"Let me see your phone," Heather demanded as soon as Hiccup's bedroom door was closed.

He narrowed his eyes at her. He'd seen her like this before. This was back when they'd actually been in school together. But, that had been at least two years ago, if not more. She was very kind and caring, most of the time. But, her mind was set. He knew that she was only being this direct because of what was going on. Needing to remind himself of this, he took in a deep breath, let it out, and reached into the pocket of his hoodie and handed it to her.

Plopping down at the end of his bed, she looked at it for a second. Her face softened, but Hiccup's went bright red. His lock screen was of he and Astrid sharing a milk shake. Ironically, at the very diner he had been attacked at.

"Oh, the passcode - " She handed it back for a second, and he unlocked it.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Hiccup asked her.

She didn't respond right away, but she finally swapped over three times before she finally found the icon. Her face narrowed. "Hiccup, why is your Facebook and Facebook Messenger basically in the lost zone on your phone?"

"Uh - you didn't realize I don't technically utilize Facebook that much, did you?" he teased, but she caught onto his banter.

"Do you mind?" she asked, showing she was about to click on the icon for Messenger. He put his hand out to her, letting her know that she was welcome to go through whatever she wanted. He heard the soft tapping as she clicked through a few buttons, and then she stopped and leaned the phone down so he could see what she was doing.

"This is where your message requests come in," she said. "You know, from people that aren't your friends on Facebook but want to contact you - unless you have them blocked, of course." Sure enough, there was a red bubble indicating he had messages. She clicked on it, and together they looked at the screen, their heads tucked close together to view evenly.

Along with a few spam accounts with names he didn't recognize (Heather deleted them right away), he saw a few messages from students at the school. Those went ignored for now, but Heather pointed directly at a name they all couldn't miss: Brock. She clicked on it, and Brock had apparently been sending Hiccup messages for a few weeks. Even before Hiccup had even been attacked initially from Brock.

- Hey, man. Can we talk?

- Hey, here's my number, can you call me?

- Dude, got a question.

- Hey, are you on here at all?

There were few more messages just like that. Then -

- You better make sure Heather gets my letter.

- Have you given it to her yet?

- What's your deal?

Followed by -

- C'mon, dweeb. Get to hustling. I don't have eons to wait on your gimp ass.

- Have you talked to her yet?

- How's your face feel?

- Nice shiner there, you deserved it.

- I told you to ditch the boyfriend! Why for the love of Thor is he even in town?

- You'll pay for this.

"Okay, I'm done," Hiccup said, pushing the phone from view. There were only a few more, but he was tired and just done with it.

"When you said you hadn't gotten any messages, I assumed this was why," Heather said. "I've gone months without getting notified I had messages, and then one day, bam! There they are. These went to your spam file, though. Kinda odd considering you guys have mutual friends on facebook."

"Can - can you block him for me?" Hiccup asked. A few clicks later, Heather handed his phone back. "I won't tell your dad."

"Probably be best not to tell your mom, too," Hiccup responded.

She mulled over his words for a moment. "You are probably right."

He leaned back into his pillows, shielded the light with his arm, and sighed in the darkness. Honestly, he needed a minute to think. He needed a breather. Heather apparently sensed this, because she didn't say a word to pull him out of this moment. He could feel her move slightly on the bed, but that was all. Finally, he took in a breath, and looked at her from where he laid.

"What do I do now?" he asked her.

A moment passed by.

"You don't want to report this to the school, do you?" she asked.

"The messages or today's attack?"

"I deleted the messages," Heather said. "I mean, today's attack. Or, warning. Message….Whatever dip-jerk wants to call it."

"No," Hiccup sighed. "I'm tired of relying on adults to come to my aide."

"Is it because of your leg?" Heather asked, quite boldly.

Hiccup's eyes met her's. He felt a twinge of resentment go through him. But, then, respect. She didn't teeter around the handicap. She never really had. Maybe the first time they had talked about it, but never since then. She treated him like a person other than a piece of brittle glass.

"Kinda," Hiccup said. "I'm just trying to graduate with the remaining body parts I have left."

Heather laughed slightly. "I get it."

"I just - I just want to be normal. Just finish school and go on with my life," Hiccup said. "Right now, Brock is kind of holding me back."

"Can I ask you something?" Heather asked.

Hiccup sat up. "Sure."

"If - if you still were - whole, I guess - if that makes any sense - "

"It does," Hiccup interrupted.

" - would you be this afraid to stand up for yourself?"

Hiccup's hand fell on his chest. "Wow, you really know how to hit a guy when he's down."

She shoved him playfully. "You know what I mean."

Hiccup nodded, still giving her a wry smile. "I do. Honestly, I probably wouldn't stand up for myself. Part of me wonders if your mom and my dad would even be in a relationship had I not fallen that summer."

Heather frowned. "What do you mean?"

"From what your mom told me, she walked in on dad at the office at a low point during my recovery. It was after I had surgery, and he was picking up some papers he needed to continue to work on a few cases here. You probably heard the angry, passionate side of my father earlier."

Heather winced. "A bit, yes."

"Well, I think your mom had to practically pick him up from the angry, sad, stressed version of himself - including the slamming of items across the room." Hiccup hesitated a little bit when he said this. "Dad's not mean, really."

"Just passionate," Heather said with a laugh. Hiccup looked at her questionably, but she waved him off. "I get it. No need to continue explaining it." His eyes still glared at her questionably, but he finally dismissed it.

"Anyways, she's worked for my dad since we were really little kids. Like, I don't know, at least, six or seven years?"

Heather nodded. "I remember when she started putting on the nice suits and dressing business-y. It was a side to her I hadn't seen before. She was excited, and confident. Honestly, I rarely ever saw her come home from work in a bad mood. Maybe here or there. But, Hiccup, most of the time, she really enjoys her job…This was, before she even started seeing your dad."

Hiccup gave a small smile. "But, Heather, no. I honestly would probably be running away as fast as I can from Brock and Rudy, and whomever else came at me. I did back in elementary school. When I started running cross country and track, the bullying stopped a bit. Part of me thinks joining some sort of sport basically gave me a right of passage into the A-crowd, or at least a pass from the tormentors."

A sad face fell over her features. "That's really upsetting."

"Eh, just something I noticed. Did I still get picked on? Yeah, by Snot mainly. But, not near as bad. It was more verbal and snide comments. I can deal with all of that. The level Rudy and Brock have taken it, no. I'd run as fast as I could to get away and just hope I made it out without looking like this." He gestured to his face.

Heather sighed. "I'm trying to figure out what to do. A part of me thinks that if I were actually still at the high school, he'd just be coming directly to me by trying to court me again. That way he wasn't picking on you and trying to get to me through you and everyone else."

Hiccup paused. "He's tried to get to you through other people?"

Heather nodded, a look of guilt on her face. "I haven't told Mom." Her voice grew quiet. "Two of my girlfriends told me he's reached out to them. Sage, of course. Brock has found him. Sage just blocked him and waved it off since the diner incident. He tried to get in touch with me through my cousin…I - I just don't know what else to do." A look of fear spread across her face. "Other than unblocking him and messaging him directly myself."

Hiccup shook his head back and forth. "No, no no," he said. "Don't."

He could see her eyes begin to glisten a little, but she sucked in her emotion, and smiled at him. "Sage asked me not to, so I won't. But, I fear for you and Astrid."

He agreed. "I'm worried about her, too. So far, outside of the whole group incident, she's been left alone for the most part."

"He won't touch her. He will just go directly for you."

"Have you ever seen him do something like this before?" Hiccup asked.

Shaking her head, she pulled her long ponytail over her shoulder, nervously. "I - I keep thinking more and more about it. He and I dated for a good while in high school. Granted, he was also seeing someone else - " A look of anger and annoyance shown on her face. " - but, I kinda wonder if I was the one that got away. I broke up with him. I think it really just deals with the chase at this point, Hiccup."

A moment of silence separated them for a short time.

"He won't stop," Hiccup said, suddenly. "Until he's won the race."

Heather sighed, and nodded. "That is what I am afraid of."

"You cannot take the car, Hiccup."

Hiccup groaned loudly. He didn't know if he was more annoyed at being told "no" or if it was the fact that his father wouldn't look up from his papers long enough to talk to him.

"Why can't I just borrow the car for - an hour?"

"I told you no," Mr. Vast said. "There's plenty for you to do around here - "

"Dad, it's Saturday. I really just want a change of scenery."

"What is Astrid doing today?" Finally, his father looked up from him, putting his pen down and giving Hiccup his full attention.

"I don't know," Hiccup responded, leaning heavily against his crutches. "I haven't asked."

Mr. Vast studied him. "I don't necessarily believe that one."

A growl escaped Hiccup's throat. "Dad, I am tired of being cooped up in this house! All I am asking from you is to just let me go for a drive. I need some air. I feel like a caged animal right now - "

"After what happened to you yesterday, I would prefer that you stick close to home - "

"Dad, I didn't do anything wrong - "

His father glared at him. "Perhaps if you'd told the school what happened, I'd feel comfortable letting you leave the house - "

"Seriously?" Hiccup interrupted him. "You are punishing me for something I could not help that happened, and because I didn't go tattle -tale on someone."

"That is not what I am doing."

"Sure seems like it," Hiccup said.

"What has gotten into you?" Mr. Vast asked, his tone becoming more stern towards Hiccup than before. "Usually, you ask, and I say no, and you leave me alone to work. This is the fourth time you've interrupted me today, and now you are arguing with me about my verdict."

"I - need - air," Hiccup said, letting a sigh escape. "I just want to get out of this house."

"You are staying here for the weekend, Hiccup. End of discussion."

"Dad - "

"No!" His father's eyes darted up at him, anger surging through them like fire. "I will not sit here and allow you to argue with me."

"Why do I feel like I am grounded?"

"Seriously?" Mr. Vast said, standing up. Hiccup startled, and lost his balance on his crutches, falling backwards into the door. He steadied himself again. "I am just trying to keep you safe. Can you not see this?"

"I see it, Dad. I do. But, I need space. I just want to go for a drive, maybe grab a burger, and come home. Is that so bad?"

Mr. Vast placed his hands on his sides, and sighed. He let out a breath, and glanced up at Hiccup.

"Do your old man a favor. Go look in the mirror. Perhaps you will understand why I'd rather you stay home for the weekend."

At this point, Hiccup couldn't look at his father, or argue for that matter. He'd woken up that morning seeing the black and blue patches beginning to show up along his jaw and cheek. His face was sore. Honestly, he was not sure if his father was trying to protect him, or keep him out of the public eye because of work. More than likely both, but Hiccup wanted to escape. He'd only had eight hours out of the house for the last few weeks, and it wasn't enough. With everything going on, he was anxious and stir-crazy.

Finally accepting his fate, Hiccup let out a breath, and started to swing himself out of the office space.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, and left the room.

Stoick found Hiccup's door closed less than an two hours later. He knocked gently, but didn't get a response. He turned the handle, and a breath of relief escaped his chest. He was worried he'd been locked out.

Hiccup had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed over his sketching pad. His phone was within his reach. His crutches laid sprawled out around the bed frame. It took Stoick's less sensitive ears to hear the soft melody of piano music through the earbuds. The boy had attempted to find some peace with what he had provided to him at the time. It wasn't the car, or the porch, or a hike on the trail. He'd found comfort in a few joys at the house, at least. This relieved Stoick a little, because he did feel a little guilty telling Hiccup "no" earlier.

The last thing he'd wanted to say to Hiccup was "no." The fault was not on Hiccup. He just kept getting caught in the middle of some horrible game of target practice. He was not in trouble what-so-ever, and the only reasoning he could really give Hiccup was that he was fearful of what would happen to him if Brock or Rudy caught him out in public alone.

As a teenager, he hated to admit it, but he was more like Brock and Rudy. He'd been the class jock. Being the all-star on the varsity football team had gone to his head a little too much. Untouchable is what he thought he was. He'd been arrogant and cocky, and sadly had instigated a few altercations with some nerds that were members of the debate team, or the science club. It was his way of not drawing attention to the fact that he held a 3.9 GPA for the longest time. Most of his friends barely had a C average in school. And, the only reason they held that was because they needed it to play football.

Stoick knew, now that he was older and wiser, that not everyone did well athletically or academically. While Stoick had been good at both, Hiccup was absolutely better with words, numbers, sketching…and probably any sport that was no-contact. Because his grades were so good, and he was just an all around good kid, it bothered Stock to tell him "no" when he clearly needed a different outlet than what was in front of him.

Just to ease some of his worry, Stoick reached down and smoothed Hiccup's bangs back. The boy didn't stir at all. Stoick noted his slow breathing in and out, then gently pulled the sketch pad from under his son's arms, tensing at the thought of stirring him awake. However, if Hiccup were to drool he'd probably be upset that he'd done it on the sketch.

However, when Stoick looked down at the page, he found the artistic style of what he would have found in a comic book. There was a figure sitting in bed, wrapped up in a thick blanket. A bubble trailed from the head of the figure, which showed a very animated drawing of a boy dressed in a track uniform, breaking through a ribbon, arms up in the air with a big smile on his face.

Under the drawing, Stoick noticed the words, "When will I win this race?"

Stoick felt a ping of pain run through him, then he closed the sketching pad and sat it down gently beside his son on the bed. After confirming Hiccup was still asleep, and took his leave of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

He headed towards the kitchen and started the coffee pot. Usually he wouldn't drink coffee this late into the afternoon, but after the sleepless night of worrying he had, he indeed needed an extra boost to get through the day.

After pouring the creamer, creating the amber-brown liquid, he headed towards the porch swing; Hiccup's favorite past-time at the house these days. He sat and sipped his coffee, thinking while he watched the cars go by. He saw someone run the traffic light, heard the obnoxious honk of another driver, and chuckled to himself. That was how Hiccup and Astrid came to be. That was their start.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He already knew who it was. Or, at least, he thought he had. Instead of Katherine calling him, the caller ID showed Jason Hofferson.

"Hello?" he said quietly.

"Hi, Stoick," Mr. Hofferson said. "How's your Saturday going?"

They exchanged a few words back and forth…typical small talk. "How's business going?" and "Will we see each other in court this week?"

"Something tells me you didn't call about work, though," Mr. Vast said to Mr. Hofferson. "What's up?"

"Well, Darcy and I have been getting little snip-its about what happened to Hiccup yesterday…." Jason began.

Mr. Vast mopped his hand over his face. "Yeah, that," he replied through half of his fingers, causing his voice to be a little muffled on the other end.

"How's Hiccup doing?"

"Eh, well, he's upset that I won't let him out of the house, honestly. He's asked for the keys to the car a few times. I get it, but after yesterday I am honestly debating on whether or not I can send him to school this coming week. He just wants out of the house for some normalcy. He can't seem to grasp that I am keeping him here to protect him. Brock and Rudy could run into him anywhere he goes, and I don't want to chance him getting hurt again."

"I get that," Jason sympathized. "Astrid barely wanted to bring it up to me. But, I overheard a conversation she was having with one of her friends, and once that was over with I asked. Took some prying but she finally told me what happened."

"I can't get Hiccup to report it," Mr. Vast said. "He just left the school and didn't say a word."

"I have had victims of crimes tell me they fear if they report it the next incident will be worse than the next. In the end it is Hiccup's choice whether to report it or not. I can't take a statement unless he reports it to the school. And, I am only hearing from Astrid what happened. Not Hiccup."

Mr. Vast sighed. "Katherine is worried. And, I am not sure if Astrid was uncomfortable here last night for dinner. It was kind of tense after I came home from work and found Hiccup had been in a scuffle again. If she was, I do apologize."

Mr. Hofferson laughed. "Trust me, she is fine."

"I hope so," Mr. Vast said. "By the way, is Astrid planning on making a visit here today? I was not sure if Hiccup asked her to come over or not. Since I told Hiccup he couldn't leave, I wondered if he asked her over."

"She hasn't said anything to me about it but that doesn't mean she may not be over. I know she was going to make brownies with her mom, and after that I am not sure what she will be doing."

"Okay," Mr. Vast sighed.

"If you guys need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Will do, Jason, thank you."

Hiccup woke up from his nap feeling worse for wear than he had when he'd fallen asleep. His head ached, and in general he just felt down. After grabbing a glass of orange juice, he wondered out to the porch swing. It had begun to rain, cooling down the air more than it already had been for the early spring spring day.

Sipping his orange juice, he watched traffic go by. Red car, blue truck. Yellow sports car, green SUV. He listened to the splish-splash of the water on the asphalt as the tires cut through the uneven spots that were gathering shallow puddles. A horn honked at a green light, and someone pressed the gas to go…

Hiccup pushed lightly on the concrete floor beneath his feet, causing the swing to rock gently. He pulled his hood up over his ears to shield some of the chill from his face.

Another, honk, only this time someone wasn't laying off of the wheel. His eyes glanced up from his haze, looking to see what was causing the driver some tension. He nearly dropped his glass on top of himself.

Astrid was getting out of her car across the street, shielding her face from the water with her own hood, carrying a plate of something with tinfoil over it. However, that wasn't why he'd nearly dropped his juice. Two cars up from Astrid, he saw Brock and Rudy leaning against the back of Brock's hitch glaring up at Hiccup.

"Astrid - " Hiccup breathed, standing to meet her at the edge of the porch. She was already on the step when he'd noticed the two jerks standing there.

"Hiccup, hi," she said, absent from the panic flowing through Hiccup. He grabbed her hand and rushed her towards the door. "Hiccup, what - "

Hiccup turned around, and saw Brock's head tilt back in a head-nod. Here it was the weekend. It was clear now that Hiccup was not going to escape Brock.