A/N – Right on time, here we go! (Kind of. I aimed to have it up yesterday, but wouldn't allow me to log in. I ended up having to change my password and clap while running in place, but hey, I'm here.)

I also posted this story on Ao3, if any of you like that site better.

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Chapter 9

Hiccup set his coffee mug into the sink and yanked the roll of paper towels from its holder. He started to dab the spilled coffee before it stained the grout; he'd seen his mother wash the grout in their bathroom before on her hands and knees with an old toothbrush. He did not want to clean that much.

He kept glancing at the kitchen door where Astrid had stood – to him, only moments before, when in fact it had been over one hundred years since she'd stood there.

Mess cleaned, Hiccup crouched for a while on the kitchen floor. These trans-time crossings were happening more frequently, alarmingly so. Between them, he felt off, like he'd been up too long and his brain had stopped working properly. It all bothered him, but he couldn't stop them. He needed to find out what happened and how it happened. And to do that, he needed to go back.

He tossed the used paper towels into the trash and stuck the roll back on its rod. His legs shook. He poured a glass of water and headed back into the office. First, he checked his email. No answer had come from HesaCow45.

Should he send him another one? Should he tell him how frequent the trans-time crossings have been happening? Should he imply urgency? Hiccup didn't know what he expected to come about, answers, maybe, some magical theory that would explain how, why, and most importantly, why him and why now and why this house.

Too many whys.

Hiccup drank half the water in one gulp.

He started to type up another email, but instead of sending it, he saved it as a draft. Seeing the words out there made him realize how much he didn't want anyone to know about it, not yet at least.

Should he even include it in the book? People out there were waiting for a reason to call his bluff; he had enough doubters to fill entire stadiums. Would the literary world see it as too far into the fictional side of things? Would they suggest he'd lost his edge? That he was slowly starting to lose his mind?

Hiccup was starting to doubt his sanity, too.

But what was he to do? He wouldn't leave the house – that's out of the question. First, he'd already bought the place. Second, he couldn't leave Astrid here.

Hiccup finished the water. He flipped open his notebook, but his notes looked disorganized. None of it made sense anymore. It had before, right?

He stood and walked his empty glass to the kitchen. He refilled it with water and walked out the kitchen door. He hadn't spent much time on the grounds of the house; he'd never been much of a yard-keeper, and it was beginning to show. The grass around the house had been trimmed and cut short when he'd bought it, but it had started to grow back. Already, weeds were poking up around the small wooden patio that extended from the backdoor.

Hiccup spied the spot where, quite a long time ago, Eret had been chopping wood. Hiccup meandered out to the spot. It had been long since taken over with grass. New trees had sprung up since; a few oaks and maples, and one he couldn't identify. One tall oak had been there at least since Astrid had lived there. It was too big not to have been. Hiccup started toward it; had Astrid once stood under it?

Hiccup reached the thick trunk and place a hand on the rough bark. He blinked, but didn't notice a change until a girlish voice sounded on the other side of the tree.

"You're joking," she said; Hiccup recognized the voice at once as Astrid's.

"I am not," said another, deeper tone.

Hiccup jerked his heard toward the house; the wood pile had returned, the trees shrunk, the house altered ever so slightly. He tiptoed around the tree. Astrid and Eret sat on the other side. He'd walked up behind Astrid. She and Eret sat together underneath the shady oak.

Eret stretched his arms out wide and said, "It was at least this long and as big as my wrist."

"I've seen plenty of snakes," Astrid said. "For a snake to be that big around, it would have to have been a lot longer. And, those types of snakes don't live around here."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"I read about it in one of my dad's books."

Eret scoffed. "Books are written by people, you know, and people lie all the time."

"Like you?"

Eret frowned indignantly, but Astrid laughed.

"Besides," Astrid said, "if you found a snake that big, why not come show it off first?"

Eret waved away her question, and said, "I didn't want to frighten you."

"Frighten me? Do you know who you're talking to?"

"I do, unfortunately, which is why I didn't show it to you," Eret said. "It's not fun when I know it wouldn't have done anything. And I'm not hauling a dragon-sized snake across the yard just so you could not be frightened by it."

"How courteous of you," Astrid said.

"I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman."

"A real gentleman wouldn't feel the need to brag."

"I didn't brag, I didn't bring the snake."

"Yet you've told me more about it than if you'd just brought the damn thing."

Eret pretended to look abashed. He put a hand to his chest, and said, "Young lady, that is no way to speak. I know your mother taught you manners. You'll not get anywhere with a mouth like that."

"Oh, I've heard my mother say it a thousand times," Astrid said. "She just won't admit it."

"You Hofferson women are saucy," Eret said, smiling.

"We're not holding you captive," Astrid said.

"I wouldn't mind if you did."

The scene reminded Hiccup of an older movie, but he couldn't remember which. Eret might have been twelve; Astrid might have been ten. They were flirting like children, mimicking what they'd seen adults do, and it came about with a sweetness that made Hiccup grin. Until, that is, Eret kissed Astrid on the mouth.

It was a short, sweet, and innocent peck, but Hiccup felt a sudden burning of invasion in his chest. He'd gripped the tree without meaning to; he let go at once. How ridiculous. Despite the time and space between them, he'd felt jealous. He shouldn't, he knew. They were children. They weren't in love.

Astrid had something else to say, but was cut short by the sound of a horse approaching. A single horse, by the sounds. Hooves galloped down the road and then came to a halt in front of the house.

"Who's that?" Astrid asked.

Eret jumped to his feet first. He and Astrid started around the house. Hiccup followed. The three of them walked around the side of the house to the front in time to see a man in a Union uniform hand a letter to Mrs. Hofferson. He held the reins of the horse he'd ridden in his other hand.

Mrs. Hofferson trembled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said the official.

Eret darted toward the porch with Astrid close on his heels.

"What is it, Mother?" Astrid said. She and Eret reached the porch, but Mrs. Hofferson clasp the letter to her chest.

"Never you mind," Mrs. Hofferson said quickly, her voice trembling. "Get inside, both of you."

"We're sorry, Ma'am," said the official. He climbed back onto his horse. He had other letters to deliver, it seemed; Hiccup spotted a thick bundle of them inside his jacket and more in a saddle bag.

"I understand," Mrs. Hofferson said, teary-eyed. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

The official tipped his hat and rode away. Mrs. Hofferson trembled a long moment on the porch. Eret and Astrid stood in the doorway to the house. Finally, she climbed the stairs and retreated into the sitting room, where she collapsed into one of the chairs, and sobbed.

"What is it?" Astrid whispered to Eret.

He shrugged.

"I'll make some tea," Astrid said, and she strode into the kitchen.

Eret stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Hiccup walked into the sitting room and tried to peer at the letter Mrs. Hofferson clutched. It might hold a date, or a name, or something that might give him a good starting point of research. But she hadn't opened it. It had been addressed to her and Astrid.

Eret finally came into the room and sat down on the sofa. He said softly, "Mrs. Hofferson, what is it?"

"There's only one reason they'd send official word like this," Mrs. Hofferson said woefully. "It's not good news. It's never good news. They never send home good news."

Hiccup's heart sank. He had a strong suspicion of what the letter said.

"Do you think…" Eret started, but didn't finish.

"One of them's dead," Mrs. Hofferson said so quietly, yet in the house, it sounded like a shout.

Astrid walked into the room with a mug of tea, one of the cups that had remained in the house, and set it gingerly into her mother's hands.

"Thank you, dear," she said.

"Who is it?" Astrid asked.

Mrs. Hofferson didn't answer. "It doesn't matter. Either way, my heart will break."

Slowly, Mrs. Hofferson edged the letter open. Her shaking hand withdrew a folded bit of unlined paper. Her eyes read, and as she reached the name, she broke down into tears. Astrid slipped the letter from her hands, and she and Eret bent in to read the dire news for themselves.

"My baby boy," Mrs. Hofferson sobbed.

"Willie's gone?" Astrid asked. She tucked the letter back into the envelope. "Mother, come upstairs and rest."

Mrs. Hofferson gave no objections. She and Eret led her by the hands to the master bedroom, where she lay sobbing on the bed.

They shut the door.

"Will she be alright?" Eret asked.

"I don't know," Astrid said.

"He was your brother," Eret said. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know that, either."

Hiccup thought back to when he'd watched Willie leave; was Astrid thinking about that moment, too? Was she thinking over the alternatives? Could she have stopped him? Could she have saved him? If she had, her mother wouldn't be crying.

Hiccup felt horrible, too, and he hadn't been related to Willie.

They meandered back downstairs. One of the men in the kitchen had woken up, but remained on the cot. Astrid walked in, prepared to give assistance, but he shook his head.

"I'm alright," he said, hoarse. "Was that your mother crying? What's happened?"

"My brother's dead, sir," Astrid said.

"The war get him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Shame," he said. "Young, strong men are dying and old boots like me are trudging along. Blasted war is taking more than it's given. I'd rather die myself than a young man give up the rest of his life. Was he married?"

"No, sir."

"I suppose that's better. No wife to leave widowed with children to raise. Finding a good man is hard enough without children. This war's going to leave a lot of widows behind. Nah, you kids need to stop worrying about me. Go outside and play. Be children while you can. Laugh until your lungs hurt. You never know when war's going to tear the world apart."

The man closed his eyes. Astrid looked at Eret; neither looked happy about the man's talk. Eret directed Astrid back into the living room.

"I wished that I could have fought," Eret said. "I wanted to be a solider like my father, but…I don't think I would have liked it. All these soldiers coming through…they've got this dead look in their eye, you know?"

Astrid nodded. "I've seen it."

"It's like a part of them has died," Eret said, fidgeting his fingers. "I-I don't want to live like that. It's like a half-life."

Astrid nodded, and looked down at her own hands. She glanced out of the window, eyes not focused on anything, and then she brought her attention back into the house. Her eyes settled on Hiccup, who stood in the doorway to the foyer.

Should he say something?

Hiccup pointed at himself.

Astrid nodded, lips parted. She glanced at Eret, who hadn't noticed, and then back at Hiccup. She paled.

"Eret," she asked, not taking her eyes off Hiccup. "Can I ask you something without you thinking I'm crazy?"

"That's already happened," Eret said.

"I'm serious."

Eret looked up. He noticed Astrid's intense stare, followed it, and looked between Astrid and the hall several times. A deep crease appeared in his brow.

"What are you looking at?"

"You can't see anyone there?"

"Where?"

"In the hall," she said, breathless. She pointed directly at Hiccup. "You can't see him?"

Eret looked at the hall. He looked at each side. He looked everywhere. He looked at Astrid with a newfound worry. He said, "No. I don't see anyone. Maybe you should have a lie-down, too, Astrid. You're suffering from the bad news. Come on, I'll walk you upstairs."

Eret stood and gently pulled Astrid to her feet. She didn't break her eye contact with Hiccup.

"You can't see him at all?" Astrid asked, a bit flustered.

"I'm willing to bet he can't hear me either," Hiccup said, half-joking to himself, but to his surprise, his voice sounded perfectly clear in the sitting room.

"There," Astrid said, pointing adamantly at Hiccup, a panic in her young voice. "He just spoke! How can you not see him? He is right there!"

Eret spun Astrid and gripped both of her arms. He held her firmly in front of him. Astrid kept trying to look at Hiccup, feverish disbelief on her face.

"Astrid, look at me," Eret demanded. "There's no one there. You're seeing things, alright?"

Astrid looked helplessly between Hiccup and Eret.

Hiccup put a finger to his lips, and said, "It's okay, Astrid. I'm not a ghost, I think. I'm not sure what I am. You're not going crazy. Or, we both might be. It's still up in the air."

Astrid looked at him with such confusion, worry, and disbelief; it troubled him to see her so, but what could he do?

"Come on," Eret said, pulling Astrid up the stairs. "Best if your mother doesn't hear you talking like that or she'll have you locked in the attic. That's what happened to my Aunt Maple. She started talking to people that weren't there in some strange language. They locked her in the attic."

Hiccup lingered in the hall for a while. He tapped his foot. This crossing seemed to be lasting longer than the others. He walked to the sitting room window and glanced out at the countryside.

A thought struck him – what if he ended up trapped here? What if he couldn't go home? He had no control over his crossings…what if he couldn't get back to his own time?

Talking with Astrid had caused him to cross back before. Why not this time? Of course, he'd spoke to her and nothing had happened. He chuckled; Eret thought Astrid crazy; Fishlegs thought him crazy. Who's to know, maybe they were both right.

Eret came back down the stairs and fell into one other sitting room chairs. He ran his hands through his dark hair. The man in the kitchen had been right, Hiccup decided, a boy like Eret shouldn't be worrying about war, or death, or anything of the sort. He needed to be playing, imagining, and making a tree fort to throw water balloons from.

Hiccup crossed the room to the hall, walking in front of Eret, who didn't make a motion. He climbed the stairs and headed for Astrid's room.

She hadn't stayed in her room. Instead, she stood in the doorway to her mother's room, where the sobbing had ebbed, but not completely.

Astrid seemed to sense him and turned.

He put a finger to his lips at once, and said, "Your mother doesn't need to worry about you right now, and talking to people that she can't see will worry her."

Astrid slowly closed her mother's door. She whispered, "Why can't anyone else see you?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure you're not a ghost?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"What?" Astrid asked. "How can one be 'pretty' sure? That doesn't make sense."

"I'm almost completely certain that I'm not," Hiccup said again.

"But you're here, no one else can see you, and you always look the same," she argued.

He didn't have anything to combat that with.

"Do you have a name?" Astrid asked.

Hiccup opened his mouth to tell her, but Astrid vanished; he stood alone in the hallway. The door to his bedroom stood open. Astrid's door remained closed. Fishlegs stood on the middle of the stairs, worry creased his brow like someone had dented his forehead.