Nineteen: Countdown.

It had been frustrating, trying to fire the pistol Astrid had brought him. His broken hand made holding the pistol agonising and the wrappings he needed to support the broken bones meant he couldn't grip the weapon as tightly as he needed. His aim was off and his draw was appalling...and both would cost him his life. But he had shot again and again until his arm was numb and his ears ringing...but the pain and the wrappings foiled him. So finally he slumped forward, exhausted and dispirited.

"Have a break," Astrid said gently, offering him a mug of some herbal tea she had brewed. He accepted wordlessly, really wishing for a cup of mead but knowing there was zero chance of that.

"I can't hope to finish Dagur if I'm this useless," he murmured. "He'd shoot my ass off."

"And such a cute ass," Astrid smirked. His green eyes flicked up to inspect her face. It was three days now since he'd escaped from Berk and while the bruises on his face were starting to fade, his more serious injuries had only just started healing. He smiled back: Astrid had stuck firmly to his side, only flying back to Gothi's once to check on her brother, and caring for him as his own personal nurse. She had practiced her shooting as well-she was a pretty fair shot, as Ryder had noted with surprise-though she had explained her father had wanted her not to be helpless. Neither one mentioned that one brave woman was little match for an entire gang of utterly amoral Berserkers.

"You know, I never did get to inspect yours," he reminded her and she punched him in the shoulder. He yelped and glared at her. "Owww! I'll never heal if you keep give me new bruises to add to my collection!" She leaned forward and dared a peck on the cheek.

"Better?" she asked him and he stared at her in shock. Then he pulled himself together and hummed in pleasure.

"I think I just died and went to Valhalla!" he murmured causing her to blush fiercely. "Which is where I'll be if I can't manage to shoot straight!"

"You are awesome," she reminded him. "You don't just lose all that...it'll come back...in time..." But his emerald gaze flicked up as he heard Leo limp into the mine, murmuring hellos to the dragons. Wincing and giving her hand a squeeze, Ryder stiffly got up and walked achingly toward his Uncle. The man had brought yet another upgrade to Toothless's tail and the dragon obediently lined up waiting for it to be fitted. Ryder's own skills-he was a fair blacksmith when he put his mind to it-had enabled him to help Leo work the kinks out of the tail assembly-especially as he had insisted on flying the thing strictly against Gothi's orders. The two men had worked well together but there was something that Ryder needed to ask him. So he waited until Toothless had sprinted to the entrance, showing off his tail excitedly to Stormfly and Star and sighed.

"Be with you in a moment, bud," he murmured. "Just got something I need to ask Leo." The older man lifted his face and grimaced.

"Y'know, that sounds anything but good," he sighed. Ryder walked closer, still limping slightly as his Uncle clumsily got up. "What is it, Hiccup? Can I help you with anything?" Ryder gestured to his left hand.

"How did you cope?" he asked directly and saw the man wince. He closed his eyes for a long moment and took a shuddering breath.

"You know I was left-handed...like you are?" Ryder nodded. "When Alvin took me down, he made sure he...cut off my trigger finger so I could never threaten him again. He broke my hand...both my legs...and when the Whispering Death attacked, I instinctively threw up my hand to protect myself...and well, there wasn't much left...just enough to grip a pencil." Ryder closed his eyes and grimaced. Then he heard Leo walk closer and felt the man's right hand grip his face and lift his chin. He opened his eyes to gaze into the scarred face-almost his own face twenty years hence, if he had been on the wrong side of Alvin.

"Hiccup-when they took my hand, I thought I would never shoot a pistol again...but I learned how to, using my other hand," Leo told him in a low voice. "And I won't be ever as good as I was-but I can handle myself. You, my friend, still have your hand. And it will be painful and it will make you not wanna do it but you have to take that wrapping off and keep the hand loose. Don't let the pain own you-you own it. Because Astrid says you are quick enough to stop Dagur the Deranged and Gods know, he needs stopping!"

"But how do you cope after...this?" Ryder asked softly, gesturing to himself. The older man narrowed his eyes, hearing maybe a hint of fear...

"This happened before, didn't it?" he asked. "How did you cope then?" Ryder turned away abruptly, his head down and shoulders tense. Astrid, who had come to listen, saw his face: taut and pained.

"I have my revenge," he murmured softly. "I had to track down the men who killed my wife. It gave me a reason to go on." Leo's eyes flicked over to the shape of Astrid, her azure eyes concerned.

"You got a better one now, Hiccup," he told him firmly. "That woman over there loves you-Gods alone know why! And while I've missed the last twenty years of your life, I have every intention of being in the remaining however long." Before his eyes, the younger man straightened up a little and lifted his head to see Astrid looking at him. He gave a small nod as she walked forward and hesitantly took his good hand. He gently raised it to his mouth and kissed it, then turned his head slightly to look at his uncle.

"Y'know, when Alvin tried to take Mom and me, he didn't just kill Mom," he said quietly, "he stole twenty years of my life with my family-my true father, my uncles, my cousin. And Spitelout and Snotlout are dead-though what crazy family would name them that anyway...?" Leo grinned-he had the same reservations about Haddock naming traditions. "Help me shoot again and fly Toothless-and I'll help you stop Alvin."

"And then we'll all stop Dagur!" Astrid added, her grip tightening reassuringly on his hand. Ryder shook his head.

"The Berserkers," he corrected her. "But Dagur is mine."

oOo

Stoick stared at the little photograph as he did every evening by the light of the oil lamp. The image of the little family: himself with the sternest and proudest expression possible, Valka with the serene expression on her beautiful face and the small baby sat on her lap, his tuft of reddish-brown hair appearing dark on the sepia picture. His big thumb slid gently over the image and he gave a heavy sigh.

"I know she loved you to the very end, Stoick, but she wouldn't have been too impressed with how you've performed since," a voice said from the back of the room. In a flash, the huge man was up, his revolver in his hand, pointing steadily at the man who was in the furthest shadows of the room, his lean shape sheathed in the gloom.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? You can tell Dagur..." Stoick growled. The lean outline sighed and shifted slightly.

"Never met Dagur so I doubt I could tell him anything," the man said quietly. "And I would rather you didn't shoot me. I mean no harm." There was a slight movement as the man tilted his head. "Hmm-you look like you've been in the wars recently." There was a large fading bruise on the Sheriff's forehead, the swelling subsiding since he was knocked out by Dagur a week earlier.

"Who are you?" the Sheriff growled.

"You know, Alvin is coming back?" the man said quietly. "Dagur killed some of his gang and destroyed his compound...but the man and his wife got away. He will have contacted his brother and he will be returning to Berk to avenge the attack...and the death of his 'son'."

"Snotlout wasn't his son," Stock said in a dead voice, his aim not wavering.

"Alvin thought he was," the intruder said quietly. "He'd adopted him as his Heir. I know he shot Spitelout to claim him. I know Snotlout was a loathsome narcissistic self-absorbed individual who kidnapped a young woman to rape and abuse at will."

"Dagur was-is-still looking for Astrid Hofferson," Stoick murmured tonelessly.

"She was rescued by Ryder, who slew Snotlout and ensured Alvin blamed Dagur's gang for it," the intruder said softly.

"How do you know?" the Sheriff asked, cocking the hammer of his gun. The lean shape lifted his hands.

"I'm unarmed," he said softly. "I think we both know the answer, Stoick." The Sheriff's face folded into a scowl.

"I need to speak to that murderer," he growled.

"He is your SON!" the intruder said decisively. Stoick suddenly leapt forward, a hand closing around the man's neck and slamming him hard against the back wall. There was a groan and the imprisoned man stiffened as the cold muzzle of the gun pressed into his chest.

"I could kill you and no one would bat an eyelid!" the Sheriff snarled. "I've had more than enough of you scum plaguing this town..." The man took a shuddering breath and then spoke very softly.

"Wouldn't matter because I am already dead," he said.

Stoick swung him round by the neck and threw him bodily across the room, tipping over the table and slamming across the carpet. The scrawny man moved painfully, winded and bruised from the brutal impact, his messy grey-streaked auburn hair dishevelled and obscuring his face. Painfully, he shoved his arms under his body and pushed himself upwards, his left hand wrapped in layers of bindings, his left foot missing and a metal prosthesis replacing the missing extremity. Stiffly, the man lifted his head and stared up into the furious face of the Sheriff.

"Hello, brother," he said defeatedly. Stoick's eyes widened and his grip on the gun tightened dangerously, his hand shaking. His eyes fixed on the horrible scars over the man's left cheek and eye, the bandaged hand and missing left lower leg. And the familiar emerald gaze.

"Impossible," he gasped.

"No more than the 'murderer' you wish to speak to actually being your lost son," Leo said quietly. "But I have seen and spoken to him and I am convinced he is my sister's lost son. Gods, the boy is the image of me...before I decided to arrest Alvin..."

"But Gobber said...heard..."

"You know, over all the years I have nursed my amputations and the aching in my broken legs and hidden my ruined face from you and pretty much everyone and never dared to return to Berk because I feared Alvin would kill me and anyone near me, I have always wondered...why the hell didn't you come with me and bring a Gods-damned posse?" Leo asked him sharply, pushing himself up to his knees. "You completely abdicated responsibility, Stoick! She was my sister as well and I wanted her avenged and her murderers brought to justice. I wanted to see if there was any chance of retrieving her lost son...but you just sat by her grave or sat here and waved us away. And Gobber and I busted our asses, shaking men down, chasing leads, investigating everything we could. But we needed you! And when we had the evidence, the names, had you and enough men come, we could have got him! We could have put out a warrant for Espen Randall and got the boy back! But instead, you told Gobber and I to go alone...and the rest...well, did you even bother to put a memorial up for me or was I as forgotten as your son?"

Stoick uncocked and lowered his gun.

"Gobber heard you die!" he said. Leo painfully staggered to his feet, grimacing.

"He heard me scream," he argued shortly. "Strangely, having a Whispering Death bite your leg off will do that! Did you send anyone to come and see if there was anything left?"

"Well, Gobber was injured and..."

"I fucking know you didn't!" Leo shouted. "I lay there for over a day, mangled and dying of blood loss and shock...until Starlight came to rescue me. If they had shot him down, I would have died. You could have come. You could have saved me. In the end, the only place I had was with Gothi...and when I finally recovered enough from my wounds to leave her hut, Berk was lost. And of course, you never went after the boy, either."

"I-I..."

"I gave you my notes...everything I had learned!" Leo told him angrily. "And because of that, he was lost for twenty years. He lost twenty years as your son! And in that time, his 'father' was murdered and his wife was raped and murdered before him. And he wouldn't have suffered that pain if you had done your Gods-damned job!" He limped back and forth across the carpet. "I've spoken to him-Gods, he's a sarcastic shit, but he's also brave and has a well-buried sense of right and wrong. But he will stand up for those he cares for...like a man I used to know..."

"I can't do anything!" Stoick said gruffly. "They all have more men than me. Dagur owns more than half the town and Alvin owns the rest."

"Bullshit!" Leo snapped. "You call the Governor and the State Marshals and they'll come and set this town aright-if you call. Is it your pride? Or just have you abandoned them like you abandoned me and the boy?" He limped towards the back door. "Alvin is coming. Drago Darkheart is coming! And Dagur is in control of the town, is terrorising the town!" He paused, breathing heavily. "If you won't do something, I know a man who will..."

And with that, he left, the door closing almost soundlessly as Stoick stared at the faded sepia photograph.

"Son..." he murmured.

oOo

Ryder determinedly removed the wrappings from his broken hand and stared at the bruised mess. It almost hurt to look at but he slowly gritted his teeth and grasped his pistol firmly. His face was pale between the bruises and he was sweating with pain as he aimed and fired. His first few shots were off but he concentrated harder than he had since he first picked up a pistol, after Heather had been murdered and soon, every shot was impacting the same point on the abandoned ore truck.

Quietly, he moved back and repeated the process again, then began drawing, aiming and firing. The pain almost killed him and he dropped his pistol a couple of times, but eventually, he could manage a reasonably slick movement. It wasn't his normal speed but it would probably do...

...except against Dagur.

Once his hand was aching beyond endurance, he had whistled Toothless and limped to the dragon, this time trying out the latest modifications Leo had made to the tail assembly and controls before he got in the air. It had been a week since he first flew on the Night Fury and he had now started to form a genuine and close bond with the dragon. They soared the skies away from town, flipping and swooping, learning to fly as one using a tail that Leo had devised but which Ryder had helped modify until it had become the work of both men...and one dragon.

Astrid remained at his side as he relearned how to shoot, talking to him and seeing him unfreeze just a little every day. Gustav had flown Gothi on the seventh day, protesting that Leo was busy, and she had managed to make it plain that she had no intentions of repeating the trip with a whooping out-of-control twelve year old on an equally out of control dragon. And then Ryder had sat down and had a stern talk with the boy about dragon ownership and responsibilities to others...especially passengers...

But when they had left and Ryder settled by the fire, Astrid had come to sit by his side as she had almost every time since he awoke. She poked the stew in the pot and served up a generous portion for the convalescent and he obediently took a mouthful, then gave a small sigh. "It was almost worth getting beat up to get such good stew," he sighed, his lips quirking in a smile.

"You know, Gustav told me you were a pretty good cook yourself," she teased him. He cast her an amused smirk.

"Um...Dad couldn't cook...and nor could Heather...so I learned to cook from a young age," he admitted. "And when Gobber tried to poison me with his appalling stew, I knew I ought to at least take over the cooking while I was there..."

"Apparently the twins and Gustav feasted off your leftovers," she teased him.

"And my reputation takes another hit!" he sighed. "Between rescuing damsels in distress and cooking a mean stew, how'm I s'posed to make a living as a ruthless gunslinger?"

"Maybe a change of career would be in order?" she suggested, resting her head on his shoulder. He cautiously slid an arm around her waist, looking askance from her. He was very aware that she had been very much misused and wanted to make sure that she was comfortable with any contact...but she smiled and snuggled against him, closing her eyes.

"Hmm...not sure what," he murmured. "Maybe dragon wrangling and training. It's what I'm best at, I guess..."

"Whatever you want to do, I will support you," she murmured. "After all, some kind soul gave me a little over two thousand dollars to keep me going...and I guess I would want to share them with the man I love..." He stiffened and she opened her eyes and stared up at him. His green eyes looked blankly into the gloom past the fire for a long moment, then he blinked.

"L-love?" he murmured. She smiled gently.

"I-I think so..." she said softly. "E-ever since you rescued my brother and treated me like a person, not an object. And since...you saved me, I-I have known...I-I understand if you...well...can't..." He turned his head to her, leaning towards her so their lips almost touched.

"I already love the feisty, brave blonde who saved my life and nursed me back to health. I-I can't say I won't be difficult...because I have ghosts in my past, Milady...but I would be proud to spend my life with you as well..." And his lips gently met hers, their bodies moulding together as he raised a hand without permission to her cheek. "I love you, Milady Astrid," he whispered.

"I love you, Hiccup," she whispered back and kissed him again.

oOo

Gobber was sitting at the table in his saloon, sipping his home-made mead. He would never admit it to anyone but the latest batch had been very rough...but he was working his way through it well. The twins were messing around out back and hammering away-though when challenged, they just claimed to be 'getting ready'. Their grins certainly didn't inspire any confidence.

Dagur and his gang were patrolling the town day and night as they had for the past week, seeking for news of Ryder or Astrid and Gobber was used to them bursting in several times a day, hoping to catch one or both fugitives just sitting at the table sharing a mead with the proprietor. They had smashed up various houses and generally persecuted anyone with ties to Alvin or Ryder...though they had problems with the latter, since the only people he had interacted with him had been the Berserkers, Gobber, Stoick, Fishlegs and the twins...and all of them were immune in a way...except Gobber. So he didn't even bother to look up as a set of limping steps approached from the kitchen.

"He ain't here!" Gobber growled.

"Drinking that rotgut will kill you as surely as your cooking will!" an unfamiliar voice said...as Gobber looked up...to meet a scarred visage that had him choking on his drink. "See? My point exactly!"

"But you-you-you're dead!" Gobber coughed. "I-I heard you die!"

"Um...I screamed when a Whispering Death bit my leg off," Leo said with a sigh. "Thank you so much for bringing it up, I have completely gotten over it after twenty years...not!"

"But how...?" Gobber whispered.

"Trained Dragon Master, remember?" Leo sighed. "I eventually managed to stop them attacking me...after losing several body parts...but Star had to rescue me and take me to Gothi..."

"And ye've bin there ever since?" Gobber gasped. His face was shocked. Leo shrugged, something his scrawny, lanky frame was well-suited for.

"Nothing to come back for," he admitted. "And I kinda reckoned Alvin would have a price on my head. Though that doesn't seem to be a problem now...I hear Dagur is a more immediate threat?"

"Eh, laddie-the town's in even more of a mess than when ye...left..."

"And he's after my nephew and Astrid?" Leo checked.

"That's where I've seen that sarcastic streak o' piss!" Gobber exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "Of course, he's the splitting image o'ye before...this..." He gestured to Leo and the man quirked a definite eyebrow.

"Gee, thanks!" Leo said sarcastically as Gobber suddenly stared at him.

"Ye've met him," he realised.

"Yes."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"And healin'?"

"Yes."

"But how...?"

"Gobber-I have not risked coming here to play twenty questions!" Leo told him firmly. "He's safe, healing and with the Night Fury which he has bonded with. The girl and her brother are safe as well. But I am here because Drago is on his way here with Alvin...so this town will be a war zone when he arrives. You need to get outta here, my friend...you and anyone else who doesn't want to avail themselves of a twins quickie!" Gobber paused but suddenly he stared very closely at the scarred man.

"Ye know the twins?" he asked directly and Leo nodded.

"Met them about three years ago in the cemetery at night," he admitted. "I was visiting Val. Gods know what they were doing there at that time."

"Dinnae ask-probably burying someone who isnae quite dead yet!" the blacksmith shrugged. "And those two idiots ne'er said a thing?" Leo flashed a sudden grin.

"Not sure you ever listened to them talking about Uncle Hopalong," he grinned and Gobber started. He tended to tune the twins craziness out...just as everyone else did. "Yes, they knew. They told me a little...but there was no regular contact because I stay with Gothi. And Star would be a prize for the Trappers..." Gobber nodded in acknowledgement. "Anyway, my friend, please-get outta here...at least until this is done."

"And who will end it?" Gobber asked in a defeated voice. "We just wait until the two gangs fight to a standstill...?"

"Or we allow my nephew to do what has to be done-since that seems to be all he has been doing since he arrived..." Leo said and smiled. "I gotta go..."

"I think not!" a voice said from the door and Leo's head snapped up, his green gaze widening in shock as Dagur walked into the saloon. Instantly, the one-legged man turned and raced for the kitchen-to meet Vorg coming out, his pistol posted menacingly at the lean shape. Leo backed up, raising his hands. He stared from man to man and his eyes fell on the carrot-haired, pale-green eyed shape of Dagur.

"Dagur the Deranged, I guess," he said calmly.

"I've never met you-but you look familiar," he said, walking forward and grabbing the man's hair, pulling his head back. "Hmm...I heard you saying you knew where Ryder was..."

"Wow...I'd have thought a big dragon merchant would have better things to do than listen at doors," Leo suggested, earning himself a punch in the gut. He folded up but was grabbed by two men and held helpless.

"I want to know where Ryder is...and who you are as well..." Dagur said with a menacing grin. Leo rolled his eyes.

"Don't always get what you want," he sighed. Dagur almost shook with rage...then grabbed Leo by the throat.

"I think I will..." he breathed. "Take him to the Compound. I want no interruptions..."