I'm just waiting for the day you come home again,

but you live in a different world now.

Maybe you're waiting for me to come home, too.

I promise you, one day I will stand in your door

and feel home in your arms again.

-Unknown

A heavy, charcoal-colored cloud had fallen over the small house they lived in on the outskirts of the city that morning, chasing away the words that neither one of them wanted to speak. Not now; too soon and yet too late.

Astrid pressed her cheek into Hiccup's soft hair as his arms found solace around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands idly wove strands of auburn hair together into a small braid beneath his left ear as his body shook, hot tears soaking into the collar of her dress. She, too, cried silently.

"I can't go, Astrid," he said, "I just can't. There has to be something we can do, some kind of loophole or-"

She kissed his cheek, savoring the feeling of his warm, living skin beneath her lips, his presence and solidness in her arms. "I know, babe, I know. I'm scared too," she said. She fought to hide the tremble in her voice as she spoke. "But we both know what will happen if we try to run from this."

At first, it had been no more than a great shock, incredibly slow to sink in. Hiccup had been called to the front lines and, despite their efforts to fight against this decision, nothing could be done about it. Her Hiccup was being ripped away from her to be thrown into the cold clutches of a war raging overseas. Her gentle, sweet Hiccup who had never hurt a soul in his life, would be expected to take them by the handful.

Then the coldness had set in. Her hands shook and her heart had seemed to collapse in on itself in search of one more beat of warmth and love, sending waves of pain through her chest. It became increasingly difficult to do work around the house, so she had allowed herself to stumble and fall from her rigid routine into Hiccup's embrace. For hours they would sit, just holding each other and remembering memories of cool summer nights spent together on the porch watching their two dogs play on the lawn and stolen kisses in the shelter of Hiccup's garage while sheets of rain poured down from the sky, crashing into the roof over their heads.

Sometimes, he sang to her. Songs he had heard on the radio, songs he had made up on his way home from work, songs his mother had once whispered to chase away his nightmares as a young child. Astrid found something soothing about the carefree way he had once sung as he danced about the house with Toothless and Stormfly, wearing a smile she dared to say rivalled the brightness of the hot sunshine that now filtered through the window over the kitchen sink.

He was her everything. Maybe that was why her heart clenched at the thought of him in uniform, halfway across the world; too far away for her to pull him into her arms and brush away his tears like she had grown accustomed to doing over the past week since the news had struck them.

A shuddering sob left her lips, followed by a wave of fresh tears. She buried her face in his hair, promising herself that she would remember his woodsy scent and the way his arms tightened around her.

"Astrid. Please don't cry," Hiccup whispered.

She shook her head, lifting her head to meet his swollen, red eyes with her own. "How can I not, Hiccup? Everything is changing for the worst. My hands shake so badly that I can't even write my own name. I'll probably lose my job at the diner next. I-I don't know what to do anymore," she said, her voice rising steadily as she rambled on, her fears coming tumbling out all once in a jumbled mess of words.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I just...I hate it, Astrid. I hate not being able to do anything but play along with their game. I'm nothing more than a pawn." He trained his eyes on the window, his lips pressed in a wavering line. "It's not fair," he croaked.

She blinked away the tears blurring her vision as best she could as she lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. When he didn't, she said his name softly, willing him to listen. He did, his arms still wrapped loosely around her waist. "You're right. It's not fair. They shouldn't be able to toy with our lives the way they do, but there is nothing we alone can do but turn a blind eye to it," she said.

Her hand left his face to slip into his hair, pulling him closer so that she could begin to work on a new braid, tying it off with a rubber band she found in the pocket of her dress. "But while that might be true, don't you ever think that you are just a pawn. You are so much more than that, Hiccup. If you weren't, we wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't be here right now. But I am because I love you." She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes wandering over his shoulder.

The old wooden clock in the hall, a last minute housewarming gift from her mother, chimed once. Their eyes met again.

"The train leaves at quarter after one," Hiccup whispered.

She nodded slowly. She stood as he did, pulling her jacket from the closet and watching as he kissed both dogs' heads, smiling as they licked his cheeks and nudged their heads under his arms. At last, he stood, sparing them one last glance before following Astrid outside into the warm sunshine. She cursed the sun for daring to shine on such a day, the warmth on her shoulders yet another reminder of where they were going and how quiet the walk home would be.

She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, his arm slipping around her waist. The tan fabric of his jacket was stiff against her cheek and smelled of dust like it had been sitting and waiting for him for years. Maybe it had.

As they grew closer to the train station, they found themselves surrounded by a crowd of people, all heading in various directions. Hiccup clung to Astrid's waist as she fisted a hand in his sleeve, his eyes trained ahead. She tugged on his sleeve, urging him to walk slower as they approached the train. She could see the train ticket in his pocket, the white slip of paper daunting her as they came to a stop, the train's open door within sight.

One way trip.

Hiccup turned to her, a forced smile on his lips. "Maybe if we're lucky I'll be home in time for Christmas. Then we can finally go on that trip to California, so you can see the ocean," he joked. She cracked a smile at him, but her eyes watered with tears that threatened to fall with the next inappropriately timed blink or glance. When they finally did, he wiped them away with his thumb, warm and real and alive.

"Promise me that you'll come home," she said hoarsely.

"I promise. Christmas, remember? One way or another, I'm going to make sure you get to the ocean, Milady." He pulled her into his chest and her chin fit into the crook of his shoulder as his arms fell into their rightful place around her waist; pieces of a puzzle sliding into place.

"I can't wait," she mumbled into his neck. She pulled away as the crowd are around them disappeared. Their eyes met, forest green and sky blue, and drank in the other, committing it all to memory. Astrid's fingers found the back of his neck then, pulling him down as she stood on her toes to reach his lips. Her Hiccup, her sweet, gentle Hiccup, was still hers, just as she was still his.

"I love you so much," he told her as they broke apart, time visibly slipping away as the line to board the train grew shorter and the hands on the clock spun. His green eyes shimmered with fresh tears, but he smiled at her.

"I love you too, babe."

Then he was dashing up the steps and through the open door of the train. She watched, following on the other side, as he raced passed the windows until he finally found an open seat. He mouthed the word ocean as the train shuddered and started forward, his hand pressed against the glass. Astrid raised a hand but couldn't bring herself to wave as the train pulled out of the station, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks.

For years she waited, hoping and watching. She jumped every time the phone rang and held her breath every time a new piece of mail was slipped into the mailbox with the catalogues and odd letters from her parents in Chicago.

She kept a jar on top of the fridge that she filled with spare change when there was any to be found, which wasn't often. Her job at the diner didn't pay all that well. Yet still she clung to the hope that someday he would be home, and they would open that jar, which was nearly full now, and spend every cent on two roundtrip train tickets for the most luxurious of passenger trains and meals at fancy restaurants where famous film stars dined comfortably on the West Coast. Even as two Christmases came and went, she waited.

Hiccup had never been one to break a promise.

Though as the third Christmas approached, she began to wonder whether or not she was being logical. Save once or twice, he had never written back even as she continued to send a letter out every Monday. Some nights she lain awake for hours, just staring at the ceiling. The dogs slept on the floor near her, which provided minimal comfort, but it wasn't the same as having Hiccup beside her. She missed his woodsy scent and his forest green eyes.

So it came as a surprise when she heard the rumble of an approaching car outside the house in the early fall of 1944. She had been in the middle of folding the laundry in the bedroom when the noise floated through the open window beside her.

Hiccup.

Her heart fluttered as she stood, smoothing her skirt and running for the door when she heard it: a knock. She paused at the foot of the stairs, the two figures on the other side visible through the window set into the door.

Stories she had overheard in the diner told her all she needed to know. For years, she had hoped that, of all things, this moment would never be one she would encounter. She could feel her throat growing thick and her eyes becoming hot. She took a shuddering breath and opened the door, setting her jaw as she gazed at the two men standing on the porch.

"Mrs. Haddock?"

She nodded wordlessly, seeing but not hearing.

"We have been asked to inform you that your husband…"

The image of the change jar flashed through her mind, never to be spent on two roundtrip train tickets for the most luxurious of passenger trains and meals at fancy restaurants where famous film stars dined comfortably on the West Coast. The dogs, Toothless specifically, who waited by the door for Hiccup every afternoon around the time he would have arrived home from work three years ago.

"We extend to you and your family our deepest sympathy…"

One of the men held a paper package out to her. Only then did she notice how young they were, barely older than boys. They couldn't have been older than Hiccup had been when he left. She took the package gently and went back into the house, closing the door behind her even as the men continued to stare after her, clearly taken by surprise.

Her eyes glazed over with tears as she took the package into the kitchen and ripped it open with a pair of scissors. She gently pulled the fabric free, a sob leaving her lips. Her thumb found the collar, where she had sewn the letters H.H. in black thread, swearing as the needle pierced her skin now and then, Hiccup watching her from where he sat on the floor with his sketchbook in his lap.

She pulled the jacket on, taking comfort in the way the lingering familiar scent of pine and charcoal surrounded her. She pulled it tighter around herself as she walked through the quiet house. She stopped at a framed picture on the wall near the stairs. It was she and Hiccup on their wedding day not quite four years before, both smiling and oblivious to what was to come.

"You kept your promise," she whispered to the picture.