Hey, guys! So, this is sort of kind of a piggyback off "Night Terrors" and "Broken", requested by waistcoat35. Only this time, it's the aftermath against the Red Death, so this is centered around father and son bonding. :) I hope you guys like it.

Stoick couldn't sleep.

Nearly a week since his son had woken up after the battle against the Red Death, and Stoick still couldn't sleep.

But quite honestly, who could blame him?

Stoick never understood Hiccup, since the time the boy could crawl. He had always been...different. A somewhat of a square peg in a round hole to be certain. Stoick tried. He tried with all his might to teach his son how to be a Viking: how to wield a sword and use it well, how to defend himself in battle, how to defend others who couldn't fight, how to defend his family (assuming he had one when he became an adult, which Stoick assumed very well, as Hiccup was the heir of Berk, and thereby they needed one of Hiccup's bloodline to be the next Chief), and, most importantly, how to kill dragons.

But despite everything Stoick went through as he tried to train his son, Hiccup always went the opposite direction. Stoick tried to teach him how to unsheathe his sword, and Hiccup drew a picture instead. Stoick tried to teach Hiccup how to fight dragons, and the boy built with sticks and rocks and just about anything else he could find instead.

Stoick tried to connect with his son, but it was hard. He didn't think Hiccup would ever turn out to be a proper Viking.

And then the boy ran off, befriended a Night Fury, fought the Queen of the dragon's nest, and saved all the Berkians. Of course, it came with a price: the boy lost his leg in the battle and was in a coma for a week afterwards.

Stoick would never get those images out of his mind: finding Hiccup wrapped in the dark as night wings of the powerful Night Fury, the boy sagging limply in his arms when Stoick raced forward to cradle him, hearing that they couldn't save whatever was left of his son's leg, hearing that they would have to amputate from the calf and down, listening to Hiccup's screams of agony when the operation took place…

And that wasn't even the worst part, believe it or not. It was hard enough holding Hiccup down as he thrashed and screamed bloody murder, but the fevers that constantly plagued him afterwards were almost as bad as the amputation itself. Every time Hiccup got another fever, there was a chance that the illness would take his life. Sometimes a slim chance, and sometimes a strong chance, but the fact that there was a chance at all was terrifying in it of itself.

It was hard enough keeping him hydrated without the constant fevers. The Night Fury (Toothless, according to Astrid) never left the boy's side once as he remained still, fever-plagued, and comatose in his bed.

And to think, it could have all been avoided if Stoick just listened to his son. Hiccup tried to tell him; he tried to tell him of the danger that awaited them at the dragon's nest, but all Stoick did was tune him out, disowning him in the process.

Yet in the end, it was Hiccup who suffered. It was Hiccup who came back to save an island full of people who treated him as though he were more worthless than dirt. It was Hiccup who saved their skins when they teased him and laughed at him and mocked him.

Oh, Stoick regretted disowning his son more than anything in the world. He apologized for it, he knew, but at the same time, it didn't help. He still said those terrible words: You're not my son, and as he said it, he couldn't believe himself.

But he couldn't take the words he had spoken back once they were out there. There was no going back. He apologized, but he still hated himself for even saying what he had said at all. So what if Hiccup trained a dragon. Valka always tried to find a way of peace. Stoick didn't disown her as a wife.

Yet he disowned Hiccup as a son.

Maybe he was thinking about it too much. Maybe he should try closing his eyes and actually getting some sleep. Maybe he should try forgetting about his present problems and focus only on getting the rest he knew he needed.

He was Chief of the Berkians, after all. He couldn't be exhausted the next morning and unable to help people who needed assistance. He needed to take a break, shut his mind down, and slee-

There was a small cry from upstairs, and Stoick was wide awake once again. He sat up instantly, listening for any other moans or cries.

Since waking up, Hiccup's bed had been moved back to his loft, where he was most comfortable. Of course, Stoick didn't want to be any farther away from his son than possible, but at the same time, he knew that Hiccup was getting older now: he wanted his space, just like everyone did.

But...on the other hand…

Stoick then heard it again: another moan, high in pitch and sounding as though it belonged to someone who was in severe pain. Without another moment to think about what he was doing, Stoick tossed his furs back, and raced up the stairs with a purpose.

The first thing he saw when he made it upstairs was Toothless, and Toothless was nudging Hiccup frantically. Hiccup, who was curled into himself in a fetal position, the blanket clenched in his tight fists and brought up around his shoulders. Toothless nudged him again, obviously wondering what in the world was wrong with his little rider, and all Hiccup did in response was moan.

"No...no, D-Dad, don't…"

It was Hiccup's voice that finally brought Stoick back out of his thoughts, and he raced forward instantly, his mind spinning. The warning sirens were going off in his head. Every father instinct he had was yelling at him, screaming at him, telling him to do something.

Do something! Do something! Do something! Be there for your son, for once in your life!

Problem was, Stoick didn't even know what was wrong. He didn't know what Hiccup was moaning about. He didn't know if it was a nightmare, or it Hiccup's leg was hurting him. Gobber's amputated limbs (or, what was left of them) hurt constantly when he first lost them, and Gobber was much older than Hiccup when he suffered the loss of his hand and the loss of his leg.

Hiccup was just a young boy, not even sixteen yet. The pain could have been far, far worse for him.

"No, Dad...please don't," Hiccup moaned in his sleep again, rolling over on his back. "P-please don't...don't go...it's...not safe…"

Oh, great.

Now Stoick had an idea of what was haunting Hiccup. Memories. Flashbacks, if you would. Little blasts of the not-so-distant past. Little moments.

Moments Stoick wished had never happened. Moments Stoick wished he could simply erase from the world forever. Moments that would forever haunt Stoick just as much as they haunted Hiccup.

If not more so.

Stoick, cautiously, sat on the edge of the bed, laying his hand across Hiccup's forehead. Toothless growled warningly, the message clear: If you hurt him, I will hurt you.

Toothless didn't have anything to worry about. Stoick would never hurt Hiccup.

Never again.

Hiccup's skin felt warmer than what was healthy, but Stoick supposed it was to be expected. Stoick couldn't think of much else: the only thing he was focused on was helping Hiccup's present pain, no matter what it took.

Stoick smoothed his hand over Hiccup's forehead absently, and then moved his hand to grip his son's shoulder. "Hiccup," he said, trying to be quiet while at the same time trying to wake his boy. He jostled Hiccup, and all his son did was toss his head weakly.

"No, please…" he begged hoarsely. "Please...please stop...please don't...don't hurt him...don't hurt T-Toothless…"

Toothless stepped forward and nuzzled Hiccup's side, but this only seemed to make the boy more distressed. "Please…" he moaned. "Please."

"Toothless is right here," Stoick assured, moving his hand back to Hiccup's forehead. Yep, he definitely had a fever. The edges of his bangs were damp with sweat...or were those tears, because the boy was crying? Hiccup was crying; salty tears raced from his eyes, down his face, and soaked into the pillow beneath his head.

Hiccup wasn't reassured, and he still didn't wake up. "No...g-gone…" he choked. "Too...too late...t-tried to...to warn...you...m'sorry...not a good...not a good son…"

Oh, that hurt. That hurt way more than Stoick would ever wish to admit. Hiccup was still technically asleep; he wouldn't remember any of this when he woke up, but Stoick still heard it, and he was still hurt by it. It felt as though someone had sliced a knife straight through his heart.

His son was in pain.

His son was suffering.

The battle against the dragons was over, but a new one was just beginning, and the problem was, this battle couldn't be won with swords and shields.

This battle had to be won by Stoick doing what he was always meant to do: be a father to his only son. His only son, who still needed him. His only son, whom he had always looked down upon. His only son, who was now tossing and turning while murmuring feverishly.

Stoick didn't even know what to do anymore. He shook Hiccup's shoulder a little harder this time. "Hiccup, it's alright," he said. "It's alright." Nothing. The words fell onto deaf ears. Hiccup tossed his head again. "Hiccup," Stoick said, trying to keep his voice from rising although it rose anyway. He wasn't angry. Not at all. No, he was concerned, and when he was concerned, his voice grew sharp and demanding without him even knowing it.

"Hiccup, wake up," Stoick tried. "Hiccup!"

Hiccup groaned.

"I mean it, son," Stoick said. "You have to wake up now. It's a dream." A nightmare, another part of himself said bitterly. A nightmare that I caused. A nightmare that must be memories. Memories of my actions. My terrible, terrible actions…

"It's not real," Stoick said. Well, it's not real anymore. It was real, at one point. That's why it's called a "memory." "It's not real, son. Wake up, it's a nightmare. It's just a nightmare."

"No...please...don't…" Hiccup coughed again. This time, though, he started shouting. "TOOTHLESS!" he screeched. "TOOTHLESS!"

The Night Fury bounded forward, but when he sniffed Hiccup, Hiccup only thrashed harder. It was then that Stoick decided he had to somehow restrain his son, before he hurt himself. So, carefully yet forcefully, he put his arms around the suffering boy; one arm under his shoulders, and the other arm sliding beneath his back. Stoick pulled him to rest against his chest, and when Hiccup thrashed, all Stoick did was hold him tighter.

"It's alright," Stoick whispered, his arms tightening around Hiccup, keeping his son pressed against his chest. Hiccup tried pulling away, but that was pointless. One hundred percent pointless. "It's alright, son...it's alright…"

Hiccup remained tense, his body rigid, and Stoick maintained the same position, never moving, constantly focused on keeping his scared son pressed against his body, but then, after what felt like forever, Hiccup finally relaxed, going almost limp in his father's hold.

And that's when the tears started. That's when Hiccup finally woke from his nightmare, gasping as though he hadn't breathed for a long, long time. When he was fully awake, still gasping, he buried his face in his father's chest, his tears soaking Stoick's tunic, his back heaving with sobs.

When Stoick felt it safe to move, he began rocking both himself and his son back and forth, rubbing Hiccup's shaking back with one hand while smoothing his hair down with the other. This was something he had failed to do for fifteen long years. He had failed to be there for his son. He had failed to be a father.

Never again would Stoick make that mistake.

Stoick had no idea what he was doing, but it came...naturally. Comforting his only child, telling him over and over again that it was alright as Hiccup continued to cry what felt like rivers…

This was being a father, and it came naturally now that Stoick was actually acting on his instincts. This was more important than being Chief; being strong; being a Viking. Stoick made a promise: from here on out, Hiccup would come first in his life. Hiccup would always come first, no matter what.

"Shh, it's alright," Stoick whispered. "It's alright...it's okay, let it out, son...let it out…"

"I'm sorry," Hiccup choked between his sobs. "I'm so sorry..."

"No," Stoick said sternly but not harshly. "Don't apologize. You shouldn't apologize. You did nothing wrong, son." Stoick was overusing the word "son", perhaps, but then again, how could he overuse it? He had disowned his son once: now, he was trying to get the point across that he was really, really, truly, honestly sorry.

"I know I hurt you, Hiccup," Stoick whispered. "I know I did. And...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Hiccup." He lowered his head, setting his nose against the top of Hiccup's head.

"Wh...what d-do...do you m-mean?" Hiccup gasped.

"When I disowned you," Stoick said. "When I told you you weren't my son. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

Hiccup relaxed again. "I...I know…" he said, his voice cracked and hoarse, still filled with tears. "I...I forgave you. I...I t-thought…I thought we were...past that..."

Oh no, not at all. Hiccup may have forgiven his father, but Stoick sure as heck didn't forgive himself yet. He didn't think he would ever truly forgive himself for what he did.

How could he?

"I'm sorry," Stoick whispered. "I know you forgave me, son, but I'm still so, so sorry. I should have listened to you. I neglected you for so long...too long. Even neglecting you for a day is too long, but I did it for years. Long years, Hiccup, and I'm sorry. If I could, I would go back and change every thing I did that hurt you. I would take back those words I said. I would...change the past."

Stoick knew that there was no changing the past, no matter how hard he tried.

Well...that didn't mean he couldn't change the future.

"I'll be there for you, Hiccup," Stoick promised. He didn't know whether or not Hiccup was listening, because the lad was still crying, but Stoick was pretty sure Hiccup was paying enough attention. "I'll be there for you when you need me, and I'll listen to you when you try to talk to me. I'll do my very best to be the father you deserve."

Hiccup sniffed. "Dad, I'm-"

Stoick knew that now, his son was probably feeling guilty for no reason. But Stoick had been expecting that. He knew Hiccup would do that, and he was ready to stop his son from doing that as well.

"No," Stoick said, cutting Hiccup off instantly. "I'm sorry. If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I'm sorry, Hiccup." He didn't know what else to say. He actually felt tears sting his eyes. "What were you dreaming about?"

Hiccup buried his face against Stoick's chest again, his tears continuing. "It...it was...you...you k-killed Toothless," he cried. "Y-you k-killed him...and then you...went after the dragon's nest anyways...and...and y-you all...were k-killed…"

That hurt. That hurt a lot. Hiccup's sobbing picked up dramatically, and Stoick went right back to comforting him, rubbing his heaving back gently. "I'm sorry, Hiccup," Stoick said; he was just repeating himself now, but he didn't care, and he didn't think Hiccup did, either. "I'm so sorry I put you through everything. It will never happen again." That was a promise. "I love you, son," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"I l-love you too, Dad," Hiccup whispered back. His tears began afresh, but Stoick didn't mind it. If Hiccup needed a shoulder to cry on, Stoick would never push him away.

"Oh, son," Stoick whispered, and that only seemed to make Hiccup cry harder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, Hiccup. I'm so sorry…"

It didn't take long for Hiccup to quiet after that, and when Stoick looked down, he realized that Hiccup was sleeping, his head nestled against Stoick's chest. Stoick sighed. Poor lad was probably exhausted. The Berkian Chief didn't blame his child for falling asleep so suddenly like he did.

Instead of moving, Stoick simply reached over to the side and pulled the blanket over his son's shoulders. He felt Hiccup's forehead again: warm, but he was cooling down now that he was resting. He must have just worked himself up to the point where he was sick. His fever was going down now, and that relieved some of the tension in Stoick's shoulders, although he still thought he should take his son to Gothi the next morning, just in case he really was coming down with something.

He didn't move. He simply stayed there, his son in his arms. "I promise you, Hiccup," he said, even though he knew Hiccup was sleeping and didn't hear anything he was saying, "I won't let anything like this happen again. I'll keep you safe. I'll protect you. I promise."

It was a promise Stoick intended to keep.

Even if it killed him.

Author's Notes:

Yeah, I'm evil. Poor Hiccup, and poor Stoick, too. I feel so sorry for these guys as much as it is, and THEN I have to go off and write a one-shot to make everything even worse.

Well...so anyways, this was requested by waistcoat35, but I'd been planning on writing this piece for a while now. The request added logs to the fire, so to speak, so yeah, here it is. :) I hope you all liked it.

And I'm thinking, since I've written so many one-shots, maybe I'll delete all the one-shots I've posted, and then re-post them as a single story. Like a "one-shot" series, where every one-shot is a different chapter, and the story will be updated at random...I don't know. What do you think?

The episode what-ifs will remain separate stories, of course. The one-shot series would just be like, my headcanons, or whatever, like "Mafia", "Night Terrors", "Axes and Birthdays", etc., etc., you guys get the picture.

To conclude, let me know what you think, and I'll go from there. :) Until next time, this is BeyondTheClouds777, signing out!

Until next story!

-BeyondTheClouds777