I am a useless member of society.

—

It was like this every time she went to see him. Every time it felt worse. After so many years of loving and caring for him, she knew that she wasn't capable anymore. Someone had to work, someone had to take care of the children. She knew she couldn't do it all.

Though she badly wanted to.

It started as Nightmares. He would jolt awake at night with screams that woke her. It lasted too long. Somedays, he would stare at the wall in silence until she brought him out of it. Frightening images filled his sketchbooks. He went days without sleep, trying to avoid the torments that would come.

It didn't matter, they leaked out into the day.

He wasn't dangerous, despite his fits that scared his children. Just confused. Just scared. Just sick.

Doctors gave him medicine, and she had to help him take it. He didn't want it. It made him tired. It made him dizzy. It made him forget.

And he didn't want to.

People prayed with him. They held his hand. Told him he would be alright. He would be okay.

Others scorned him. Said he was looking for attention.

She cut them out of their lives.

Then, he had enough. He decided to easy the burden of his wife. Though the blade cut deep, and the blood poured thickly, life was determined to go on. She made him promise not to do it again, and he tried.

Oh how he tried.

But it was so very hard.

She almost lost him. She came home from her second job to her children screaming for their daddy. He was face first on the floor, an empty pill bottle in hand. That had been frighteningly close.

She was scared. She loved her husband so much, but she couldn't take care of him. Not like this.

Her mother promised he would be happy at Happydale. The director seemed nice enough. He shook his hand warmly and assured that all would be well.

He lied.

Her heels hit the linoleum, her daughter's hand gripped in her own. It was the first of the month, visiting time.

"Momma, do you think he'll recognize me this time?" Kori chirped, hopeful.

"Oh I hope." Astrid whispered.

The nurse stopped at the door, and unlocked it. "I apologize. He broke his light in one of his fits, so it's a bit dark."

"It's alright. He prefers the dark."

The nurse nodded and shut the door behind them.

Only a bed in the white room. Dim blue light filtered in through the dirty window. A figure, wrapped loosely in a blanket, sat in the corner, his head resting on the wall.

"Hello, darling." She said warmly, kneeling next to him. She leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to his lips.

His vacant gaze looked right through her, like she wasn't even there. The greenness of his eyes blazed in contrast with his pale skin and hollow cheeks. He seemed to be refusing to eat again.

"Daddy, I brought you a present!" She pushed the stuffed dragon into his arms. "It's my favorite, but I want you to have it. So you can remember me this time."

Long slim fingers curled around the plush and he held it close to his chest.

"Look mom! Look!" Kori giggled, excited.

This wasn't right. The little girl should be getting excited about loosing a tooth, riding a bike, or finding four leaf clovers. Not seeing her father move.

It broke her heart. But she would not cry. Not this time. Not anymore. This was her life now, and she loved him, sane or not.

"I brought some shaving supplies, babe." She smiled. "I know how much you hate those scruffies!" She rubbed his lightly bearded chin. She knew the nurses didn't shave him.

"Yeah! It makes you look like santa!"

His lip twitched ever so slightly.

Astrid eased the man to sit properly as she took the supplies from her purse. She sprayed on the creme and Kori rubbed it around his jaw, covering all the unwanted hair. Astrid gently began to work.

"Tell him about what Toothless did the other day." The mother urged.

"There was a squirrel in the back yard…" Kori babbled on.

The mind of a genius, of a caring and loving father, of a strong husband…scrabbled. It was there, that she knew, but so many messed up chemicals, so much trauma, so many sleepless nights…so much damage. She dabbed a washcloth with a water bottle and cleaned up the excess foam as Kori came to the end of her story.

"There, all nice and clean. Doesn't that feel better Hiccup?" She beamed.

Her husband blinked, his eyes focusing on her. With a voice unused to speaking, he repeated, "Hiccup…" His chapped lips partially stuck together.

"Yes, that's your name." She confirmed.

He looked to her, desperate. "That's my name." He confirmed, tears rolling down his cheeks. "That's my name! You know my name!"

Astrid bit her lips as her own tears came to focus. "Yes, I do…do you know mine?"

A gasping, trembling breath tore from his throat. "Astrid…Oh god! You're my wife! Astrid!"

She nodded as he cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears away. "Yes, darling, it's me."

"Oh you haven't aged a day!" He kissed her. "You are still so beautiful! Much more delightful then this dreary place." He lamented.

"What about me?" The little girl asked. The man glanced at her as a tender smile came over his face. "My sweet little princess." He combed her hair and kissed her cheek. "My, what a lovely young lady you're growing into."

The girl threw her arms around him tightly. "Are you all better know? Can you come home?"

He returned the embrace tightly, the stuffed dragon still in his clutch. "Oh honey, I wish I could." He whispered.

Astrid beamed despite the tears on her face. He was doing better it seemed. He was speaking for himself. He wasn't just parroting them. Maybe the medicine was working. Maybe the doctors were making a break through.

Maybe it was just love.

Hiccup held the little toy in front of him. "I'll take good care of him. I promise. I'll sleep with him every night, and then you can have him back as soon as I get out."

"And that's gonna be real soon, right Daddy?"

His eyes glistened. "Right." He stood cracking his neck and back. "A walk then? Just a short stretch?" He set the toy on his bed then went and took the hands of his family.

"A short one. You haven't got your shoes."

"Shoe." He corrected.

Astrid rolled her eyes. It was just like old times.

Down the hall they went together, as a family. And someday soon, they would leave it behind.

Forever.

—

This drabble was born out of a recurring fear I have. I was diagnosed with acute Schizophrenia in 2012. I'm doing pretty good with it, but I always have this terrifying fear that I'll get worse in the future.