Of the Northmost Winds and Skies

Chapter 18: Jack crashes a party

The next few days were purposefully busy. Hiccup had his obligations with the dragon race – not that it felt like one; he was looking forward to it as much as everyone else – and also taking care of Jack, who'd woken up the morning after their conversation on the pier with a pretty terrible cold.

Jack's reaction to that news had been (surprise, surprise) a strange one. To be fair, he'd been quite delirious, and had for some reason insisted that it was impossible that he had a cold. Then, when his head seemed to clear, he'd laughed about it; a soft, very exasperated laugh. The remnants of his voice sounded more like a Deadly Nadder than a Jack.

Their conversation that morning had been short, despite Jack feeling the need to beat around the bush. Obviously, he was a bit embarrassed by what had happened on that pier.

"Really. You're under a lot of pressure, Jack. I'm not judging you for anything," Hiccup had reassured him.

Jack's gaze was elusive. "...Anything?" he'd echoed softly.

To which Hiccup had hesitated. If he was to act on his genuine feelings, he'd tell Jack that he couldn't just go around keeping secrets. He couldn't lie to everyone and expect people to accept it, much less trust him. He wanted to say that after all this time, after saving his life – multiple times already – why couldn't he trust Hiccup enough to tell him what was going on.

But his genuine feelings didn't stop there. True, he wanted to know it all, not just the half-truths, so much that his chest ached if he thought too much about it. But if he'd told Jack that he couldn't just go around keeping secrets and then expect to be trusted, Hiccup would've been lying. Because he did, no matter how naïve it probably was, trust him.

"I'd like to hear, one day," Hiccup had finally replied. "But that doesn't have to be today. Or tomorrow. We're friends, Jack. I trust you."

Maybe it was so easy to say it because something about Jack's expression told Hiccup that he would tell him one day. Jack wanted to tell him. But for some mysterious reason, he couldn't.

"There's just one thing I'd like to ask," Hiccup had continued. He shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the edge of the bed. Trying to hold Jack's gaze was like cupping water in his hands. "...Are you in danger somehow?"

Jack's answer had felt like a rock in Hiccup's stomach. He didn't say anything but nodded once.

"Can I help somehow?"

"I don't know... yet."

It wasn't much, but Hiccup held onto that final word like a lifeline. In the following week, it kept replaying in his mind whenever his thoughts wandered to Jack. Which was, troubling enough, quite often. Even in the midst of training for the race, he found himself getting lost in thought. He'd been convinced it would go unnoticed – after all, flying with Toothless was nearly second nature to him at this point – but thinking so was naïve. There was always one person who could read him better than he could read himself.

"How's Jack doing?" Astrid asked while she was sharpening her axe. Why she needed that for the dragon race, Hiccup didn't know, and she wouldn't tell him.

They were sitting in the arena, which was empty aside from the two of them and their dragons. Hiccup sat cross-legged on the ground with a safe distance between himself and Astrid's axe, tinkering with a new prosthetic.

"Jack? Oh, he's... getting better," he mumbled absently. "Slowly."

"It's been five days," Astrid said. "I'd gotten the impression he was pretty resistant to the cold. I guess not."

"Hmm. Yeah." Hiccup scribbled down a note on the paper beside him, then held the metal piece up to the light. To be fair, Jack had been recovering quite fast, despite how bad the cold had been to begin with.