Behind the mask

He's just trouble

When Ingrid went in to wake Hiccup in the morning, he was coughing hard and his eyes were feverish. His pale cheeks were bruised and flushed with fever. She gently walked in and pulled the curtains open,  flooding the room with sunlight. Hiccup gave a whine that deteriorated into a bout of coughing, curling up and shaking. His bony shoulders heaved and he coughed again, lifting his aching head.

"Hiccup-are you alright?" she asked gently, seeing his emerald eyes glassy with fever. He nodded dumbly, grimacing as he tried to get up.

"'m fine," he rasped, his voice almost gone. He looked exhausted. She calmly walked forward,  leaning forward and resting a hand against his forehead. His skin was scorching and he recoiled from her touch, his eyes widening in shock.

"No-you've got a high fever," she said and stared at him. "Stay there." He shook his head, grimacing.

"I-I can't..." he mumbled, coughing. "I can't because...I don't belong..." She pulled the drapes back, half-covering the windows once more.

"I'll get some aspirin," she told him, peering at the boy. Skinny, bruised and sick, he looked unloved and in need of someone to care for him...someone who clearly wasn't among his parents. He coughed again, his whole body shaking. "Have you got any clothes, Hiccup?" He shook his head dumbly.

"Um...no..." he rasped painfully, tugging the quilt up to his chin. "I left them all to be washed...um...just in my shorts here...: He flushed with embarrassment.

"Give me your address," Ingrid said firmly. "I'll collect some clothes." She paused. "Surely your mother must be concerned about you?"

"Not sure she is," he sighed. "Just...don't go when my step-dad is there. Please..." She nodded.

"I'll bring you something to eat and then you're resting here today," she decided. "I'll fetch you some clothes once Astrid has gone to school. And don't worry-I am sure she can collect your lessons for you to catch up!" He coughed again, grimacing against the pain in his chest.

"Thanks," he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.

Ingrid's eyes were very thoughtful as she walked into the kitchen, looking up to see Astrid's bright blue eyes. "How's Hiccup, Mom?" she asked. Ingrid shook her head.

"He's got a high fever and a horrible cough," she reported. "He needs to stay in bed today-and you need to stay away from him, Astrid. You don't want to get what he's got."

I won't. I haven't been sleeping rough in the freezing cold on no food, Astrid thought silently. But she nodded. Her father looked up from his plate.

"I don't approve of having that boy here, Ingrid," he commented, his eyes cool. "But he obviously can't go when he's sick. Where are his parents?"

"His father's dead and his mother...well, his step-father doesn't want him at home," Astrid explained, chewing her muesli. "He's a friend...and I couldn't leave him to freeze." Martin Hofferson nodded.

"Don't let him distract you," he ordered her, then nodded, grabbing a piece of toast and heading for the door. Astrid got up as well, kissing her parents.

"Tell Hiccup I'll see him later," she said urgently. "I don't want him thinking I've forgotten him."

"He's sleeping," Ingrid told her, kissing her lightly. "Off you go. I'll watch your friend for you." Astrid smiled and then grabbed her coat and left. Ingrid stared after her and recalled: the boy hadn't even had a coat. What would she find when she went to his home?

oOo

What Ingrid Hofferson hadn't expected was a neat house on the far side of town, the drive and house immaculate. She pulled up onto the drive, past the mailbox reading 'Treacher' and stopped by the front door. Calmly, she rang the bell and after a few moments, the door opened-to reveal a slim woman with greying auburn hair in long braids, her emerald green eyes the mirror of her son's. Ingrid could see the same face shape and echoes of Hiccup in her anxious features.