Hello loyal readers!

So sorry this took so long to upload. For some reason I had a REALLY hard time writing this chapter. I just couldn't seem to find the right words and everything that I had written just wasn't making me happy. But, atlas, here we are...

Thank you all so much for your patience!

Chapter 8

I stay silent, waiting for him to continue. My dad sighs, running a tired hand down his face. "And he came to me with a deal this morning. He would allow for our product to be sold on the island and even create a bond with our two companies if-" His eyes travel back towards me, and he cups my face gently. "If I don't press charges against Dagur, and basically...forget everything that happened to you."

My stomach jumps into my throat, making it difficult to breathe. I clench my fingers into fists, adverting my gaze from my father's. I didn't speak for the next few seconds, my tongue as heavy as lead in my mouth.

A bubbling anger is the first emotion I feel. Forget everything? Seriously? I'll remember those too-hot hands roaming my body without permission for the next decade- and the feeling of helplessness and pure terror for the rest of my lifetime. Oswald seriously thinks he can just write a check, shake a few hands, and have all of this pushed under the rug? No, defiantly not. My father would never allow it.

But...it does seem like the perfect deal, doesn't it? Guilt quickly rushes in to put out the flames of fury inside me, and I begin to squirm under my father's intense gaze. The solution to my father's problem was now presented to him in a nice little package- bow and everything- and all he has to do is accept; to look the other way. Was I really going to be so selfish to demand justice for myself, ruining any chance my father could have at being successful?

No, I couldn't do it. Not too him. After all he's done for me these past few weeks- nursing me back to health, mentally and physically, and constantly being my crutch to fall back on whenever I lose my balance; countless sleepless nights when I would wake up screaming from nightmares, to have him comfort me until I fall into a deep sleep, no matter how long it took; making sure my stump was clean and I had taken my medication and I was eating properly...I could do this one thing for him. He had done so much for me, and it was time I returned the favor.

I let out a sigh. "Okay." I say, returning my gaze towards his. My father's eyebrows rise high above his forehead in surprise, and his opens slightly in shock.

"What do you mean 'okay'?" He says, disbelief laced in his voice.

I shrug. I thought I had made myself pretty clear. "I mean, okay, I think you should take the deal."

There's a few more moments of silence, in which my father still stares at me with that shocked and confused look, his eyes wide and his mouth open, as if he's searching for the right words but there aren't any.

Suddenly, his demeanor takes a turn.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He snaps, quickly rising and turning away from me. "You have a concussion and you're still delirious. We'll talk about this later when you're-"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much." I say, not even bothering to hide my annoyance. "Why are you getting so upset?"

"I'm not upset." His back is turned to me, but I can see his fists clenched at his sides. If I was smart, I would've dropped the subject, allowing his anger to dissolve as quickly as it appeared.

But, I don't make the best decisions sometimes.

"What, did I say the wrong thing?" I ask. "I thought a deal with Oswald was what you wanted. Is that not why we're here?"

"This is definitely not something I wanted!" My father snaps. "I wanted this deal, yes, but not under these circumstances." He turns back towards me. Beneath his eyes, I can see a storm brewing, but I still keep pushing. I just don't know when to stop when it comes to him.

"Does it really matter?" I say. "Just take the deal, Dad. What happened last night...it was nothing." Lie. It was not nothing. It was the most terrifying experience of my life.

"How can you even say that?!" My father raises his voice, and every warning bell goes off in my head, but I ignore them. "Last night- I had never seen you like that. You were a hysteric, sobbing mess, Hiccup. Whatever Dagur did to you was not 'nothing'. You were terrified. And I'm not blaming you for that, but this just can't be overlooked. I can't step aside and let him-"

"This is bigger than just me, Dad." I interrupt. "This deal effects more than just me; it effects you and everyone in the company and all of your customers."

My father shakes his head at me, his lips pressed together and his eyes cold. That look on his face was all too familiar, and I should've known that he was going to blow soon and I should probably back off, but oddly enough, I'm not afraid. Where had this confidence come from? Maybe I was still delirious.

"As a father, I cannot- will not- allow that boy to get away with what he did to you; what he was trying to do to you!"

"But, as the CEO you can't just let this deal slip through your fingers! Not when-"

"You're just a child, Hiccup! You couldn't possibly understand the position I'm in, and why I cannot take this deal!" His fury was beginning to roll off of him in waves. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

But a red hot anger began to boil in pit of my stomach. I was not just a child. I had been through hell and back these past few years, and emotionally I felt as if I was already middle aged! "Why do you still keep treating me like a helpless baby? I'm fourteen, Dad! I'm not a little kid anymore!"

"Yes, you are!" He hisses at me through clenched teeth. "You just don't understand. And it doesn't matter either way- this isn't you're decision to make; it's mine. And I am not taking this deal."

I throw my hands up in anger. "So did you just bring it up because you thought I would say no, and that way you wouldn't have to look like the bad guy to your company? Blame it on your weak and pathetic son, huh?"

"No." My father snaps. "And this conversation is over!"

"You're an idiot if you don't take this deal, and you know it! You can't allow your personal life to interfere with your professional one!" The words leave my mouth before I realize just what I've said, but it's too late- the damage has been done. My father's lip curls and the storm in his eyes is roaring behind his pupils. His entire face hardens, and I find myself shrinking away from him. The first bit of fear races through me, and for a split second, I thought my father was actually going to hit me.

"Hiccup Haddock, you better watch your mouth." His voice is cold, and I can't even hide the scared expression on my face. My father could be terrifying when he wanted to be, and this was defiantly one of those times. In his defense, I was the one who pushed him to this point.

"You know I'm right." I spit out. "And besides, if all of this had happened before the accident, you wouldn't have any trouble taking this deal. You would've said yes in a heartbeat and you know it!"

I regretted the words the second they came out of my mouth. I wasn't usually such a hothead, but my father had ways of getting under my skin. I placed a hand over my lips in disblief, still in shock that I had said that to my father.

We both fell silent, and the look on my father's face made all of my anger dissolve from my system. He wasn't angry anymore either, but I could tell my words had hurt him. His mouth went slack, his fists unraveled, and although the storm had calmed behind his eyes, I could see the pain and guilt behind them. Oh Gods, I had really messed up, hadn't I?

"Dad-" I say weakly. I had to fix things; I had to! Gods, why did I have to mess everything up? Why do all I ever do was cause my father endless pain? I reach out towards him, loss for words. I had to apologize immediately, but the words were stuck in my throat.

My father sighs, frustrated and exhausted. He rubs the bridge of his nose, staring down at the carpet. Before I could force the words off of my tongue, he begins to reach for the door handle. He was going to leave.

No, no, nonononononononononononononononono! This couldn't be happening! We can't leave it like this! I can't have him think I hate him or still blame him for what happened!

DAD, NO! I wanted to scream, but my voice isn't working and my vision begins to become hazy as tears prickle at my eyes. I had to stop him, I had to make things right!

"Wait, Dad!" I call out, standing up and rushing over to him. But, I had forgotten that I wasn't wearing my leg in the midst of all of the panic and anger and hurt, and with a strangled cry the ground quickly rushes up to meet me. My knees slam against the carpet, my stump incredibly sensitive from the impact, and I let another cry as pain races upwards from my leg. My chin hits the hard floor, reviving my headache to its fullest. My vision begins to swim, my body shaking. The first of many tears begin to stream down my cheeks, but I can't just lay here and cry- I have to get to my dad; I have to make things right!

But I can't stand up in time, and when I look up from beneath my bangs, I see a sliver of the back of my father's wild auburn hair, and then the door shuts with a click! My heart painfully sinks even lower into my stomach at the sound.

NO! How had I managed to ruin things so quickly? I had to make things right- I had to go after him. He needs to know that I didn't mean anything I had said. Gods, why was I such an idiot? Why can't I just keep my mouth shut? I could feel tears beginning to leak out my eyes, but I wiped them away quickly. Now was not the time cry. I didn't have any right to cry- I was the monster, not the victim.

The pain in my stump begins to throb, streams of hot agony racing up my leg every other second. I had hit it pretty rough on the floor when I fell, and the nerves was still incredibly sensitive. My arms began to shake trying to hold myself up. I reach upwards towards the edge of the other bed, but I wasn't strong enough to lift myself up. I had absolutely no energy and no upper body strength- I was completely helpless. I felt shame burn even brighter on my face. Who was I to say those things about my father when I couldn't even pull myself up off of the ground without his help?

My headache is back, and the constant thumping in my temples was making it difficult to think. I knew I had to get to my father, even if I had to crawl to him. But, I could barely lift myself off of the floor. How was I suppose to find him?

"No." I choked out, tears of frustration falling faster from my eyes and down my chin. I angrily wiped them away, only for more to take their place. Gods, I was helpless as a child. And here I was, thinking I was Mr. Independent, pushing my father away and insisting I could do everything on my own. I mean, I had before the accident. It was just myself before. And then everything happened, and I told myself not to get to attached to Dad, I specifically told myself not to become dependent on him just in case it all fell apart.

But what did I do? I got too comfortable. I got too cocky. I became delusional enough to think I could talk back. And now I had ruined everything. Surely Dad would stop caring after this. Surely, after this stunt I've just pulled, he would give up, and everything would go back to the way things were. He would stop caring for me, he would stop loving me and he would stop being concerned for my wellbeing.

And the idea of it all...the idea of going back to that time again...no, I couldn't. It would've been kinder if he just hadn't cared in the first place. At least then I wouldn't know what I was missing. But the strapped on piece of plastic allowing me to walk would be a constant reminder of this time. A time when I was loved and cared for. It would also be a constant reminder of how I messed things up simply with a few words and my stupid attitude.

I don't think I could do it. Things can't go back to the way they were. I've got to make things right, I've got to make it better, but my muscles are burning every time I crawl towards the door, my head is pounding and the pain is blinding and building in my leg and tears are falling and-

It was useless. My efforts and my calls and...me. I was useless. And now, to nobody's fault but my own, I would be unloved. Unwanted. Once again.

I collapse onto the floor in a pool of sobs and shaky limbs. My legs are pulled up to my chest in a fetal position, my only defense against this world. I had never felt so lost, so unsure. Would my father even listen to my apology? Would he even care enough to hear what I had to say? My words probably wouldn't fix a thing. They never did.

My eyelids slowly began to droop as exhausted crawled further and further into my consciousness. I allowed for it to have full access. What harm could it do now? All of the damage had been done, and there was nothing I could do.

I laid there on the floor, the pain in my leg and head sending waves and waves of agony over my body, yet barely comparing to the amount of pain I felt in my heart.

I think I had actually fallen asleep on the floor, because somewhere in my sleepy subconscious I heard the slight click! of a door, and then a gasp.

"Hiccup!" Called a frantic, yet familiar voice, and before I could even fully surface to reality, I felt large, calloused hands on my body as they scooped me upwards in one fluid motion. I blearily opened my eyes, trying to get a grip on my surroundings.

"Wh-?" I mumble, the heaviness of sleep present in my voice. What was going on?

"What were you doing on the floor? You fell, didn't you? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?" The voice is panicked and the hands set me down on a soft, plushy surface. Whoever was speaking was asking too many questions and my brain was still incredibly sleepy and slow. I look up to see my father's familiar grey gaze. My father...didn't something happened a few hours ago with him? I felt like I had done something wrong. Hadn't I?

Instead of answering any of his questions, I just sleepily mumble, "Dad?"

"Are you hurt?" He asks again, yet this time his large fingers are pulling back my pajama bottom pants, exposing my stump to the cool air of the hotel room. Before I could reply, he swears under his breath, his fingertips gently trailing over my stump. A dull throb begins to blossom in my knee, and I let out a small noise of discomfort. Why was my stump so sensitive?

"You did fall. You've got a huge bruise forming on your leg...oh, Gods. Hiccup, you've got to be more careful." He let out a loud sigh and began to search for something in his suitcase on the other end of the room.

Fall...my dad... we got into an argument? There was shouting and-

The past few hours all came rushing back within in seconds. I let out a slight gasp as I remember what I had said, and how he had left and how now..now things were going to be different. Things were going to go back to the way they were and I wouldn't be able to fix any of it, and it would all be my-

"Here." My father says, pulling a tube of bruise cream out of a familiar black bag that Snotlout had embarrassingly nicknamed "Hiccup's Diaper Bag" (which I wanted to kill him for, by the way.) It was a bag basically that had all of my medication, extra bandages and a first aid kit, and a ton of snacks. In times like these, it was useful.

My dad squeezed the cream into his hand and carefully applied it to my leg, being careful of the nerve endings around my knee. Why was he being so nice to me? He couldn't have possibly forgotten all about what had happened...no, absolutely no way could he-

I let out a slight hiss of pain when his thumb brushes over a particular sensitive spot. "Sorry, sorry." He whispers, and he sounds sincere, and the concern in his eyes looks real, and I just can't wrap my head around a logical explanation.

"I don't understand." I say, my tongue feeling very heavy in my mouth. "I-I thought...I didn't mean- I just-"

He finishes with my leg and gently pulls the pant leg down. "That should help with the bruising. You probably shouldn't wear your leg for a few days, just to let it-"

"Why are you being so nice?" I interrupt him.

He pulls his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

His response catches me by surprise. I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for him. I thought the damage that I had done, the hurtful words I had said..I figured I had made myself pretty clear. "Those things that I said. I-I didn't mean any of it, I'm sorry. I-I just...I figured that, since what I said-"

"Hiccup-"

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out, but I swear I didn't-"

"Hiccup, listen to-"

"You still love me?" I finished weakly. Surely, he doesn't. How could he? Maybe he was just caring for me because if my injuries got any worse, it would raise suspicion? But then he wouldn't care if I was in pain, would he?

At my words, his face falls and his jaw drops slightly. He doesn't speak for a few moments, just opens and closes his mouth until he decides to keep it closed. He gently rests his large hands on each of my wrists. "Hiccup."

Oh, Gods. Here it goes. Here comes the hatchet. He's going to tell me he does hate me and it's all over, the past few weeks now mean nothing, and everything is going to change.

"I'm sorry." I blurt out. Now was my chance to apologize before he's fully made a decision. Maybe my words can convince him to change his mind. It was worth a shot. "I-I was just angry. I know how terrible it is for me to keep bringing up the past and I know you're trying to makes things right..a-and you didn't deserve for me to say that, I-I really am sorry. You know how stupid I can be and-"

"Hiccup-"

"-and I really don't want things to go back to the way they were before. Please, I don't think I can do it, not again, not now that I know what it feels like to be..I-I just...I'm sorry, Dad. I'll do anything-"

He cuts me off by gently pulling me into a tight hug. When I open my mouth to continue my apology, he hushes me and tells me to be quiet. For once, I obey. "Hiccup," He begins, "You seriously thought that just because we had a disagreement, that I would just stop loving you?"

Shame burns on my cheeks, and I hide my face in his shirt. "B-but, all those things I said-"

"Son, there isn't anything in this world that you could say or do that would stop me from loving you." He says, and the fierceness in his voice surprises me, yet sends warmth through out my entire body. I feel him gently kiss the top of my head and nuzzle me close, sending another wave of warmth all over my entire body. "But, don't take that as a challenge, Hiccup." He says, amusement in his voice.

I don't laugh, though. His words don't really do much to subside my worries, because how could someone have that much tolerance? Maybe my mother did, with her endlessly loving heart and her beautiful ability to see potential in everything, but she isn't here anymore. It's just me and Dad, and although my father is a lot of things, I wouldn't necessarily say tolerant as one of them.

"I'm still sorry." I say into his shoulder. "I-I shouldn't have said those things, and I know-"

"Hiccup, it's okay. I understand that you were angry." His gaze finds mine, and he gently brushes a few strands off of my forehead. "You have every right to be angry."

I pull my eyebrows together. I was not expecting that. "No I don't."

Sadness appears on my father's features, and his grip on my body tightens. "The way I treated you before has affected your way of thinking, and it's hurt you not only physically but also mentally."

"Not true." I counter back. I think just fine."

Dad lets out a sigh, and carefully cups my bruised cheek, so I'm forced to look at him. "When most children get into fights with their parents, they don't automatically think afterwards that the relationship is ruined and that the love is lost. That way of thinking is not normal, Hiccup."

A bright blush burns my cheeks, and I cast my gaze downwards, because I just can't look him in the eye. What my father said was true, but I'm not like most children. I'm a hiccup. I deserve everything I get, and it's always harder to love a hiccup; a disappointment. I'm a natural born screw up. The first thing I ever did the moment I came out of my mother was disappoint both of them. There isn't normal anything about me.

"It's okay if you don't understand." My father says lightly, gently tracing his fingertips over the bridge of my nose, studying the bruises on my face. "But, you will. One day."

There is a few moments of silence, where my father just holds me tightly and I allow him. I hope I never really do loose his love, because I don't think I could ever be that alone again. Not now that I've had a taste of what it's like to be held by him, to be fussed over and worried about and kissed and squeezed and reassured, time and time again, that everything was going to be okay.

"Alright." Dad says, finality in his voice. He adjusting his grip on my body, quickly kisses the very tip of my nose and places me back onto the bed. He does it so fast I don't even register what was going on until he stands up and walks over to the desk with his laptop. "You should take it easy for the rest of day, just to be on the safe side with your head. Which is fine since there aren't really any plans this evening." He trailed off, and began speaking as if he was reading something off of a list. "And you've got to eat something, you must be starving by now. Probably a bath too if you're up for-"

"Dad?" I interrupt. He turns towards me. "What about Dagur? What are we- you- going to do about him?" We still hadn't come to a conclusion on that matter, and that's all I really cared about at this point.

My father's face fell for a split second, before it hardens quickly. "That's none of your concern. I'll handle it, don't worry."

"But it is my concern, and I am worried." I say, sitting further up in bed. I draw my legs up against my chest and rest my chin on my knees, favoring my right over my left.

"Hiccup." My father says, exhausted laced in his voice. "You have to trust me to make the right decision in this matter. I promise you-"

"But doesn't my opinion matter too?" I reply. "I mean, I'm the one he...you know." I trail off, still too embarrassed to even voice what had happened last evening.

Dad glances over at me, and I can see the battle between what to do behind his eyes. He lets out a heavy sigh, and carefully walks back over to the bed. He takes a seat on the edge and gently places a large hand on my good leg. H's silent for a moment; thinking. I wait patiently for him to say something, anything.

The next words out of his mouth catch me by surprise. "Son, I'm sorry. You're right."

I defiantly wasn't expecting that. "What?"

The creases on his forehead deepen, and suddenly my father looks far older than he truly is. I can practically see the stress and exhausted painted on his face. "You're decision on what to do does matter, and I'm sorry that I disregarded everything that you said. You're not a man yet, Hiccup, but it wasn't right of me to treat you like you were incompetent. I know you're smart, and I know you're capable of making your own decisions, but I just can't..." He swallows, and I can tell he's having a hard time getting out these next few words. "I can't- will not- have you get hurt anymore. You've already been through hell, and it's nobody's fault but my own-"

"-Dad, that's-"

"-but as your father, it's my job to protect you, no matter what." His eyes travel over my small form, and gently takes my hand in his own. "You're just so tiny, Hiccup- and so, so fragile. I'd go out of my mind if something happened to you."

I tried not to get annoyed by his statement on my appearance. If I was so fragile, than how did I managed to survive years of neglect, getting hit by a car, and loosing my leg? "But, Dad-"

He holds a hand up, silencing me. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. You're suppose to be taking it easy, for Thor's sake." By the tone of his voice, I knew that I shouldn't press any further. He had made up his mind, and there was no way to change it. I just wish I knew what his final decision was. I doubt he'd tell me.

I was about to open my mouth to ask more questions, hoping I could still change his already made up mind, when my stomach let out a loud growl. I gently placed a hand over my abdomen, feeling the twists and turns of hunger beginning to set in. For the first time in a long time, I was truly hungry.

My father curses under his breath. "You missed two feeding times." He mumbles, staring at the watch on his wrist. "We've got to get some food in you." He turns his attention back to me. "How about some room service, hm? I already know, thanks to your cousin, that my bill is going to be a tall one. Might as well add one more order."

"That wasn't my idea, by the way." I say as my father begins to walk over to me.

"I know it wasn't." He replies softly, picking me up off of the bed. "Your cousin's stomach has a mind of it's own."

He takes me to the bathroom, where he begins to draw me another bath. For the first time since the accident, I don't kick him out when he's done. I let him undress me and I try not to notice the way he stares at the trail of bruises from my jaw to my shoulders that Dagur had left. I do notice, however, the way his hands curl into fists and his eyes harden, even it's only for a split second. I don't protest when he offers his hand to me as I not so gracefully slide into the tub. I pull my knees up to my chest, still self conscious about my nakedness and the fact that my chest looks like a cheese grater, but my father makes no mention of it. He leaves me alone after handing me a wash cloth and a few bottles of soap to wash myself with.

"Call for me when you're done." He says softly, closing the bathroom door after himself.

I still couldn't believe my luck. How had I managed to keep our relationship intact, after everything I had said? Was this really happening? It still seemed too good to be true. I expected some kind of repercussion for my words. I had prepared for the worst. I could understand if he wanted to hit me; slap me across the face or throw me against a wall in pure anger. I could understand if he decided to stop feeding me or taking care of me general, making a point that without him, I was as good as dead. But kind words and soft touches? Caring hands and gentle hugs? No, I couldn't even begin to understand that. It didn't make any sense to me. But, that seemed to be my reality. Somehow, he still loved me. Yet, there were still knots in my stomach, fearing the worst was yet to come.

But for now, I would cherish every little touch and squeeze that he would send my way, afraid that at any moment, it would become my last.

Bitches really need to just stop procrastinating and get their work done!

It's me. I'm bitches.

Thank you guys for being so patient with me and so supportive! I want to wish you all a happy Easter, and if you don't celebrate Easter, than I hope you have a kick-ass Sunday.

*ALSO*: I'm thinking about starting up another project that is just a bunch of father/son one-shots that I couldn't fit into The Forgotten Boy or Secrets Revealed. (because then it would be like a million chapters long). Let me know if that's something you guys would like to see!

Comment anything you want and I'll see in the next chapter.

Ya fav hoe,

TheOneWithTheScar