The Outcast and The Night Fury

Chapter Fifteen

Darkness pressed down on me like a heavy blanket. I was vaguely aware that I was lying on my back, on something warm and soft…and that somehow it didn't make sense.

But I was too tired and sleepy to try to figure it out.

I could hear voices talking somewhere nearby, quiet and somber, but I couldn't make out the words. I wanted them to hush, because I just wanted to sleep again. I tried to tell them, but speaking took too much effort. I was too weak and exhausted, and I couldn't force my voice to work properly.

I must have made some sound though, because suddenly one of the voices came near.

"Hiccup? It's all right, son. Everything's going to be all right. I'm here, and-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."

Dad? It sounded like him, and he had called me 'son', but Dad's voice was never that gentle, or choked-up-like. He usually sounded annoyed or disappointed when he spoke to me.

Well, I couldn't puzzle it out now; I was drifting off. But before I lost consciousness, a large hand smoothed my hair—and I thought I felt a kiss on my forehead.

Sometime later I woke to darkness again, except this time it was literal. I was able to open my eyes and realized that I was lying in bed in a dim room. I also realized at once that it wasn't my bed or my room, but that I was in a hospital. There were several machines behind the bed, softly beeping as they measured my heart rate and blood pressure, and who knows what all, and an IV connected to my right hand.

Dad was sitting in a chair beside me, holding my left hand. He was dozing, with his head propped against the back of the chair. I studied his face for a moment, and then looked down at our entwined hands. I couldn't remember Dad ever holding my hand before. If he had, it must have been when I was really little.

For some reason, I felt like crying.

I wondered why I was in the hospital, and then it all rushed back into my mind—the poachers, the fight with Dad, the Center dragons flying all of us to the freighter, and the confrontation with Grimmel there.

What had happened to Toothless? What had happened to everyone else?

I caught my breath and struggled to sit up, but I felt strangely numb and heavy and it was hard to move.

The slight movement woke Dad up.

He opened his eyes, then realized that I was awake and trying to sit up.

"Easy, son. Lie still. It's all right." He held my shoulders to stop me, but again, his touch was unusually gentle. Then he laid his hand against the side of my face. "How do you feel?"

"What-?" My voice was scratchy and weak. I paused and tried again. "Toothless? Is he okay?"

Dad nodded. "He's fine. He's at home, and from what Sly tells me, your friends are having a difficult time keeping him from flying here and trying to sneak in to see you."

I could feel the corners of my mouth turn up a little. "Really?"

"Well, I've been here with you the past few days. But that's what Sly said."

"Is everyone else all right?" I whispered.

"Yes, everyone's fine. That poacher who was shot is here too. He was in critical condition at first, but I think he's expected to recover," Dad told me.

"Eret," I said. "He tried to save us from Grimmel."

"That's what the other kids said," Dad agreed. "I think the Archipelago Guards may work out some deal with him."

"The Center dragons?"

"Oh, they're all right too," Dad actually smiled slightly. "Sven and Phlegma decided they were able to be released from the Center, but apparently they've moved into our old stables now."

"And you're letting them stay?"

Dad sighed. "I suppose I'll worry about that once we get home."

"Toothless can stay, can't he?" I asked anxiously.

Dad hesitated, and I spoke as quickly as I could. "He's not a wild animal, Dad. He's like a person. He's smart and he has emotions. He can even talk. Not just like a parrot or something. He can really think and talk."

"So I've heard," Dad replied. "I admit, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that one."

"It's true," I insisted. "Please, Dad. He's my best friend—my only friend."

Maybe it was because I couldn't bear the thought of losing Toothless, or because I was so worn out, but my eyes filled with tears that slipped from the corners and slid down my cheeks.

"Shh." Dad brushed my tears away, and while I was still in shock from that, he said, "I suppose Toothless can stay—if I'm completely convinced that he's not a threat to you."

That would be all right, I knew. If Dad was willing to meet Toothless, he would see. I squeezed Dad's hand as hard as I could, which wasn't very hard.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Dad started to say something, but then he stopped and we were silent for a moment. Now that I knew everyone else was all right, I forced myself to think about something that I hadn't wanted to before.

"Why am I here?"

"Do you remember some metal containers falling on your leg?" Dad asked.

That memory came rushing back too, and I looked to see a thick cast on my lower left leg, from the knee down.

"Is Grimmel dead?" I asked.

Dad hesitated, before nodding. "Yes."

I didn't respond and Dad continued. "You had to defend yourself, Hiccup. He would have killed you. You have no reason to feel guilty."

I hoped it didn't make me a terrible person, but I didn't feel guilty, not about Grimmel's death at least. Because Dad was right. Grimmel had tried to kill Eret. He would have killed me and the other kids, and he would have taken Toothless and the Center dragons off to some unknown destination and who knows what would have happened to them.

I felt guilty about endangering everyone, but no, I didn't feel bad about Grimmel.

It occurred to me though, that Dad seemed to think I was responsible for Grimmel's demise. He hadn't mentioned Toothless slinging him away from me. I decided that it might not be the best time to mention Toothless' role. After all, I didn't want Dad to think he was dangerous. Then again, Toothless had saved my life, so maybe Dad would approve. Perhaps Toothless and I could talk with him about it later.

Dad was still talking now anyway. "The containers crushed the lower part of your leg. We're very lucky that the doctors were able to save it. At first they were afraid they would have to amputate. But somehow they were able to piece the bones back together and they put in some metal rods and pins to stabilize them. You're going to be in a cast for some time, but you should make a full recovery."

"That's good," I mumbled. I looked back down at my leg. "How long do I have to have a cast?"

Dad shook his head. "I'm not sure. The doctors aren't sure. They said probably a couple months in the hard cast, then three or four months in an air boot, depending on how quickly the bones heal. Then you'll need physical therapy for a few weeks."

"Sounds fun," I sighed.

"You're very lucky to still have that leg," Dad said somberly. "You're lucky to be alive, actually. You were in severe shock when the Archipelago Guards boarded the freighter. They called a life-flight helicopter to rush you to the hospital and the paramedics said that your heart-," Dad paused and swallowed hard. "Your heart stopped beating on the flight. They were able to get it going again, but you almost died."

He laid his hand on the side of my cheek again. "I almost lost you."

"Dad—" I started, but then I wasn't sure what to say, and it was hard to speak past the lump in my throat.

"Hiccup, I've spent the past four days begging God to let you live and thinking about all the things we need to talk about, but now that I have the chance, I'm not sure how to say it." Dad looked straight into my eyes and said softly, "Except that I love you so much, with all my heart, and I'm sorry that I've done such a poor job of showing it."

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said—that you feel that you've never been good enough for me, that you feel like-I hate you." Dad leaned close and said softly, but intently. "Hiccup, I have always loved you and I'm so sorry that I made you feel otherwise. I've been remembering the time when you were born and we didn't think you were going to make it. You were in this same hospital then, too, for months."

"We were so excited to have a baby and we were so looking forward to you being born and being part of our family. But then you were premature, and the doctors kept warning us that you might not make it. We couldn't even hold you for a long time because you had to be in an incubator and you were hooked up to all these machines. That was the scariest time of my life—until these past few days. When you were strong enough to get out of the incubator and come home, that was the happiest time of my life. I remember when I finally got to hold you in my arms, that was just the most special feeling. You were such a gift-a miracle-and I vowed to myself that I would always protect you and keep you safe. But then somehow, I let things go wrong, and I let things get bad between us."

Sometime while Dad was speaking, I had begun to cry quietly, and now he moved to sit on the side of the bed and very carefully pulled me into his arms. I clutched at him, wrapping my fingers around the soft wool of his sweater and burying my face against his shoulder. Dad held me close and bowed his head close to mine.

"I'm still trying to understand it myself, and I'm not making excuses. But you know your grandparents—my parents—died in a car accident not long after you came home, and then your mom and I divorced less than a year later, and I think all those losses had a bad effect on me. I think I became afraid of losing anyone else, and I closed myself off to a degree, even from you. Especially from you, because I loved you so much, I couldn't bear to think of losing you too. So I started distancing myself a bit. I didn't do it consciously. I didn't think about it and consciously make that decision. But looking back, I can see it."

Dad had been speaking in a heavy, sad voice. Now he trailed off and we were silent for a while. I cried, my tears soaking into his sweater, and I think Dad may cried a little too, as astonishing as that seemed to me.

I didn't want to sleep again. I had always longed to be close to Dad and being held and feeling loved was the most amazing thing. But I was so tired, and safe and warm. I could feel sleep tugging at me, pulling me back to oblivion. I fought against it though when Dad spoke again.

"Hiccup, you deserve someone much better than me, but if you could give me another chance, I promise things will be different. Once we're back home, I'm going to see a counselor, to make sure I'm handling my fears in a healthy way and not letting them hurt you, to make sure that I'm doing right for you and being the best father I can be, because I love you and I want us to be close. I want to be the father you deserve, if you're willing to give me the chance."

I leaned back a little so I could look at Dad, and even though I thought he might have cried, I was still a little surprised to see the tears on his face. I guess, maybe he really did love me. I thought of all he said, and I knew that I wanted that too. I always had.

"I love you too, Dad," I whispered. "I'm sorry I said I hated you. I always loved you. I just didn't think you loved me."

Pain flashed across his face, but then Dad hugged me again before gently laying me back down and tucking the sheet around me. I closed my eyes, but before I drifted off I heard him say,

"It's going to be all right, son. Everything's going to be all right."

Author's Notes: It's a short chapter, but it seemed like a good stopping point. In the next chapter, the other kids will come to see Hiccup, and there will be a surprise visitor!

Thank you for reading!