This story is set in Britain. Just some translations for you to better understand the story…(in order of appearance)

Headlamps = headlights

Bonnet = Hood

Taillamps = taillights

Boot = Trunk

999 is the British equivalent of 911

Air-lift = medical helicopter

Clunk. Hiss! Pop. Hiss! Crunch. Hiss...

The battered Honda jerked to a stop on the side of the road, headlamps flickering as the battery died.

Astrid sighed. Better add that to the list of problems with this car. Diaval, her thirteen-month-old son whimpered in his sleep as the heat cut out. She pulled out her phone, hoping to call Heather for a ride, or at least a tow-truck. The dim screen flickered No Service, and she chucked it at the floor in frustration.

Maybe she could fix it. Yeah, maybe she could fix it herself. She opened the bonnet, holding it open with the prop-stick and peering inside. Her phone didn't have service, but it did have a flashlight. She sighed as the beam of light revealed the true damage. The alternator belt had snapped, winding itself up and pulling the main belt off the flywheel. It was a mess.

Astrid blinked as a pair of blinding lights appeared in the distance. Waving her hand at them, she tried to flag them down. She flipped them off as the pick-up sped by, leaving her coughing on its cloud of dust. Three more cars passed by before one of them pulled off the road to park in front of her.

A black sedan stopped about ten feet in front of her, the tail-lamps turning off as the engine cut off. The door binged, and a man stepped out of the car. She shone her flashlight at him, and the figure of a tall, lanky man with wind-swept hair and startling green eyes was revealed to her. He squinted in the sudden light, and she blinked in surprise, her flashlight lowering to the ground.

"Thanks." he said. "With that light, I couldn't see anything."

"Err, my car broke down. Again." she said, gesturing vaguely toward the vehicle behind her.

"Right. Well, let's take a look, shall we?" He took his smart-phone out of his pocket, turning on his own flashlight.

A piercing cry broke the silent night. Diaval had woken up, and didn't appear to be very happy. Astrid opened the door, taking him out and bouncing him in her arms.

"Oh, are you not happy? What's wrong, Diaval?" she cooed to him.

Behind her, the man smiled as he inspected her engine.

"What are you smirking at, random-person-who-I-don't-know?" she snapped at him, her baby quieting in his mother's arms.

He laughed. "The name's Hiccup Horrendous Haddock."

She gawked at him, her arms stilling. "That's really your-"

"Yeah, I have a strange name, I know. You should hear my friend's, though." he said, trailing off. "What's yours?"

"Astrid." she told him.

He nodded. "I already know your child is Diaval." The child in question squirmed but remained asleep.

She nodded toward the raised bonnet. "Any luck with the car?"

He smiled at her. "Today just might be your lucky day! I think my air conditioning belt might be just the right size for your car." She smiled in relief, placing her baby back in his car seat.

She followed him over to his car, her flashlight shining on his bonnet as he opened it.

"Hold on, I've got the proper tools somewhere..." he said, walking around to search the boot for them.

Hiccup found them, rooting through them for the right ones. "Here we are."

His nimble fingers soon had his A/C belt off, and they turned to face Astrid's car, ready to get it working.

Two blinding head-lamps made a swerving path down the road, the car going way too fast. Hiccup realized the path the vehicle would make, darting for Astrid's child, her at his tail. But they weren't fast enough. The pick-up truck slammed into the Honda, right on the rear door. Sparks flew as both cars skittered across the road, landing in the ditch. The gas tank ruptured from the force of the accident, spraying gasoline over both cars.

Hiccup was in front of Astrid by about a foot, and the truck clipped him, sending his body crashing to the ground. The truck slammed into a dip, the rear end rose in the air, slamming down on the fallen Hiccup.

He screamed in pain as the bed of the truck slammed down on his leg, bones snapping like twigs and flesh ripping like paper. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he felt his eyes closing of their own accord.

Astrid didn't even slow her strides as she ran to her car, trying to open the door that had crumpled like tin-foil. The door wouldn't budge, trapped by the crumpled truck, so she dashed for the passenger side door, wrenching it open and clambering over the seat to get to Diaval. She gasped as she found him, his arm mangled and bloody. A white bone protruded from his leg, and his cries of pain were gasping and hoarse. He coughed, blood exploding from his mouth. Astrid had little medical knowledge, but she knew this wasn't good.

Astrid rapidly unbuckled the child, carrying him free of the wreckage. She carefully placed him face-down and tipped him forward, hoping to get the blood out of his lungs. It worked. He coughed again, and the blood flowed freely from his mouth.

Hiccup lay on his back, his vision blurry and unfocused. He felt an excruciating pain coming from his left leg, and he knew that it was severely injured. But what about Diaval? He was in the car when it got hit. What had happened to him?

He forced himself to ignore the pain, blinking a few times to focus his eyes. His eyes were drawn to a blood-soaked Astrid, a bloody mess in her hands. With a start, he realized that was Diaval, broken and battered and covered in blood.

"Astrid, bring him here!" he called.

She ran over, keeping the boy tipped forwards.

"I-I'm in me-medical school." Hiccup gasped out. "Y-You have to keep him t-t-tipped like t-that, and k-keep him awake." Astrid nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "We h-have to wrap s-something around h-his arm and leg to s-stop the b-bleeding."

Astrid ripped her sweater off, tearing it in half. She tightly wrapped one around his leg, and the other around his arm. The blood soaked through the make-shift bandages in minutes.

While the woman busied herself caring for her child, she dug her phone out of her pocket, dialing 9-9-9. Her phone flashed No Service again, and she chucked it as hard as she could, the glass screen shattering on the road. Hiccup felt around for his phone, finding it and swiping the screen. He dialed the number, crying out in joy as the phone rang. The operator came on, and Hiccup had a brief conversation before Astrid ripped the phone from his hands.

"GET THE FUCK OVER HERE NOW! MY BABY IS DYING IN MY ARMS WHILE YOU SCREW AROUND AND ASK FOR NAMES!" she screamed into the phone as tears pouring down her face, washing away the blood. They promised her they already had an ambulance on the way, but Hiccup interrupted.

"It won't be fast enough. The child has already lost half of his blood, has ribs rupturing his lungs, and a shattered leg and arm. You need an air-lift, pronto." The operator said she'd do her best, and that someone should be there within fifteen minutes.

Hiccup cried out in pain as the truck shifted. A sudden whoosh and the gasoline leaking from Astrid's car went up in flames. They estimated that they had about ten minutes before Hiccup was on fire, so Astrid gave Diaval to Hiccup and tried to lift the truck off of him.

An explosion made them all duck. A tire had burnt out, and another one was soon to follow. Astrid could feel the heat radiating off the crash as the truck caught on fire too. The airbags on Astrid's car exploded, causing pieces of burning rubber, hot metal, and melted glass to fly into the air. Hiccup turned to protect the child in his arms, letting the debris strike him instead of Diaval.

Astrid tried to lift the truck again, feeling the metal become hot in her hands. Hiccup could feel the metal heating as well, burning his leg and cauterizing the bleeding. She felt a surge of adrenalin pump through her, and with one mighty heave, she lifted the truck off of Hiccup's leg. He cried out in pain, but moved his leg.

She dropped the truck-bed down, and dragged Hiccup away from the burning wreckage. The driver of the truck stumbled out of the cab, a liquor bottle in his hand as he collapsed into a ditch.

"Astrid!" he cried out. Diaval's breathing had become more labored, and the flow of blood was beginning to stop. He was very pale, and his pulse had slowed dramatically.

He was almost bled out.

Astrid was at her son's side in seconds. "No-no! Diaval! Stay with me bud, Okay? You can't die on me. You've got to stay with me. Diaval!"

He breathed a rattling breath out, coughing up some blood, and then he closed his eyes. "NO!" she screamed. She placed her two fingers on his damaged chest, beginning CPR. "Come on, Diaval, don't leave me!"

The air around them stirred, the lights from the paramedic helicopter illuminating the scene with noon-day brilliance. Paramedics swarmed out of the helicopter, one carefully prying the child from his mother's arms.

"NO!" she screamed. "DIAVAL!"

She ran after the paramedic, climbing in the helicopter after him. The helicopter lifted off, carrying both the child and the mother off. Two paramedics remained with Hiccup as a wailing filled the night. Flashing lights filled is vision, but he didn't care anymore. Astrid and Diaval were safe. He closed his eyes, and vaguely felt his body being transported onto a gurney and loaded into the ambulance.

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Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

This was the sound that greeted Hiccup back into the life of the living.

He sat up, before promptly falling back down. His left ankle and foot itched, while at the same time, feeling numb. His leg hurt though, and it hurt badly. Tears pricked at his eyes, and his heart thumped in his chest as he tried to sit up again, this time more slowly. Something in his left leg felt….off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it didn't feel right.

Slowly lifting the blanket up, he blinked in surprise before dropping it back down. That couldn't be right. The last thing he remembered was stopping to help a lady on the side of the road.

It all came flooding back to him, striking him like a freight train. Astrid! What had happened to her? And Diaval? What had happened to him?

"Astrid! Astrid, are you all right?" he called to the dark.

His heart thumped heavily in his chest, the heart monitor's beeps speeding up. A loud buzzing filled the room as Hiccup tried to get out of the hospital bed, ignoring the pain in his lower leg. One foot planted itself flatly on the floor. Red and scarred, the stump of his leg dangled above the floor.

His eyes darted around the room, falling upon a crutch in the corner. He hopped on his right foot, leaning heavily on the wall for support. The door of his hospital room banged open, and a nurse walked in. She immediately ushered him back to his bed, giving him a forceful prod in the back when he refused.

"Where's Astrid? Is she okay? What happened to Diaval?" he demanded.

"I don't know if we can release that to you." she admitted. "I can bring Astrid to see you, though."

"Please." Hiccup whispered, leaning against his pillow.

The nurse left the room, and the door clicked shut behind her. Hiccup closed his eyes, worried about Astrid. He hoped that Diaval was alright, but he didn't even know how long he had been out.

He didn't know how many minutes passed, his brain whirring, but his eyes snapped open as the door opened slowly. Golden hair and blue eyes adorned the face of Astrid. But it wasn't the Astrid Hiccup had met. This Astrid looked tired, even defeated. Dark rings shadowed her sunken eyes; her hair was singed and unkempt. Soot was smudged on her face, and she had a split lip. Worst of all, though, was the absence of the sparkle that once shone in her eyes. Her blue eyes seemed empty and desolate, red from crying.

"Astrid, are you alright?" he asked. She nodded, but she didn't look it. "How's Diaval doing?"

At this, her attempt at a calm façade broke. She started crying; first a tear rolling down her cheek, then many, after that, a sob. Within seconds, she was on her knees sobbing. Hiccup knew that it could only mean one thing. Diaval had died in that horrific, fiery crash. He crawled out of the hospital bed, making his way to the woman who he'd only known for two days.

He hugged her tight, trying his best to comfort her. His own tears dripped onto her hair as he tried to relay his grief and sorrow to her. She understood, hugging him back. When the nurse returned twenty minutes later, she found the two of them, sobbing on the floor and holding each other. Grieving the loss that tore them apart, together.

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Hey everyone! Yes, you are probably thinking "Hey! That Joan-person-who-never-updates-her-stories is uploading a new one-shot, even though she told us that she was no longer writing!" Yes, I did say that. Yes, I realize I'm making myself a laughing-stock for ditching that promise so soon. Oh well.

I realized that the phrase "Practice makes perfect" literally rings true here. I can't get better at writing if I don't actually write, and the whole reason for fan-fiction is to help us to become better writers. As Stoic once said, "I was a fool!" And I was. My bad!

About the story: This was a completely random idea that I got after our car overheated heading back from a band concert, and one of my friends stopped to help us. (A shout-out to her, because I would have never written this emotionally-sapping, time-consuming, story that made me tear my hair out in frustration at some points, and kiss my computer at others.) I thought it was a good idea, but I needed a good dose of angst and tragedy. And bam! Enter drunk-driver in large, American truck to kill off important characters. Which is too bad, because I had a whole list of character traits written up on him.

Anywho, I finally got this written, edited, and proofed (six times). I'm thinking about writing a second, and maybe a third, chapter. Maybe the funeral or the court case where Mr. Drunk is convicted. Or maybe complications with Astrid's pregnancy.

Oh, that got your attention! I didn't mention Astrid was pregnant? Oh, I am a little stinker! Maybe I should kill off that kiddo too…or maybe it's Hiccup's child. You decide! Leave a review stating what you'd like to see, or give me a good idea and I'll write it!

~Best Wishes, Joan McCreedy

P.S. I've been working on some other angsty stuff, and I've been doing my research. To the point where my sister checked my browser history, and went screaming to my mom that I was planning to kill them! (What? I was just looking up what spots on the human body would kill you the fastest if stabbed. And the deadliest poisons…and strangest deaths in Europe (getting killed by a hay-bale while driving a stolen news-van takes the cake)…and head trauma causing progressive permanent blindness…and life in Croatia…Okay, Fine! I can see her point. Happy now?)

P.P.S. Two things: First, thank you to my dad, for pointing out the many, MANY errors I had and fixing them. Second. YOU UTTER FOOLS! YOU BITCH AT ME FOR NOT PUTTING THAT IT WAS A MODERN AU IN THE STORY DESCRIPTION, BUT YOU OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T READ IT! SINCE WHEN ARE THE WORDS CAR, MOTORIST, AND HIGHWAY PART OF VIKING CULTURE?! Good grief, people are just stupid sometimes.