Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the elaborate parts, and the re-imagining of the plot.

How to train your dragon is Copyright to Dream-works and Cressida Cowell.

Gone

There are very few times Astrid has ever wished she'd said goodbye.

This was not one of them.

Because, sometimes, goodbyes are just that: goodbye. The end of the day, the end of the conversation you were having, the end of a friendship, a life, just... the end.
Forever.
And you'll never get that back.
You'll never be able to relive that one moment, no matter how rich or strong you are, and all you can do is remember it.

The last time she had said goodbye, her father had never come back.

She had started hating false words and promises, and the sheer idea of goodbyes after that.

Never had she felt so powerless before, always returning to but never quite getting there, in the moment, only to think maybe if I, or what would have happened here if? So, when she has to leave, she never says that word. It's always an unseen exit, or an 'mmm' or, even a 'yeah' if you were lucky. But never a good bye.

And, personally, no matter how irritating a person (Snoutlout) was, how brash or loud they could be (the twins), being generally too smart for their own good (Fishlegs), or even how downright weird they were (Hiccup), she really didn't want to wish death upon them.

So, silently walking away is one of her best skills, as a result of this aversion. If anyone wonders why she doesn't say goodbye they don't ask. And that's good enough for now.

At least, it was good enough.

Until one crazy guy with a crooked grin and a dragon had suddenly decided that now, of all times, to behave like the truly crazy Vikings they all made out to be. And decide to rescue her at the same time.

She won't live that one down in a while, but somehow; she finds she doesn't want to.

So after being thrown off her dragon (through no fault of her own she might add), smiled at by a Nightfury (a surreal experience in itself), dangled upside down until dizzy, before being gently placed on the ground. The sheer momentum making her run forwards as they let go, and the sudden thing in her chest seemingly escaped from the iron cage that was her emotions, that clawed and kicked to be free whilst screeching and howling and moaning for her not to be left behind again and to catch up, forcing her to run onwards; evenas for a moment time stops.

It's a surreal experience to run under a dragon, more so if it's only for a split-second.

In that half-a-moment, time slows to the point of grass growing, explosions from impacts and fire all around them, but she can only hear her own breathing as the iridescent flames rise above their heads. She looks up at the expanse of black just above her, scales reflecting sparks of red and yellow as wings come down on either side. Just once. Only ever once.

And for a second she thinks of going with him, to climb on just behind and hold on as he does the most stupid and heroic thing she's ever seen. To be there, to protect him, so it might just be alright. In the split second where she starts to reach out for that saddle, he's whipped away and she only just noticed that in-spite of whatever happens afterwards she can't just leave it hanging.

And the thing with claws is now in her throat, begging to be released as her eyes start to sting, (from the smoke of course, because Vikings don't cry). And the first syllable forces its way out as he accelerates further and further out of reach of sight and sound.

"Go-."

But it stops. Just in time as he swoops over the queen dragon, firing fireball after fireball, the purple lighting up the sky.

Because she's only now realised, only now, when it actually means something, has she actually thought about it. She wants to get to know him better, to know his favourites things when asked, to know why, instead of the dead silence when any of them asked about him. There is so much to do, and it's so very ironic that she's only now connected the dots when she has no time. And the thing is tearing her up inside now because she doesn't want to say it, and it may be her last chance. But she holds it in.

He's already gone anyway, but somehow...

She doesn't want to say 'Goodbye' to him yet.

Hey guys. This is a thank you one shot in response to the MASSIVE response I got for: 'Looking, but not seeing'. I was over whelmed when I finally remembered to check my email address for , which is why I have been posting nothing by the way, because I was a coward, i.e: 'don't look yet! No one will have noticed it in the past month it's been up.' Yeah. Riiiiight. So anyway...

Thank you.
Thank you for taking the time to read it, reviewing it, and for the all the faves, alerts, and god knows what else.
It's greatly appreciated.

Saint, over and out.