*11th Doctor's voice* HEEEELLLOOOOOO!
Sooooo, I haven't updated for a few days, and...I am so sorry. So, I made this chapter the length of two chapters! *hits applause button* *robotic kid's voice* YYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY.
Alright! :D So, hopefully you enjoy this. :D
Hiccup ate, watching as Valka walked back and forth, tidying up the house for no good reason.
"Are you sure you don't want me to do something?" Hiccup asked.
"Positive, Hiccup," Valka said. "For the last time, now, sweetie. I want you to take it easy."
"But I just feel so bad sitting here watching you do everything," Hiccup complained. "I want to do something to help you-"
"You can," Valka said, "by just doing what you're doing."
Hiccup frowned, but didn't make any other comment. After another ten minutes, when he had finished his bowl of soup, he tried tp supress a yawn. However, Valka caught it, and instantly approached him.
"Tired?" she asked.
Hiccup nodded. "I don't understand why, though," he said. "I was just fine a minute ago, and I've been sleeping so much recently..."
"Your body's worn out, Hiccup," Valka said. "You may have been sleeping a lot recently, but all your strength has been used fighting off your virus. All in all, you're exuatsed."
"I'm tired of being tired," Hiccup moaned, resting his head on the table and closing his eyes. Valka smiled sadly at him.
"I know," she said. "I know, son. You'll feel better after some more rest. Come on, now. Let's get you to your room."
"I'm fine," Hiccup insisted as he stood up, motioning to himself when his mother reached forward in order to help him to his loft. "I can walk." His actions betrayed his words. He was exhausted, and he felt every bit of it. He would have sank to the ground if Valka hadn't stepped forward and grabbed him.
"Yes, you're fine, and I'm the Chief," Valka teased. Hiccup pouted. "Alright, sorry," she said, leading her son to his room.
"Nah, it's alright," Hiccup said. "I probably would have said the same thing. Well, maybe not the same thing, since I am the Chief, and...ah, I'm tired." He put his hand to his forehead for emphasis.
"I know, dear," Valka said. "Let's try to get to your bed before you fall asleep, alright?"
Hiccup nodded. When they finally climbed the steps, Hiccup practically collapsed to his bed, draping his arm over his eyes promptly afterwards. Valka closed the windows to keep sunlight from streaming through, while Hiccup rolled over on his side, trying to find a comfortable position. Valka covered him warmly, smiling when he finally closed his eyes. She bent down, brushed his bangs back, and kissed his forehead gently.
"Sleep well, Hiccup," she whispered. Hiccup cracked his eyes open, smiled, and then fell asleep.
Valka watched over him for another few minutes, reminding herself often that he was recovering, and did't need her hovering over him constantly. However, she couldn't help doing it for at least a few minutes. She had gotten into the habit of it while he was ill, and the habit still stuck.
At length, when she remembered that being at Hiccup's bedside didn't help him sleep, she headed back downstairs, unsure of just what it was she was going to do. She decided, in the end, that she needed her own sleep. She was no good at helping Hiccup if she was just as exhausted as he was. So, she headed to her room, and sleep came almost instantly.
...
Valka bolted upright with the feeling that something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on just what it was. It just seemed...off. Something was wrong, and there was only one possible thing that could have been wrong.
It had to do with Hiccup. That was Valka's conclusion. Something was wrong with Hiccup.
She was on her feet faster than one would have imagined, skipping every other step as she ran up the stairs. Hiccup was tossing and turning, yet appeared to be awake. He rolled over on his side and regarded his mother wearily as she crossed the room, kneeling in front of him.
"Mom," he rasped, coughing harshly afterwards.
"Sh, sh, sh," Valka soothed. "No, you don't need to speak. Save your strength, dear." She put her hand on his forehead, and drew it back sharply as if he would burn her. For a moment, she thought that maybe he would. His forehead was sweltering.
After just a moment, she placed the back of her hand on his head again. He leaned into her touch.
"I'll be right back, okay?" she promised him as she stood to leave and get something to bring his fever down with. However, she froze when Hiccup grabbed her hand. There was weakness in his grip to the point where anyone would have been able to pull away, and it made Valka worried. She sat back down on the bed, subconsciously holding her son's hand.
"Don't...don't go..." Hiccup moaned. Now it looked as if he was sleeping, tossing his head as if it would make his fever lose its grip.
Valka wanted to stay with him after hearing his weak, desperate voice, but she knew that if she didn't get his fever down...
"I will be right back, Hiccup," she said forcefully, putting emphasis on each of her words.
"Please..." Hiccup pleaded. "Don't...go." On his last word, a breath escaped him, and his head lolled to the side. He was either finally sleeping, or his fever had taken his consciousness. Either way, it didn't help Valka's worries. If anything, it just made it worse. Hiccup's breathing was harsh and uneven, yet deep as if he had just finished running a marathon. Valka got to her feet and raced outside, taking a bucket with her. She filled it with snow, and then ran back to Hiccup's room.
It only took her a few seconds to get the snow, and yet Hiccup looked so much worse. Valka scooped snow out of the bucket and pressed it to his forehead. He didn't protest or move. Valka figured now that he was unconscious.
After working for over an hour with no results, Valka started to panic. She couldn't get his fever down, and he didn't wake up. He wasn't sweating, and he wasn't shivering. The only movement was the heaving rise and fall of his chest.
At length, after an undetermined time period (Valka wasn't really paying attention anymore), Hiccup stirred. It got Valka's attention as soon as it happened, and she was instantly whispering his name, running her fingers through his hair in hopes that it would wake him up.
"Hiccup," she said gently yet forcefully both at the same time. "Hiccup, come on, sweetie, wake up." At that point, she needed him to wake up and tell her that he was okay, like he always did. She needed the reassurance of his eyes opening, even if he didn't speak. His throat seemed raw, so, she thought, maybe it would be better if he didn't actually speak. All he had to do was open his eyes, and that would be enough for Valka.
And open his eyes he did, after a little bit more coaxing on Valka's part. He gazed up at Valka drowsily, as if he couldn't fully see her. He inhaled as if to speak, but Valka shushed him before he even got a word out. She stroked his cheek gently, and he closed his eyes after another moment.
"Mom," he whispered.
"Yes, love?"
"I'm..." Hiccup coughed once, cutting himself off. "I'm scared."
"I know," Valka said, although now that Hiccup said those two little words, she was terrified. He was never one to tell her how he really felt, and now that he said it out loud, she was more worried than ever before.
"I know, but you'll be alright," she promised. "You'll be alright, Hiccup."
Hiccup didn't respond, and Valka hadn't expected him to, either. After many more pathetic attempts to get his fever down, failing each time, and after many more moans and whimpers and feverish pleas of "Don't go" and "I don't want to be alone" from Hiccup, Valka scooped him into her arms and held him there, putting her cheek on his burning forehead. He sighed, sinking deeped into her cradling arms, trying to find either warmth or cool, Valka couldn't tell. He wasn't shivering, but that didn't mean he looked particullarly comfortable or warm. He did seem to be relaxed in her hold, but that was the only difference. He was still hot, he was still sick, he was still feverish, and he was still suffering.
Ten minutes passed, and Hiccup's breathing became even more shallow.
Twenty minutes passed, and it seemed he were hardly breathing at all.
An hour passed, and he was shivering.
An hour and a half passed, and he was forced into coughing fits at different bouts, each one seeming more intense and painful than the last.
Two hours passed, and everything went quiet. The onl thing indicating that Hiccup was allive at all was the small, barely noticable rise and fall of his chest, along with his dulled, green eyes, half-lidded as he gazed up at his mother's face. Valka's attention never left him.
Another half an hour passed, and Hiccup stopped breathing. His heart didn't beat. His eyes slipped shut. He went completely limp. Valka didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was clear.
He was dead.
She had failed him, and this time, there was no going back and making up for it.
...
Valka bolted upright with a small shriek. She was on her bed, in her own room, gasping from the shock and real feeling of the nightmare. It took her a moment to register the fact that she had been dreaming. It wasn't real. Hiccup wasn't dead...
Hiccup.
The nightmare had seemed too real to be fake. Before she fully knew what she was doing, Valka found herself running, not bothering to keep her footsteps silent. If Hiccup was dead, then it wasn't as if he would wake up by them.
It was dark outside, but Valka hardly registered that. She skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, just as she stepped inside Hiccup's loft.
He was sleeping peacefully, curled into himself on his side. Valka could see the rising and falling of his chest clearly, but she was still worried. She didn't know for sure. Was he unconscious, or was he sleeping naturally? Did he have a fever? Was his breathing raspy, as it was in the dream?
She found herself approaching him, and then putting her hand on his forehead. He felt warm, but that was probably only because he was covered in multiple blankets. He could have had a minor fever, but it was to be expected. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. There was a bit of a wheeze to his breath, but once again, it was to be expected. He was recovering from tularemia. All his symptoms so far were to be expected.
She knew that waking him up probably wasn't the best idea, and she also knew that he needed his rest, but she was also so scared for him. The nightmare had seemed far, far too realistic. So, she put one of her hands on his shoulder, and then shook him gently.
His eyes fluttered open, and he regarded her drowsily. "Mom?" he asked. "What...what is it?" She sighed, so relieved in hearing his voice that she forgot to answer his question.
"What's wrong?" Hiccup asked. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Valka whispered. "Nothing worth waking you up over. I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"No, s'alright," Hiccup slurred, his voice thick with sleep. He closed his eyes, laying his head down on his pillow again. "What...what was wrong?"
"Just a dream," Valka said.
She had to remind herself that Hiccup was right in front of her, recoveing nicely, and that her nightmare wasn't reality, no matter how real it had seemed.