Author's Note: This is the official end of the arc. Meaning Hiccup will be going through rehabilitation and I'll explain a few minor details I neglected to explain in the previous chapter. I looked up about how long Hiccup's particular kind of amputation would need him to be in the hospital, and the average is 5 to 14 days unless there are complications. I figured I'd explain here that the extra week isn't anything went wrong or anything, honestly I'm kind of a space-case and spread out the weeks too far. So this chapter, we're starting from the day of his breakdown, and then moving into discharge. One major announcement though: 5th grade is ending this chapter, and we're moving into 6th grade next chapter.
Basic Overview: The best – and worst – part about life is learning to take things step by step.
Point of View: 3rd person: Jack/Hiccup alteration
Warnings: I'm pleased to say nothing horrible. Large time skip. (Prosthetic fitting takes longer than I initially thought)
Age Reminder: Jack is 12 (5th grade); Hiccup is 11 (5th grade); Emma is 9 (3rd grade)
Chapter 12: Step by Step
May 11th
Week Three: Tuesday
Mr. Haddock didn't return while Jack was visiting.
North had explained to the boy that he was "elsewhere", and that he'd explain to him what was going on later (Jack planned to hold him to that) when Hiccup wasn't around. For the rest of the evening, they sat around Room 300 while the broken boy slept, his arm clutching his stuffed dragon tightly, as if it would vanish into thin air at any second. His eyes were shut just as tightly, almost fearfully, as if he'd open his eyes and it'd be the end of the world. If Jack didn't know any better, he'd have assumed Hiccup didn't want to wake up.
He was a bit of a light sleeper; even the slightest of noises stirred him. There was a point (sometime around 6pm, if Jack could remember correctly) that his dreams had his heart beating particularly fast, and the rapid, rather loud mechanical whirs had startled him. Hiccup actually had to turn to Jack and ask him what it was (he looked as if he had started to panic at the sound), so he dismissed it as nothing and Hiccup shortly fell back to sleep. North and Emma quietly sat across the room, their voices but mere whispers when they needed to speak. Emma had submerged her attention into the book she'd been bringing for the past few visits, while North was watching the TV (muted, of course).
Around 8pm, North asked them if they wanted anything to eat. Emma opted to go with him while Jack pledged to stay by Hiccup's side, so the two of them left – yet again – to walk down to the Friendly's on the lower floor. Once they were gone, he watched the still expression on Hiccup's face and let the heart monitor ring in his ears. His pulse was calm, and the intensity of his shut eyes had eased. He could see them moving beneath his eyelids, as if his unconscious thoughts had called for him to look at some fabricated images to his left and right. Jack smiled.
Hiccup seemed so peaceful when he slept.
His legs were motionless (and thank god for that; Jack didn't want another "phantom" incident) and his chest rose and fell at a steady rate, perfectly mirroring the heart monitor's beat. His bangs parted along his forehead, falling in opposite directions rather messily in clumps. It was sort of… nice, I suppose, to see Hiccup so still and at peace. He was caught in the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, where nothing could touch him and reality had no true meaning. It was a privilege for him to sleep, in a way; dreams provided an adequate immunity to his current situation. Then again, it was probably a privilege to fall asleep in general. Hiccup's nurses had a habit of popping in annually, so he could only imagine the boy didn't get a lot of time to rest.
After a good ten minutes of watching his unconscious form carefully, the heart monitor picked up and all Jack could think to do was panic.
His grip on the stuffed dragon had tightened (if that was even possible) and his eyes shut tighter. Every breath he took was laced with a groan and he wiggled reflexively. The heart monitor was picking up rather quickly; Jack was surprised the nurses hadn't come in to make sure he wasn't… well, dying. The broken boy mumbled beneath his breath and Jack could have sworn he spotted tears welling in the corners of his eyes. And – after his leg shifted a bit and his eyebrows furrowed – it hit him.
Hiccup was having a nightmare.
Jack mentally smacked himself for not realizing it sooner, and took a deep breath (collecting himself, since he didn't want to freak Hiccup out any more than he already was) before placing a hand on his shoulder and nudging him a bit. "Hey, Hiccup!" he quietly called to him, shaking his shoulder as mildly as he could manage. "Hiccup, wake up."
His eyes shot open and when he sat up the heart monitor hit one particular beat loudly. Hiccup leaned forward a bit, rubbing his eyes with his hands while his chest heaved for air. His breaths were jagged, and he peeked over at Jack with wide, frightened eyes before softening his expression. His upper eyelids drooped a bit, eyelashes fluttering as he readjusted himself to reality. Jack unintentionally let his hand slide to his back and rub circles in an attempt to calm him down a little.
"You alright?" Jack asked sort of stupidly. Of course he wasn't alright, the doofus…
Hiccup nodded, blinking quickly and smiling over at him crookedly. "Uh… yeah. I-I'm good."
"Bad dream?"
He nodded again, chuckling awkwardly. "Really bad one."
"I get those too, sometimes," Jack smiled sheepishly, not entirely sure why he just blurted that out. "They kinda come and go pretty quick."
"What do you mean?"
The older boy rubbed the back of his neck clumsily, lowering his eyes. "Uh… Well… I dunno. They're scary, but it's not that hard to get rid of 'em." He bowed his head. "They're just dreams, after all."
He peeked up at Hiccup, who was staring at him curiously. The heart monitor beeped slower, much to Jack's delight, alerting him that the boy had calmed significantly. He glanced upward at his best friend and mentally fought with himself before senselessly blurting out, "Can you keep a secret?"
Hiccup's eyes widened before he nodded. Jack sighed.
"So…" he blew his bangs out of his face and glanced around the room to affirm no one was around. "North used to tell me this story when I was little, about the Man in the Moon."
His friend raised an eyebrow.
"And he always said that… that he sorta watches over everyone," he thought back to the third night he'd first stayed in North's house, and the horrible nightmare that jolted him awake and into a crying fit. The old man had rushed into his room and sat at the foot of the bed, running a hand along his back as he explained the entire ordeal. Jack smiled to himself at the memory, finding warmth in it somehow. The words North had spoken rang in his ears as clear as a bell. "And he fights off all that bad dreams that come in the night to keep you safe."
Hiccup blinked. "Like a guardian?"
"Yeah. A guardian." Jack smiled. "He protects your dreams and keeps you from being afraid of the dark."
The younger boy returned his smile, and it only took a few minutes for Jack to start telling his tale. He recalled every gesture North made with his hands and mimicked it at just the right times, earning amused giggles and gasps at plot twists from his best friend. Mid-way through the story, Jack could have sworn he caught North standing just outside the room with a smile on his face, and Emma eventually blew his cover when she skipped into the room with a Friendly's bag. She handed it to the older boy, and he split a container of fries with Hiccup (after making sure it was okay to, of course) as he finished up his story. They left around 9pm that night, and Jack chuckled to himself as he stepped out of the room.
And he prided himself for the miniscule smile on his friend's face as he fell asleep.
May 12th
Week Three: Wednesday
When Jack was alerted of his friend's discharge nearing, he bounced off the walls.
North had explained that tomorrow, he would receive a temporary prosthetic until he was healed enough to get it fitted, so Hiccup would be unable to walk very far for an extensive period of time. Of course, Jack's natural instinct was to offer to carry him around, and North's initial response was to decline it; apparently, his leg would still need to heal for a few months before he could walk or else it'd hurt immensely. He feared that the little dork would drop him, and – despite his efforts not to – he somehow took offense to that. However, North and he agreed that he'd leave Hiccup be for a month or two so he could adjust. Jack's offer still stood after that time, though. Like hell he was letting Hiccup sit around all the time; he'd done enough of that in the hospital. What that boy needed was a change of scenery, and Jack was willing to piggy-back him cross country if he needed to, just to lift his spirits!
He smiled all the way through classes (despite how miserably boring they were), and made a note to find Astrid at recess at let her know he was out of the hospital. They chatted for a while, and Jack discovered she was actually kind of an interesting girl. She joked about video games he liked and made an occasional jab at him, but all-in-all she was just… cool. Pretty physical, too, considering when Jack cracked a joke she'd punch him in the arm and – go figure – it actually hurt!
The excitement of seeing his best friend back at home after three long weeks never faltered throughout his day; he couldn't seem to get rid of the grin on his face – not even in Math class, and they were doing long division, too! And of course, when the final bell rung he met up with Emma in the foyer and they scurried onto the bus. Jack tapped his foot in his usual seat near the back while Emma plopped herself down next to Jamie.
The day just would not pass fast enough.
May 13th
Week Three: Thursday
One more day, Henrik. Just one more day.
Henrik's eyelashes fluttered, parting hesitantly as he shuffled from the warm arms of unconsciousness and the harsh, cold embrace of reality. The dreary white walls flooded his blurred vision, like a bright light shining in his eyes before dimming to conform to a sharper boundary. Static buzzed from the TV (no, wait… two TVs?) just across his bed, and – if he squinted enough – he could just barely make out the figure of two people talking in perfect synchronization on it. He furrowed his eyebrows a bit, shakily allowing his senses to regain themselves as he tried to focus on something, anything so his pupils would adjust to the lighting.
He was seeing double again, and it was starting to annoy him. All he could think for a moment was what a mistake it was to wake up when he noticed his father hadn't returned yet (the clock read 11::3377, though he had a feeling that wasn't quite right) and how stupidhe was for using the stronger painkillers to induce sleep. The nurses had told him it was alright to do so the first time he'd asked, and like the idiot he was he started using it to help knock him out cold whenever he couldn't stand being awake any longer.
Must to his dismay, he grew accustomed to doing so, and all-in-all it did help lull him to sleep (the nurses had an awful tendency of waking him up at night for tests so he rarely got to fully rest) but he hated its later side effects. It always left him lightheaded when he woke up, and the most irritating white noise rang in his left ear until he could regain coherency. Sometimes his vision would be all over the place, or his limbs would fall into an awkward, rather brief numbness that sent shivers down his spine.
Henrik sighed, rubbing his temples with his index and middle fingers until the ache in them eased slightly. It was a trick his Mother had taught him for headaches long ago, and as he slowly but surely regained the ability to comprehend his thought, he couldn't stand to look back at the memory. There was nothing but the joy of his mother's presence left in it; every vivid detail he used to pride himself in recalling had dulled to a hazy blur that didn't quite register in his head. All that was left was a bitter reminder of her absence, and Henrik found his stomach churning and his eyes stinging at the threat of tears. He mentally cursed himself for letting her cross his mind and choked back every sob working its way up his throat.
His disdain of consciousness was starting to gain frequency.
In reality, there was nothing but this damnable room and the constant clack of scissors cutting medical tape; no music except the mechanical hum-drum of his heartbeat bouncing across the walls; no company except his Father – whose company he really was starting to resent as everything unwound – and the ditzy nurses who talked to him like he was five or something. His dreams held wonder and the hazy silhouette of his mother reaching out to him, with the occasional pop-in from Jack or an exotic dragon. He was an unconscious king – a conqueror and adventurer in the unwritten planes of insentience – torn from the gracious, giving lands and thrown directly into the crossfire of reality.
He hated waking up. He really, really did.
The only highlights of sentience he could determine at the time were two things: the promise of departure he'd received some time around 9am (though admittedly, its excitement had dulled but moments after the nurse had left and his father had added his comments in), and when Jack's family came to visit (Jack's last name differed so it felt weird addressing them as a single unit) in the afternoons and nights. Henrik couldn't wait to finally leave this horrid place, where every white wall echoed regretful news and his heartbeat whirred unnaturally to a mechanic rhythm. He couldn't wait to go home and sleep in his own bed and just… be by himself for a while.
Now don't get me wrong; his Father hadn't done anything to spite him. As a matter of fact, he wasn't saying or doing much of anything at all. He sat beside Henrik during the days and stayed overnight when he could, but his presence was… awkward. Unnaturally quiet and utterly unwanted. He never had anything to say, and when Henrik asked him questions about what was going on he rarely answered them. Only when it had come time for Val's funeral to come in question did he say anything to the boy; when it had taken place only lured him to the tender warmth of unconsciousness.
May 11th was the worst day of his life.
It was the day he grew uncertain of whether his mother was in ashes or buried in the ground, and simultaneously the day he'd broken down in front of his best friend. It was the day that his father left for a funeral and didn't even give him a goodbye, and the same day he'd experienced one of the worst nightmares of his life – and he couldn't even remember what it was about. It was the day he started realizing how much he hated being awake and how much he hated this place and hated the position he was in.
Henrik huffed. His thoughts stirred incomprehensible anger and melancholy all at once and it was starting to make him dizzy. He was having enough problems as it was trying to stabilize himself. Taking a moment to shut his eyes and regain his composure, he reached for one of the books on the tray table beside him and stopped mid-movement when he felt his stuffed dragon stir against the right rail. Henrik tugged it back onto his lap and simply admired its appearance for a moment.
The right button-eye was starting to come loose, and with a shaky finger he pushed it back into its place so it wouldn't dangle. Of course, gravity reclaimed the string and it returned to its limp position so he merely patted it on the head with a sigh. Its fabric was starting to dirty; the once-black material stained with a few patches of dirt (from rescue-escapades with Jack, no doubt about it) and dotted along the top of its head with a light, wet sheen. Henrik blew his bangs out of his face. Great. He actually got tears on the little guy; how cliché was that? Stitching along its spine was still in decent tact, though he noted a couple of splits along its belly and one of its wings. His eyes wandered a bit more and he found himself locking eyes on the left half of its tail.
Ironically enough, a few of the stitches were loose there.
He snorted to himself and curled the stuffed dragon into his arms again, letting his back slouch against the mattress and the wires beside him clang as he did so. He glanced at the loose stitches and thought about Toothless, oddly enough, and found himself smiling at the thought he'd get to go see his puppy after weeks of leaving him with Jack. It made him smile thinking about all the mischief the little devil must have gotten into, and all the tormenting he must have imposed on his best friend. He made a mental note to himself to thank Jack and Emma for watching him for so long; especially when it crossed his mind that Toothless hated the former.
While his vision refused to help him distinguish the floor from the wall across the room, he let his thoughts wander a bit and found himself wondering just what time Jack was coming to visit today. When his father got back (and he prayed that wouldn't be soon; the space he had right now was marvelous) he planned on asking him, and until his best friend go there he'd probably force himself asleep (despite his hatred for the "I just woke up" feeling that followed). Could you blame him for being stupid though? Stuck in the same room for three weeks… Henrik had hit a point where he'd started counting the swirls on the ceiling; it was that boring.
He clutched his dragon a bit tighter while he returned to the "when's Jack coming" thought train. Henrik's smiled widened crookedly.
He couldn't wait to see his friend, pathetically enough; the company was appreciated, and – even if it was something miniscule – Jack always had something to talk about with him. Sometimes he'd go off on tangents about some movie he sat through during class, or the other kids in it who annoyed him. All Henrik could really think to do during them was laugh and focus on the ever-changing expressions on his face, vibrant and full of excitement as if everything in the world was a source of entertainment for him.
He liked his stories and how random they were, though the Man in the Moon particularly interested him. The way Jack told it was so vivid and wonderful, as if he'd lived it himself and told it a thousand times before. He made these goofy gestures with his hands and inflected his voice at the weirdest points in the story, drawing sniggers and giggles from the younger boy.
And… maybe it was odd, but he just enjoyed Jack's presence in general.
It comforted him – in a way – that the boy was so insistent on visiting him. It felt nice to be cared about, and he sincerely appreciated his efforts to keep him entertained. Every visit, he brought him a different book (Henrik only assumed he'd climbed across the rooftops and plucked them off of his desk, the little sneak) and a new story to tell; there was a visit sometime at the beginning of May – the 1st, he thought – that Jack brought him his book of dragons and all he could manage for a thank you was an amused, dorky giggle. Yeah. Not his smoothest response, but since when has he been known for being smooth?
Jack had another marvelous habit of checking up on him during each of his tangents. While he was weaving some elaborate tale about Field Day (thank the gods he missed that) he stopped mid-sentence when the heart monitor beeped a little faster to ask if he was alright, and if he needed anything. Henrik just shrugged it off and politely declined, so the older boy continued on. All-in-all, Jack was really kind to him despite how confused Henrik could only imagine he was. He recalled how flustered he seemed the first day, and it meant a lot that his best friend was trying so hard to cheer him up. He didn't pick on him for crying like Henrik half-expected him to, and he didn't bring up his Mom or the car crash, or any of the terrible things that made reality such a let-down at the time.
Jack was probably the most normal part of his life right now, and Henrik couldn't even begin to describe how much that meant to him.
He didn't treat him like the nurses did, with their fake, cushy "It's gonna be alright" speeches and their ridiculous manner of addressing him with forced hospitality. Gods, it bothered the crap out of Henrik when they spoke to him like a child; they put on these slow, high-pitched voices you'd put on to talk to an infant, and it drove him to the brink of insanity. And the lingo some of them took to was maddening, especially a particularly perky nurse who laughed at the most inappropriate times and referred to him as "honey" or "pumpkin". Of course, he responded to her kindly and minded his manners but the woman drove him crazy.
Rather, his best friend's voice was a pure contrast to the façades about the hospital. He entered his room because he wanted to, not because he was getting paid to run some useless test and scribble down some chicken-scratch information. The delight beneath every word he said held a genuine ring, and every smile on his face came naturally and appropriately; Jack laughed when it was okay to laugh, and held his composure certainly. He never forced Henrik to believe things would be okay with cushy, half-hearted words. There was something about the calm expression about his face, and the sincerity in his voice when he spoke that made him honestly believe things would turn out alright, even if that hope lasted for a split second.
Henrik slouched back even more and narrowed his eyes, hugging his dragon close to his chest. The usual buzz of hospital antics was hushed behind the closed door to his room and he focused on the silence and free space about him that allowed free thought. Seizing the opportunity, he reflected on his time in the hospital briefly before turning his attention – once more – to his dragon. Its significance brought a smile about his face and he brought it up from his chest to curl into his shoulder, cradling it a bit in his hand before holding it tightly. It echoed the memories of his mother's touch and her calm, collected voice reminding him that things would be alright. It guarded sacred memories like a proper knight and every stitch retold a bedtime story from long ago.
He reminded himself it was Jack who'd brought his stuffed guardian to him and it was Jack who'd given him the best of those memories. Henrik sighed contently. Jack had given him so much over the years – a puppy (though that was a bit… er… indirect), a friend, a promise and a snowstorm, a series of tasteful memories, a swig of disgusting loopy juice, and the comfort of a metaphorical home. Henrik sniggered to himself. He hadn't the slightest idea what had gotten him on this train of thought, but as his senses heightened to their regular state, he drew a conclusion in the recesses of his mind. In the end, all the little dragon could do was stand guard and give some pretty lousy hugs.
Jack was the real guardian, and – call him crazy – he couldn't wait for him to arrive.
"The doctor will be in to show you how it works in just a minute, so sit tight for a few."
Hiccup nodded at the mild-mannered nurse and watched her swing out of the room, his eyes moving to his friend shortly after. Jack was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wide smile plastered across his face as he watched his friend shuffle to sit up. Today, the mysterious "prosthetic" would be revealed to them, and he couldn't wait to see Hiccup start walking (minimally, of course; he understood that these things would take time). The younger boy gingerly placed his stuffed dragon on the tray table, giving his father a quick glance before he fumbled to scoot down the bed and let his legs (or… leg and stump, rather) dangle off the edge. Jack naturally hurried over and pulled up the railing while Emma untangled some of the messily strung wires laid across it. He sat beside Hiccup and placed his hands on his waist, helping him scoot forward with a stifled groan. The younger smiled up at him, and Jack returned it without hesitation.
They waited for a solid twenty minutes, though to Jack they passed like hours. I mean, his best friend was one step closer to coming home; naturally he was thrilled. He bounced from his position on the bed, making Hiccup's limper form wiggle with him. He looked over at him with a wide, anticipating smile. "You excited, Hic? I mean, tomorrow is like… the day."
His best friend nodded, looking over at him with a weaker smile that radiated an equal amount of excitement. "Yeah, it'll be nice to finally get out of this place for once."
"Just don't go doing anything too crazy, 'kay?" Jack poked him in the nose and narrowed his eyes. "I don't want you coming back here any time soon. You gotta promise me, Hiccup."
"Kinda hard to promise something like that when you keep trying to get me do stupid stuff."
His expression blanked for a split second, and the younger boy sniggered. Wow. Hiccup was starting get mouthier as he got older.
"Hey, don't pin that on me; you could say no at any time, dork!"
"You don't really make it easy to."
"But I make it easy enough, huh?"
Hiccup fumbled for a response, and Jack smirked victoriously. He held up his left hand with an honest chuckle. "Fine. I won't do anything stupid if you promise me you won't come back here."
"You sure you can handle that?"
The older shrugged. "Just keep your butt out of the hospital and I'll figure something out."
Hiccup stared at him blankly, an eyebrow raised with a droop to his eyelids that screamed "are you serious?" Jack smiled crookedly and offered him a pinky. The younger merely rolled his eyes and curled his own around it.
"Fine. I promise."
The doctor came in and explained shortly after that Hiccup's prosthetic was only a temporary one, and that it wasn't fitted properly so that he could use it to walk around. It was "only for emergencies" (whatever that meant), since apparently Hiccup's stump would need a few months to fully heal so he could walk properly. Jack made sure to pay extra close attention to his explanations, just in case something happened at home and his best friend needed some help. He mentally noted that he wasn't allowed to travel more than a foot or so with it on or else he'd hurt himself.
And when his lecture was finished, he asked if they had questions (regrettably, none of them did; he summed it up rather nicely) he gestured for someone to come in, and shortly after two nurses stepped into the room. One of them held what looked like a big blue cup with a giant metal curve at the bottom. Jack noted how much thicker and wider the flatter end was; it must have been the part that would hit the floor. They shuffled to the side of the bed and explained to him how to put it on; Hiccup initially seemed nervous, but he took a deep breath and slid the stump in, bending his knee a bit to make sure it was on tight enough. Jack sniggered at his first try; as it turns out, he had it on backwards, the doofus. He fixed it shortly after and the nurses knelt down to check it.
The look of absolute wonder on his friend's face was adorable in the most peculiar way.
He seemed… fascinated by the stupid thing, with his dulled, green eyes sparking brighter with interest as he wiggled his left leg around. He tapped the floor with the metal end of it and Jack noticed the way his eyes wouldn't leave his leg, despite the doctor's constant reminders and comments. And – sure enough – he invited the boy to stand after asking a few questions and letting his stump adjust to the new "limb".
"There's no rush, Henrik," the doctor reassured him, smiling down at him sincerely. "Take things at your own pace; if you move too quickly, you might hurt yourself."
Hiccup nodded, swallowing thickly before shooting Jack a quick glance. "Uh… alright."
"You need help standing?" the older boy offered him a hand, to which the younger smiled. Jack carefully let his arm wrap around his friend's waist; together they slowly worked their way up, and Hiccup prudently shifted his weight off his left leg to his right. The wires from his arm swung a bit but gradually stilled. "You alright?"
"Yeah," he exhaled sharply. "I'm good."
The doctor looked over at him with an encouraging smile. "Does it hurt?"
"No, sir."
"Excellent," the man cheered, gesturing for the nurses to help the broken boy. Jack politely stepped out of their way and they moved to stand on each of Hiccup's sides. "Now, I need you to put a little weight on your left leg. Can you do that?"
Hiccup nodded. Staring down at the prosthetic, he clumsily shifted his hips to stand up straight, wincing a bit as his leg unbent. Jack watched every subtle twitch in his body carefully.
"Any pain?"
"A little."
He scribbled something down on a chart and turned his attention to Hiccup once more. "Alright, I'm going to have you walk up the hallway and back." He stated calmly. "The prosthetic you have isn't fitted for you to walk long distances, but we need to get you moving as soon as we can."
The young boy nodded, glancing down at his leg.
"It's for emergencies only, Henrik," The doctor continued. He turned to Mr. Haddock, who sat with his hands folded on his lap across the room. "Try not to let him walk with it more than he really needs to. His leg needs more time to heal, but he can be fitted in two months. Rehabilitation follows on average for about two weeks, though judging by how quickly your son is healing he might not need that much time."
"I understand." His father affirmed.
"Now that that's over with…" the doctor sighed, handing the chart to a nurse who took it out of the room. "Let's get you going, Henrik."
Walking was weird.
This entire… leg… thingy was weird, and Henrik couldn't quite adjust himself to walking the first time around. Every step he took was awkward, the metal of his left leg clanking against linoleum obnoxiously in comparison to the clumsy press of his right, bare foot. He constantly had to remind himself to put weight on his left leg, but every time he let the prosthetic hit the floor and tried to, he had to quickly shuffle his right leg forward. It wasn't that the weight on his leg was terribly painful, but it was certainly uncomfortable enough to warrant his attempts to limp off of it.
It took him a while to make his way out of the room. He actually had to use Jack's shoulder as a buffer when Emma accidentally wheeled his IV into the door frame (she was apologizing so quickly he could hardly get a word out), allowing him a brief moment of reprieve from the discomfort of movement. When the wires untangled from the door handle, and she managed to realign the wheels so they wouldn't strike the walls, Jack guided Henrik out into the hallway. Henrik really had to focus on what he was doing, and despite Emma's reminders to not look at his feet so much, he couldn't take his eyes off the floor. It was the most surreal feeling, like he couldn't take his eyes off his leg or else the stupid prosthetic would disappear.
By the time they hit room 280, he was starting to get the hang of it.
Placing weight on his leg became easier as he inched his way down, and as he grew more comfortable his pace sped up. Glancing over at Jack, he noted that his friend was following him closely, eyes darting between his face, the hallway ahead, and his fumbling feet. Henrik found himself smiling for a split second at the observation. Jack was paying equally as much attention to his walking as he was himself. And as they neared their checkpoint beside the dry-erase room chart at the end of the hallway, Henrik was feeling comfortable enough to walk a little quicker. So – without really thinking about it – he swiveled on his right heel slightly (turning back around so they could head back to his room) and confidently stepped forward.
…and, in the process, nearly threw himself onto the floor.
The nurses around them immediately glanced over as Emma gasped and Jack reflexively caught him, his IV wires clinging against their metal perch loudly. Some struck the sides of the machine and skidded along its sides, but Henrik paid them no mind; the wires still in his wrists stung a bit from jerking forward and his left leg throbbed dully from the sudden weight-shift. His heart pounded, stricken with a sudden rush of adrenaline and his nerves quivered. Jack held onto him tightly and he helped Henrik move to stand up straight again.
The older boy's expression softened. "Hey, you alright?"
Henrik gulped and nodded, forcing himself to calm down from his fumble. Emma hugged the metal stand of his IV and furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you hurt?"
"No," He shook his head. "I-I'm okay."
"The nurse said to take it slowly, doofus," Jack huffed, sliding the hand on Henrik's torso around to his back again. He rubbed circles when he noticed how much he was trembling, but stopped as he calmed. The younger boy pouted, shakily regaining his balance by shifting his weight back to his right foot. "Quit hurrying or you're gonna fall over."
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Henrik let his left leg come forward, gingerly pressing the metal end of his prosthetic to the linoleum before placing weight on it. He hastily let his right foot come forward, wobbling a bit when too much weight focused on his left but taking a step successfully nevertheless. He gripped Jack's arm tightly and repeated the process, gradually gaining speed despite his friend's protests and Emma's warnings. He tried not to focus on the wheels of his IV spinning behind him, or his friends trying to tell him to slow down.
Henrik was walking, and he wasn't planning on slowing down for a second.
However, he stumbled a bit on the last step, and nearly fell to the floor had Jack not caught him. The wires of his IV swung as he came forward, and Emma gasped a bit at the initial fumble. Jack furrowed his eyebrows and helped him rebalance. "What'd I just say?"
Henrik mimicked his expression. "I'm doing fine, Jack."
"If by fine, you meaning hurtling yourself into the floor I'd say yeah, you're doing great." The older boy sighed, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. Henrik rolled his eyes. So he nearly tripped a few times, big deal! He was clumsy enough already, and he was tripping before the prosthetic. Clumsiness aside, Henrik knew what he was doing; like Hel he needed Jack to tell him how to walk. "Just go slow, okay? Get used to it before you go running marathons, speedy."
He scoffed. "Fine…"
The nurses had him stretch his legs like that every couple of hours that night.
Jack would shuffle out the door with him and Emma would wheel his IV behind him just like the first time around, and with every lap they conquered, Hiccup got more and more comfortable with the dinky little prosthetic. Of course, each round they would return him to his room and he'd slip out of the faux-limb and load up on painkillers for a while (man, Jack could only imagine how much it hurt!), letting himself return to that loopy, goofy half-conscious state Jack had grown accustomed to seeing his friend in during the afternoon.
Mr. Haddock was finally talking a little more (though, mostly to North) while Jack and Emma crowded around the broken boy's bed and giggled about his dorky laugh. Jack cracked stupid jokes, earning a roll of eyes from his sister and a roar of laughter from his drugged-up friend; seeing him so jubilant and his smile so wide (even if it was drug-induced) made his heart soar with joy. Soon, he'd get to run around with the boy like they usually did and see that smile radiate naturally as they played; he'd get to see Hiccup in his natural state, brave and curious by circumstance, yet prudent and keen by nature. He'd get to make more memories with his best friend, and this entire horrid mess would be behind them.
Jack couldn't wait. Hiccup was coming home tomorrow, and it excited him so much he could hardly sit still.
When the nurses came in for a last lap down the hallway (they managed to catch Jack before North declared their departure), Emma had fallen asleep in one of the chairs already. Jack claimed the responsibility of supervising his best friend and pushing the IV (what a hero, am I right?) as they made their way out of the room and into the hall. At first, Hiccup had set a decent pace for himself. He wobbled along carefully, using his arms to balance himself when he stumbled.
Halfway through, he got… well, downright cocky about it and started hurrying along, practically rushing down the hall with Jack calling after him to stop. Naturally he ignored him, until his left leg throbbed with pain and he shook, tumbling forward. Jack rushed in front of him and caught him in his arms; the younger's nose buried into the crook of his neck clumsily (ouch by the way) as the older lifted him up. The blue-eyed brunette deadpanned his expression and dinked him the forehead the back of his hand. "What part of 'let's go slowly' are you not getting?"
"I'm fine, okay?" Hiccup huffed, lowering his eyes to the floor. "I just tripped."
"Cause you're going too fast, doofus!" Jack retorted, his features laced with annoyance. Can you blame him though? It's like no matter how many time they told him to slow down, Hiccup kept speeding ahead as if his life depended on it. He wouldn't listen, and it was starting to piss Jack off. "You're gonna fall and hurt yourself if you keep speeding ahead and—"
"Jack, I'm fine!" Hiccup spat back, rubbing his forehead with his right hand before carefully marching onward. "I know how to walk, genius…"
He growled a bit. "Do you always have to be so stubborn?"
"It's not that big of deal."
"Oh sure, falling down and breaking your face is nothing…"
The younger boy stopped in his tracks and exhaled sharply. Jack watched him carefully, raising an eyebrow as he whipped around and nearly yelled, "I just wanna get this over with, okay?!"
Silence settled between them. Jack wasn't entirely sure how to respond other than to mumble, "Sorry."
Hiccup sighed. "…Me too."
He stopped for a moment and let his right side lean against a wall, alleviating all weight from his left foot. Jack wheeled the IV over to him and stood beside him, watching his friend's expression shift from irritation to a more somber one within seconds. He felt his own features soften, and placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. Hiccup turned to him with drooping eyelids and a thin frown.
"Hey," Jack brushed the bangs out of his friend's face, earning a confused stare from the boy. He pulled his hand back sheepishly and cleared his throat. Sometimes he forgot his friend wasn't as comfortable with physical contact as his sister was. "I know your leg probably hurts, and the hospital's not too fun but… it's only one more day, okay?"
Hiccup's eyes lowered. He nodded weakly.
"So just… go easy on yourself, I guess. Quit trying to make things harder by doing stuff you can't yet. You're just gonna bum yourself out even more."
Tears welled in the corners of the younger boy's eyes, and Jack felt a sting of something rake through his heart. "I just wanna walk again," his friend admitted, voice cracked at the threat of crying again. "I wanna go home and be done with this place."
"Well…" Jack thought for a minute, and wheeled the IV back into the center of the hallway. Hiccup shakily followed, his green eyes wide with interest. "You're not gonna get there any time soon if you're falling all over the place. Come on." He made a gesture with his hand for the boy to follow him, so Hiccup shuffled to stand beside him. Jack took his friend's left arm and draped it around his right shoulder and let the IV machine spin along the floor to his own left hand, out of his best friend's way so he could walk.
Hiccup gaped at him for a moment, eyes lowering to the floor and darting up to his friend's eyes confusedly. "Now let's try this again..." Jack simply asserted, "No looking at the floor, okay?"
"How do I see where I'm going, then?"
Jack smiled. "That's what I'm here for, ya' doof, so I'd better not catch you peeking down, got that?"
Hiccup nodded.
"Good, then let's take things slowly, okay?" Jack looked over at his friend, whose expression was fearful as his eyes fluttered nervously between differing points in front of him. "It's alright, Hiccup. Keep looking up, I'll walk with you."
"Okay, okay, okay…" the younger repeated to himself, hesitantly shifting his weight and taking a step with his faux left leg, and then to his right. When his limbs wobbled, he whimpered a bit but Jack held onto him tighter.
"It's okay," he reassured him softly, moving his own feet in time with Hiccup's shaky steps. "No reason to worry, alright? Let's just go one foot at a time."
Hiccup looked at him with anxious eyes and his lips curved crookedly. He tried once more, placing his left leg forward (and Jack mimicked the moment) to place weight on it. He smiled to himself when he managed to make the step without tumbling or feeling any discomfort.
"See?" Jack grinned. "We've just gotta take this step by step."
When Henrik finally returned home on May 14th, the house was far too quiet for his liking.
Sven had been kind enough to carry him inside (he explained on the ride back that he really didn't want him walking just yet) and carefully brought him up to his room. The usually cheerful green walls seemed to illuminate about three tints brighter as his Father laid him across the mattress. Upon impact (though it was rather delicate, surprisingly enough) every taught muscle in his back melted into the duvet. He sighed contently, taking comfort in the idea of lying in his own bed in his own room. Its plush embrace staggered his perception of reality until it dulled into a hazy blur. Henrik wiggled beneath the comforted and tugged it over his weakening form until it covered him up to the bridge of his nose.
Oh the joy of being in his own bed after three stiff weeks…
"Do you need me to bring you anything?" his father's voice cut through the silence sharply. It was rather hushed, like the blunt end of a dulled knife gliding across Henrik's eardrums.
He mumbled into the duvet, "No. Thanks, Dad."
"Of course, son." The shuffle of feet against the carpet echoed in the air momentarily, but retarded as the door creaked open. Sven stuttered slightly. "And uh… Henrik?"
He moved the blankets from his ears and peeked over, letting his eyes reveals themselves from behind their brown and green plaid veil. "Yeah, Dad?"
The man's expression fell. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but no words came out, as if he knew what he wanted to say yet something held him back. Silence fell about the room, and for a minute Henrik's stomach turned.
"I'll be… picking up Toothless in a little bit."
Henrik's face fell too. His lips twitched, so he tugged the comforter back up to hide their miniscule frown. "Uh… alright. Thanks, I guess."
"Sure… just… get some rest, son."
He awkwardly nodded, expression tensing with confusion. "Yeah, I… p-plan to."
Sven shuffled out of the room silently, shutting the door carefully behind him to leave Henrik to his thoughts. But for once in his life, he couldn't manage any. He was stuck in this perpetual purgatory between the conscious buzz of confusion and the unconscious allure of dreams. He staggered to shut his eyes and allow himself to indulge in sleep's wonder, but found himself staring at the wall instead, his hearing heightened as he listened for something, anything to focus on besides his inability to drift away. But his labors brought him no fruits. The house was too quiet. Dad was too quiet. Mom was gone and Toothless was over at Jack's house so he was completely alone again. He thought that was what he wanted, but now that he got his wish he'd do anything to hear his friend's stupid jokes or his father yelling at the dog for doing something stupid.
And for an awful, rather brief moment it felt like he was sitting in the hospital bed all over again.
Summer vacation came and went rather quickly that year, and with it came the promise of new beginnings.
Of course, Jack and Hiccup didn't particularly do anything overwhelmingly spectacular for those three months; they mostly consisted of Jack piggy-backing Hiccup across the yard (he didn't want Hiccup walking too much either, apparently) so they could sit in the grass beneath the sun and the occasional movie night when it rained. Sometimes Emma would skip over with Jack and the three of them would play board games or pretend in the living room. Other times, they'd hurry outside (Jack with a bit more difficulty, now that he had taken to carrying Hiccup on his back) to roll around in the grass and chase Toothless around. Most of the time, though, the little ball of fur curled up beside Hiccup on the lawn and guarded him like a loyal knight. He growled menacingly as Jack neared his master and wagged his tail when Hiccup scratched behind his ear and – in later discovery – under his chin.
Mr. Haddock wasn't home very much that summer, Jack noticed, and in his place was Hiccup's grandfather. He rarely said much, but when he did it was in a rather hush, coarse voice Jack could never really understand, yet Hiccup heard him clear as day as if they'd worked out their own language. The younger boy had always enthused about how the old man would teach him cool stuff, like how to speak certain phrases in Latin (Jack would never understand what the heck he'd need that for, but whatever…) or how to play chess. From the times Jack had seen him, he could only think of two words to describe him: old and wrinkly. He had a bad habit of smoking out of a pipe while he was outside, so Jack had taken precautions not to go near him when he did so (it reeked!).
The days passed rather quickly, though, as if the younger's hospital stay truly had no significance in their plans. Jack still chided about his control over the weather (what a doofus; he didn't even make it snow like he said he would a few years ago) while Emma poked fun at him for being stupid. They bickered and Emma usually came out victor while Hiccup laughed and gave his two cents when it was needed. He got his new prosthetic mid-August, but wasn't permitted to enroll back into school until the third week of September (just as a precaution; they need to make sure it was fitted alright). While Hiccup was partial to the idea of going to school with it, Jack reassured him that everyone would think his "cyborg leg" was the coolest thing ever.
5th grade drew to a close rather peacefully. Its conclusion came in like a lion and out like a lamb, much as rain in the spring time often did. But there was a hope about the thrill of enrolling into a new school; the term "middle schooler" brought about a rousing rush of adrenaline that only gradual maturity could grant. The year ended on a higher note (though still pretty flat, and awkward to listen to) as time healed wounds – though the mental battle scars seared slowly – and Hiccup slowly grew accustomed to wobbling on one leg.
The 5th grade was mourning. It was loss and gain in the same fateful night; uncomfortably stiff hospital beds and annoyingly loud heart monitors. It was the promise of something new presenting itself yet the death of something – and someone — wonderful exhuming. 5th grade was Valentine's Day and the mysterious "center" code, loopy juice and resolutions, and the horrid fear of being alone but the promise of companionship. It was teaching Hiccup how to smile again, despite everything horrible he'd been through within the span of 24 hours.
It was learning to take things slower than Jack and Hiccup were accustomed to; fumbling forward step by step at a clumsy rhythm they found themselves comforted by.
Author's Note: And that's it, folks. That's the horrible arc I had planned from chapter 1. Thank gods we are past it, since I have a lot of shenanigans planned for the boys in Middle School – as that's every kid's awkward phase that needs to be explored for the sake of the story – as well as a few lovely new introductions in High School. Thank you for barreling through this monstrous arc, I love you guys so much!
