfish reason. But the truth.

Partial truth. Even Jack hadn't figured out the deeper feelings he felt. Buried deep inside of him. Similar to those that he felt for the others. For his family.
Similar, yet different.

Something strong.
Something dangerous.

Jack hadn't figured it out. Neither had Hiccup.
They thought of it as something different to what it truly was. Maybe, if they had realised what it was sooner, then things wouldn't be the way they were now.
Maybe things wouldn't have gone so wrong...

Light rainfall blessed the earth the following day. It started late at night, after the boys had tucked themselves into the duvet pile and slept till sunrise.
The ground had become soaked, making the ground muddy. It was slippery and difficult to walk on, and pushed Jack and Hiccup onto the longer grass, which soaked their trousers and boots. An unpleasant sensation as they trekked up the shallow incline of the hill.

Toothless and Cloudjumper didn't seem too fussed by the weather conditions. Instead, they seemed to be more concerned of the packs that they wore on their backs, courtesy of Hiccup, who decided the pair could help take supplies when Jack voiced that he would probably make a second trip to gather the remaining gifts.
After Hiccup pointed out the backpack he was trying to stuff them all in wasn't big enough. He had suggested his brothers carry supplies too, stating it was simply the case of adjusting a human backpack to fit a wolf; something that was apparently simple in itself.
Jack saw nothing simple about it, but let the boy do what he wanted. He had the packs spare and plenty of belts that did the job wonderfully. Hiccup had a knack for it; explaining, with a blush on his cheeks, that before the End of the World, he wanted to be an inventor.
"I even made this," he had said, gesturing to his metal attachment, now replacing his left foot. At the comment, his voice seemed to die in his throat. "And here I thought Toothless made it for you," Jack had laughed, trying to cover up the awkwardness.
It worked, and Hiccup returned to his task once more, with nothing more than a smile. It was genuine, but it was sad at the same time.

Jack didn't pry. He liked his own privacy. Hiccup obviously felt the same.

Jack left Hiccup to coax his brothers into wearing the packs whilst he suited himself up in more protective wear. He found Hiccup some new wrist guards, replacing the old leather ones that he had worn for the past three years.
It seemed convincing the wolves to cooperate was a more harrowing task than actually making the packs, as both Toothless and Cloud kept trying to bite the reigns off.

Jack laughed at the little display, slipping into the Attic once more. Leaving was just like Jack had always done. Out of the window, locking it behind him. Down the tree and into the garden.
Along the abandoned street, leading the way for Hiccup and the wolves to follow.

The rain filled the silence, solving the need for conversation. They walked in silence, with Jack up front, setting a steady pace. The group reached the edge of town, escaping the fortress walls by slipping under the fence.
Through the undergrowth, following the river Westwards. Down, into the valley, over the old bridge and into dense vegetation.

The old main roads were mainly obscured by overgrown tree and plants, but some routes were still useable. These were used, not often, but often enough, by Rift soldiers and Raiders, kept clear by the need to travel with convoys.
The roads laid out like that for miles, meaning that Jack and Hiccup needed only follow them through the valleys. The hike was spent this way for three days, camping deep in the undergrowth when night fell.
Food was hunted in the early hours of the morning. Rabbit, birds, wild dogs. Cooked meat and forest plants to snack on as they walked.

Jack appreciated Hiccup's company. It made the journey less arduous.
Cloud and Toothless made it easy to hunt. He and Hiccup barely did anything more than starting the fire and cooking the meat. Cloud and Toothless of course ate their raw, but the odd bit of warm meat was never something passed up by either predator.

The rain let up after the third day. Cold winds still blew, but the sun was warm and it beat down endlessly. With little cloud cover, Jack and Hiccup suffered under the heat, making their journey a little unpleasant, with sweat and shortness of breath.
And by that time, the road ended, meaning their trek would only get more difficult from there on out.

The group made their own path through the undergrowth, following stream trails, under and over fallen trees, past ferns and bramble bushes that disguised rocks under mossy blankets. One time too many, Jack slipped, catching his cold and rain worn hands on the rough ground. He cursed with each stumbled step, his cheeks growing hot when he did, embarrassed at his inability to walk cross-country.
It wasn't entirely is fault. Jack's head was a little preoccupied with the thoughts of what path to take. Straight to camp, or a detour. If the Rift were really close by, or maybe even Raiders, they could attack the camp if they followed the pair.

Jack would be leading them straight there. It would be his fault. And if he took a detour, he could give himself more time with Hiccup alone. Because he didn't want to be on his own.
But that was selfish. And what if something went wrong as Jack guided him towards camp. The rolling thunder clouds should've been some sort of clue that the path ahead would not be as comfortable as the path previously followed...

"I hope this storm breaks soon," Hiccup murmured, looking up into the green canopy. The heavy rainfall had forced the boys and wolves to the den of an upturned tree. The roots, entangled with soil and brambles provided shelter from the weather.
"Probably," came Jack's half-hearted reply. He wasn't quite focused. A pain behind his eyes made it a bother to think, let alone hold a conversation with another human being. Hiccup kept on with small talk, mostly once sided as Jack nodded and answered with one syllable words, rubbing his brow and trying to concentrate.

"I'll be back," he said standing up slowly, interrupting Hiccup, ignoring the questions that followed him. The wolves raised their heads, watching Jack wade out into the wilderness, remaining with Hiccup in the dryness provided by the tree.
No words were exchanged, but silently, Cloudjumper stood. He stretched, nuzzled Hiccup quickly, before trotting out into the rain, following the figure of the white-haired boy.

The downpour stunted the distance Jack could see. The uneven ground of the wet mountain forest would make it nearly impossible to run... but Jack wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't thinking about anything as he wandered through the bracken, heading in an upwards direction. Uphill.
He hadn't noticed Cloud following him as he gazed out across the landscape, noticing the river flowing swiftly away from them. They were nearing the mountain valley.

Somehow, they had got closer to the base than Jack had predicted. It saddened him a little, to think that his time with Hiccup was drawing to a close.
Anxious feelings pooled in his stomach. Nausea at the thought of visiting his family. Seeing their faces and the hidden doubts and accusations behind their eyes.
Jack didn't want to see it again. But he knew he had to. To take Hiccup to somewhere safe.

Lost in his thoughts, Jack continued to wander. Past fallen trees and knots of tussock. Past berry bushes and snares and traps and-
A gunshot echoed out through the valley. A rifle shot. The empty echoes resonated off the hills. Birds fled to the skies in panic. Creatures scattered as an animals' cry of pain joined the echoes of the gunshot.

Jack ducked into the ground, seeking refuge in a ditch created by a fallen tree. He hand dropped to his side….
There was nothing there. Jack looked down to his empty hand.

No gun.
No bag.
No food.

All he had was his crossbow, still mounted to the frame on his arm. The boy's mind went blank. He didn't have a bag or a pack. He didn't have his emergency supply of food, and the only weapons he carried was his crossbow and a switchblade.

Jack was out in the open.
And he was completely defenceless.

Jack had never done anything like this before. Not in all the time he had survived on his own.

Fight to survive.
Survive to fight.

Something was changing him. Changing within him.
And the silver boy knew what it was. That something in him.
The hole that had been filled by Hiccup since they had first met on the road that led to his castle. The first words spoken like old friends, the stories shared over a gesture of kindness in the form of a tin of fruit.
The loneliness that had been stamped out, like a bad nightmare. The closeness that comforted him. The soft words, the gentle smiles.
The feelings that things could change.

Jack's life could change. That he no longer had to look over his shoulder like some prey being stalked...

Jack knew things wouldn't change. But being with Hiccup, it had clouded his judgement. He wasn't thinking straight. He wasn't thinking at all.
His head was too tangled in thoughts to realise that what he was doing was dangerous. He was being selfish. He was endangering someone else, even after Jack had sworn so many times that he wouldn't…

Jack forced himself to concentrate, positioning the crossbow, loading it, his other hand gripping the hilt of his switchblade as he pulled it from the sheath in his boot.
Beside him, footsteps thundered, just as a beige blur slipped past him, ducking into the ditch beside the teen. Jack's initial reaction was to attack the wolf, but Cloud must've expected that. He was well out of arms reach, growling low in his throat.

Jack recognised him and turned away, trying to find the true source of danger. But a tightness around his waist pulled him back. Cloud had taken his hoodie in his maw and was dragging him back, deeper into the ditch, beneath the stray branches of saplings and holly bushes. The sharpness scratched at Jack's skin, drawing thread lines of blood.
"Stop," he hissed, batting the creature away. But a noise silenced him.

Calls that echoed in the old forest. Men laughing loudly, shouting to others who joined in. A pack of Hunters closing in on their prey. How did they get so close?

Jack let himself be pulled further into the ditch, his eyes focused on the entrance, listening to the far off voices. Rift or Raiders, he didn't know, but they weren't voices he knew.
No one from camp. They weren't as open about their activities as these people. They hunted stealthily. They worked quietly as not to draw attention to themselves. Not like these...

Jack could see them in the distance. Between the trees and the thin layer of mist from rainfall, he could see Humans walking towards him. Not directly, but their general direction would take them past his hiding place.
The boy lay deadly silent, listening to the hushed growl of Cloud, who had laid his body beside the teen, sheltering himself from the enemies' sight.

Jack didn't know how many there were. He didn't know if they would spot him. He didn't know if he could protect themselves if he did.
Would they spot Hiccup? Or would Hiccup attack them himself? Hiccup….

Being with Hiccup, as they were now…
They weren't that close. Or, it was better to say they weren't as close as they could be.
Jack knew they could be closer if he let his walls down, more than he had, but there was still that little bit of sanity that told him not to.
Something he should be holding onto like a lifeline.
Something that he had abandoned so easily.
Something he shouldn't forget so easily, because that was what had kept Jack alive all these years.

Fighting to survive.
Surviving to fight.

Hiccup was dangerous. Jack knew this.
To Jack, and to himself. Because if he continued to affect the boy the way he was doing, neither would survive.
Rift or Raiders. Predators or Pitch. It didn't matter.
Jack would make a mistake. He always did. And if it wasn't Jack taking the punishment, Hiccup would be the one to face the consequences.
He could get hurt.

He could die.

Jack slowed his breathing, crouching lower into the damp soil. He didn't want to be responsible for Hiccup's death. He had to buck up and pay attention. He had to look after himself and not become a burden. He had to abandon the Brunette as soon as he could, for both of their sakes….

Jack raised his left hand, lining his eye with the sights on his crossbow, his fingers twitching to trigger the bolt. He waited, counting the seconds it took for the Raiders to pass.
Somewhere in Jack's head, he was thankful they weren't Rift, but that didn't mean too much. Raiders could be just as violent. They were just as much an enemy as the Rift and far more unpredictable.

The seconds passed by slowly. With every footstep, the rivals moved closer. Closer to Jack's hiding spot. Closer to revealing him…

Attack first, the voice in his head told him. Attack first and take them out. If they find us they'll kill us.
'No. Wait,' Jack thought to himself, ignoring the other that told him he was making the wrong choice. 'If they see us, they'll shoot to kill. We'll have no chance,' he insisted.
Jack's trigger finger twitched. He could feel himself wavering.
If we shoot first, while they still don't know where we are, we can win. Pick them off slowly.

Jack felt something inside him agree. He felt his weight shift, feel himself push away from the dampness of the soil. He laid his hand on the bark of the tree, aiming towards the back of a Raider, too busy laughing with another who was idly swinging the corpse of a pheasant. An easy target.

Shoot now.

Jack counted the five men, letting out a slow sigh, calming himself. He closed one eye as he aimed at the back of the man's neck.

Shoot now.

Jack leaned into the tree, letting his body relax, listening to the sound of the rain. It would provide cover. He could win if he picked them off slowly.

Shoot now!

Cloudjumper's whimper stopped Jack. He nudged the boy's elbow, pulling his focus from the men. Realising what he was doing was close enough to suicide, Jack ducked back down into the ditch.
Cloud laid his head onto the boy's lap, a deep rumbling in his throat. The teen was hesitant about the gesture, but he didn't hate it. He let his own arms lay around the wolf's neck, nuzzling his face into the bushy fur.

Weak, the voice scolded. You can't defend yourself, What makes you think you'll be able to defend Hiccup? You'll just get him killed.
Just like how you killed Tooth. You'll be responsible for his death too.

'Shut up,' Jack bit back, closing his eyes.

More blood on your hands. Another life that you will steal. How many will you kill before you realise that you are nothing but a burden. Worse than the enemies you fight…

Jack ignored the voice. He scrunched up his eyes and breathed in deeply, smelling the earthy scent of the forest. The warmth and the wetness of the evergreen woods. It calmed him.
He could feel the monster in his chest retreating back into the darkness, where it couldn't hurt anyone. The boy only hoped that it would remain there.