Part 19: Lunch and a Lesson

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I was released from the infirmary the next day and given three days off work until Gothi was sure I was fit for duty. I was just grateful I'd completed my Finals before all this nonsense. I made my way to see Stormfly and the Nadder was delighted to see me. I fed her some fish and spent about twenty minutes just fussing and petting her, then I gave her a little pat and headed back for my room. I needed a change of clothes and a decent shower.

Once I had tidied myself up and felt more normal, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and an old pair of trainers and went in search of my trainer. Stormfly's wing was healed now and I needed to make up time. After a long and fruitless search, I went to Hiccup's room as last resort and knocked. There was a pause and I heard him shout: "Who's there?"

"Astrid." I leaned against the door frame and waited as I heard the sound of a foot and a prosthetic hitting the floor, mild cursing and then the door opening.

"Er...what are you doing here?" he asked. He looked scruffy, disheveled and in need of a shave. I stared at him.

"Can I come in?" He looked alarmed.

"Er...do you have to?" I glared at him and reluctantly, he stood aside and waved me in. He closed the door and remained standing by it, sagging like an ashamed schoolboy. I stared at his room and my mouth dropped open.

The place was an utter shambles. His bed was shoved against the wall and rumpled: his wardrobe was behind the door and his chest of drawers and desk were against the far wall. The drawers of his desk were thrown onto the floor and clothes and papers were everywhere. There were pictures and diagrams pinned to the wall and two laptops were laid side by side on the desk but computer parts and cables were randomly tossed everywhere. Books were scattered. The room was completely wrecked. I turned to look at him.

"After Ozzie told me basically to go fuck myself I lost it," he admitted in a shamed voice.

"But since, haven't you...?" I asked softly. He sighed.

"Debriefing, dragon ride, jail, infirmary...not been here much," he said awkwardly. I rolled my eyes and huffed, then pointed to the chair by the desk.

"SIT!" I snapped. He wearily obeyed as I grabbed the spilled drawers and restored them to their place, then scooped up the strewn clothes and began to fold and stow them. He watched me, his cheeks scorching with shame and just inspected his lap. It took me about five minutes to stow everything, then gather the papers and slam them in a pile on one of the laptops. "I assume you can sort these out," I asked him and he nodded. I looked around, then saw a photograph, under the desk. I swooped down and fished it up, peering at a picture of the little boy with the bright emerald eyes in the embrace of a woman with the same auburn hair and green eyes, her face alive with love and happiness. It was Hiccup with his dead mother. I handed him the image.

"I don't think you want to lose this," I said more gently and he picked it up and blinked.

"No," he said, stroking the image gently with his thumb. I walked to his side and looked over his shoulder.

"You look a lot like her," I commented. He shrugged.

"I remember bits but I was just three when she died," he admitted. "She was soft and warm and kind. She never shouted and always hugged me when I was unhappy." he seemed on the verge of saying something more but stopped himself. I gently rested a hand on his shoulder and he leaned his head against my arm. "Thanks," he said quietly. I nuzzled the top of his head.

"You're welcome," I told him softly. Then I leaned close to him. "You need a clean shirt and a shave and then you are coming with me." He looked up at me, his wide green eyes surprised and trusting and then he levered himself up and made his way towards the small en suite.

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