A Walk in My Shoes

A/N: Next chapter, I guess? Just a little friendship-building for Hiccup and Jack. They're both such precious babies, I cannae x3 Dreamworks, freaking make them meet please D: Review, please! Thanks for the read, though! :)

I'm pretty sure it's obvious to Gobber that my mind is somewhere else today. To be honest, I really am trying to focus on work. I'm trying to repair the weapons and forge them, the way Hiccup taught me to, but it's hard. It's not just that he's had years to perfect his skill, so the blacksmith probably expects great work, and all I can give him is pathetic attempts at weapons whose names I barely know; it's also that the work is so boring! How can Hiccup stand this? Of all the jobs on Berk he could possibly have taken to pay off his debt, why did he choose this one?

"Hiccup? Lad, are you listening?" The annoyed voice cuts through my thoughts entirely, but it still takes me a minute to force myself back into the moment. Oh, yeah. Gobber's definitely noticed.

"Sorry. Um, what were you saying?" I shift my feet a little, pretending I'm just tired and that's why I'm spacing out. And that's not even a lie, either: in this body, I get tired so much faster. I can't tell if all humans get exhausted so fast, or just Hiccup, but either way, Gobber works him like a dog.

But the look in his employer's eyes is almost enough to make me regret thinking that. He looks…worried, actually. "Hiccup, are you alright?" There's sincerity in his voice. He actually cares about his apprentice, which is a little hard to swallow, considering how he treats the kid. If he cares about him so much, why does he work him so hard? Better yet, why doesn't he give the kid a bed?

"Yeah. Just tired, is all." Which is, as I said, not really a lie.

"You've been…different for the past couple days now." He's speaking slowly, but I know what he's thinking. I'm not acting like Hiccup. Basically, I'm not acting like myself is what he's saying.

"I'm fine." I wonder if anybody else knows how easy it is to conceal so much truth behind a smile. I want to add something else, explain why I've been acting weird these past few days, but the truth is out of the question, and so I just stand there in silence while he stares at me.

He gets over his concern pretty quickly, though, making me wonder if he really does care about his apprentice or not. Does he just see the boy's possible insanity as a major dent in his progress in his work? The thought makes my cheeks heat with anger.

I find I can't keep my mind from straying to Hiccup every few seconds, running through our last conversation in my head, feeling both defiant and guilty. It was true, everything I'd said. Hiccup really should have waited and thought to check before making it snow all over the southern half of America. But at the same time, I can't ignore the things I said to him, the way I said them. He was in the wrong, but I talked to him like the spring spirits used to talk to me every year, whenever I made it snow in a place that they'd already claimed. I hadn't realized the way I sounded at the time. I sounded accusing and judging. Is it really right for me to judge or accuse anybody, when I hate other people judging or accusing me? Is it really right, when my opinions and words don't matter anyway? Is it really right, when I'm nothing?

The day passes pretty much in uneventful silence, except when Gobber has to ask me where I last left the biggest hammer, or something like that. The only thing of interest happens when I hear the frost crackling outside the forge, even through the howling wind. I shouldn't be able to hear anything over it, but I can, and within seconds, I'm sprinting out the door, yelling over my shoulder to Gobber about fresh air. I pry open the heavy wooden door, stepping out into the snowy dusk. I shiver a little, pulling the vest tighter around me as my breath comes out in a misty puff.

"Jack?" Hiccup looks nowhere near as happy as he did when I last saw him – his eyes are serious and intent, but the circles beneath them are deeper than ever.

I don't know what he plans to say, but I feel like an apology is in order, before he can fly off again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off on you like that. I let my temper get the better of me this morning, and I…I shouldn't have done that."

For an instant, he looks surprised. "No, no, I was coming here to apologize to you…well…" he shuffles his bare feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry about all this. I'm gonna fix it, I promise. I…I have fixed it already." He stifles a slight yawn when he speaks, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"You have?"

"Everything else is unfrozen. There's no more snow, or ice. Or anything. I promise."

A suspicion begins to creep in my mind. "Did you do this on no sleep?"

"Um…" he sways where he stands. "I unfroze Florida on no sleep, but before I did the rest of it, I had an hour or two of rest?"

Okay, forget anything else. I am seriously in awe of this kid. I would be buried under a snowdrift right now, sleeping it off. How is he not doing that? "You wanna sleep in here?" I gesture to the forge's back door. The backroom would actually be the perfect place for him.

"I need to take care of this."

"You're gonna kill yourself," I tell him, but he just rolls his eyes.

An instant later though, a huge yawn is forcing its way through his lips and even he can't deny that. "Alright, I'll sleep after I've banished all the snow from here."

"Wait, wait a second," I hold up a hand. "When you say banish all the snow…"

"I did it," he replies with a nod. "I just did what I did last night, too, just asked the wind to keep taking me to the places where there was snow this time, and—

"Even the northern states? The ones that already had snow before you gave them any?" I quickly clarify, remembering his confusion whenever I mention "states".

"I removed all the snow I created last night." He fidgets with the edge of his sleeve as he talks. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"Um…" I really don't want to burst this kid's bubble. It's clear that he's tired, and probably completely spent. It's not surprising, after all the work he's just done. So I nod, because he needs, more than anything, to rest. I'll break it to him tomorrow, once he's feeling better, and he's got some of his old strength back.

"Good." He relaxes visibly. "I'm gonna deal with this, and then I'll be out of your hair. I promise."

I frown at his choice in words. Does he think he's in my hair? Because he's not. Really.

"Hiccup—

But he's already taking off, up into the sky, and I see him landing a few feet away, in the very center of the village, where he begins slamming the butt of my staff against the ground, more snow and ice disappearing with every sound. The temperature heats up faster than a microwave, and my shivers gradually decrease, until I can actually stand up without leaning against the doorframe for support. I think about telling him that removing all the snow and ice isn't necessary. Berk is a naturally cold place, being in the north, so a few inches of white powder won't be amiss here.

He's stumbling. I can see that from here. He can barely stay on his feet, so he lets the wind take him up, but his flight is erratic, and he can't even stay in the air for long periods of time.

"Hiccup!" I run out into the open street.

It effectively gets his attention, and he lands on the ground, looking very windswept, and his hair is a mess. I wonder if I look this bad when I use tons of power, but immediately dismiss the thought. You learn not to be vain after three hundred years of people not being able to see you.

"C'mon," I take him by the hand, shuddering at the ice cold skin. No wonder no one ever wanted to touch me. "I'm bringing you inside." Because even though I trust the wind to carry him to his destination, I don't trust that he has the strength right now to fly anywhere.

"I'm fine." But almost before we're completely in the forge, his eyes are closed. When I tell him to make himself comfortable on the floor, he doesn't even try to protest. Without my supporting arm against his chest, he would have slumped completely over onto the floor by now, but I manage to somehow maneuver him into a safer position before letting him lay down. He's out like a light before I even leave the room.

I can't resist a small chuckle at the sight. "Good night, sleepyhead," I whisper teasingly before slipping back into the main part of the forge where Gobber's waiting, eyes wide.

"Did you…are you…?"

"What?"

"That…the snow! It just stopped! All…all of a sudden!"

"Oh. That. Right." I guess I don't sound properly impressed, because Gobber's brows draw down again, so I go for a better tone. "I mean…I know, right?" I bend over the pile of weapons that need fixing, trying to resume work.

Hiccup's presence in the room makes it hard to sleep that night. For one thing, even though I lay on the opposite end of the room, to give him his space, he still manages to make me shiver, even from over here. It really is impressive, but also annoying. I wonder if I actually possess that kind of power, or if it's just Hiccup's complete lack of control over his own abilities. Eventually though, my exhausted brain finally shuts down, allowing me to drift into a dreamless sleep, but it doesn't last long. A couple hours later, in the middle of the night, I'm awoken by a sound, but I can't place what it is. It's just…it's out-of-place. Hiccup has scooted closer to me in the night, and the staff has rolled out of his grip. I reach over and pick it up, but my hands are too small to fit fully around it now, and it doesn't feel…right in my hands. The wood feels rough and hard, and I try to fight back irrational hurt when no frost appears. Even though I would have given it all up to be seen, to know who I am, there were some perks to being the spirit of winter. I had no one to tell me what to do. I had no rules, no responsibility. And I mean, I could make ice and snow come shooting out of a seemingly ordinary staff. That part was pretty awesome, you have to admit. I let my grip on the staff slacken, and it's a tough thing to swallow, but I have to do. So I do. I gently breathe out when the staff leaves my grip. "It's not mine anymore." My voice comes out a whisper. "Hiccup's." It's only right. Until I can get back in my own body, it's not mine.

There's a second of silence before Hiccup's confused voice, slurred from sleep, floats over to me. "Jack? Were you talking to me?"

"No."

"I thought I heard you…say my name."

"Go back to sleep, Hiccup." I try to laugh it off, even though there is not a thing to laugh about.

"Jack?" His voice grows slower and slower the closer he drifts back toward sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

I don't even try to mask my surprise. Thanking me? For what? What have I done for him that could have possibly earned a thank-you? "For what?" I work to keep my voice even.

"Being here." I can practically hear his eyelids fluttering, and I imagine he won't be awake much longer. All the more reason for me to learn everything I can now, because I think this unexpectedly vulnerable mood won't last long.

"Being…here?" I repeat.

"I screwed up. I screwed up…I didn't bring winter where I should have…and I'm boring…I'm weird…I didn't bring the winter like you asked…and you're…still here."

I know I should say something, but I'm too surprised. Boring? There are plenty of adjectives to describe the kid in front of me, but boring is definitely not one of them. And…screwed up? Why would I leave him just because he's screwing up? I want to say the right thing. But I don't even know what the right thing is until it hits me: he is saying exactly what I think. I screw up all the time. It's written all over my face. I'm sure it's clear in my features. And the kid shouldn't even want to be around me. Why would he? I really don't…at least, I thought I didn't add much. But what he's saying? It's everything I've ever wanted to feel. Like there's someone, out there, who doesn't care that I screw up all the time, or that I don't serve any purpose, that I'm useless, that I should be dead, because things would be better if I didn't exist. I draw in a breath. Am I that person to Hiccup?

But Hiccup's not like that at all. He serves a purpose. I don't know what it is yet, granted, except being sarcastic and rejecting my attempts at snowball fights, but he serves a purpose. He has a use here, in this world. He doesn't screw up anything. He's a good kid. He really is.

"That wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it was mine. Really, it was. That whole winter fiasco? Totally my fault. I mean, the point is, you didn't mess up. You probably brought joy to a ton of kids, because you gave them snow."

"They weren't supposed to have snow," he blows out a frustrated breath.

"Ah, who cares?"

"I do." His voice is quiet.

I try for a grin. "C'mon. So you made a mistake. So what? It's over. You dealt with it. You cleaned it up. You fixed it. It's nothing now, right?"

He was silent for so long that I thought he'd fallen back asleep.

"Right." He sounded so uncertain, but I smiled, anyway.