Uncle Gobber: Chapter 13

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG ST :D

Hiccup spent the rest of the day in a curious state between sleeping and waking, often drifting off for ten-minute periods before waking suddenly, sweat running down his forehead as he looked around for the source of whatever had woken him.

He didn't seem to be getting worse, but, Gobber reflected negatively, he didn't seem to be getting better, either.

About the sixth time Hiccup woke up, Gobber felt his forehead. He rather worriedly noted that the boy was positively burning up and could only guess at how many degrees his fever must be.

He was tempted to get the village healer again, but he was certain it would be a waste of her time. She'd already said there was no cure, and she should know, better than anyone on the island.

But there was nothing more to be done.

Gobber had discovered the cause behind Hiccup's illness, that there was no quick little cure or antidote, and now all he could really do was wait.

He gazed down at the red-haired boy, his real hand still resting on his forehead. Hiccup had, by now, shivered himself back to sleep, but he was shifting and frowning, as if something in his sleep distressed him.

Though Gobber was tempted to wake him, he decided to let his apprentice sleep, before his words from the other night came floating back to him: "It's the same dream every time and I can't get it out of my head."

He bit his lip, wondering what the boy's nightmare was about. All the signs pointed to the fact that, though Hiccup had been healthy for weeks prior to this illness, he had been suffering emotionally for that time and now still was.

That must have been why he'd become so quiet and sarcastic lately, why his brilliant green eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle and…

Hiccup opened his eyes and mumbled sleepily, "Thank you."

"For what?" Gobber asked, smoothing down the boy's unkempt hair.

"For staying with me," Hiccup whispered, rolling over onto his side so he faced Gobber. He struggled to pull the blanket up and Gobber grabbed the blanket one handed and tucked it more securely around him. "I know you have a lot of work…" he stopped to cough and sniff, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "…and I'm really glad you're staying with me, Gobber."

"Of course I am," Gobber replied. "My little boy is sick. You honestly can't expect— He stopped himself, realizing what he'd said. He paused, waiting to see if Hiccup had heard him, half-hoping he had and half-hoping he hadn't.

It appeared Hiccup had missed Gobber's last few words. "Why am I different, Gobber?" he asked suddenly.

Gobber struggled to follow the boy's train of thought and eventually concluded he would never understand his apprentice and it was no use trying. "Err…what?"

"I'm different," Hiccup repeated. "I'm just wondering…why? I mean, why did it have to be me who was different? The other kids, they're always picking on me…" his face crumpled into a frown, as though he was half sad and half bewildered as to why it was he who was the black sheep. "I mean, I'm a Viking, just like them, right? Or…" he added, looking discouraged, "I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, don't listen to them," Gobber encouraged. "You're more a Viking than those other kids put together." This was not strictly true, as Gobber didn't think he'd ever met anyone who was as terrible at archery or senseless violence as his apprentice, but of course, he wasn't about to tell him that.

Hiccup sighed, sitting up, his back facing Gobber. "I was just wondering." He didn't seem to have taken in a word Gobber said.

"Hiccup?" Gobber said timidly. "Lad? How you feeling?"

Hiccup shrugged. "I feel fine."

Gobber reached over and felt his forehead again. His fever was still raging. "Ach. Your fever's still high, lad."

Hiccup lay back down, staring absently up at the ceiling. He coughed again. "Well, if my fever dies down soon, I'm sure I'll feel great when it does." But his voice carried no enthusiasm.

"Feel like tellin' me some things, Hiccup?" Gobber asked, laying down beside him and glancing at him before turning his own gaze to the ceiling as well.

"Whatever," Hiccup replied moodily.

"I'm just wondering…" Gobber began. "You never talk to anybody anymore."

"That's because nobody cares what Hiccup the Useless has to say," Hiccup replied simply, never looking at Gobber.

"Well, sure, those kids are world-class jerks," Gobber told him. He had a much stronger word to describe the kids of Berk, in his opinion, but thought it best not to use them, for fear of Stoick coming back and asking where Hiccup had gotten his enlarged vocabulary. "But that's not true of some people, Hiccup. What about your dad?" he regretted bringing up Stoick the instant the words left his mouth, because Hiccup's brows drew down and he turned away from Gobber, his bony shoulder blades moving up and down as he breathed in and out.

"Like he cares," Hiccup said hotly.

"Hiccup, that's not fair, he does—

"Okay, next question," Hiccup snapped.

"Hiccup," Gobber began gently.

"He doesn't care what I have to say, now can we please just talk about something else?" he demanded. There was an almost pleading note in his voice and his breathing was a little more rapid, as if he was trying to muffle a whimper.

Gobber sighed. "Yeah. Sure, lad."

Someday, Gobber thought, gazing down at the young man his apprentice had become, Stoick would be able to appreciate the son he had, instead of constantly planning around the one he wished he had.