A Journey Begins
Hiccup & Eleanor - Part 1 - Chapter 4
This is Hiccup & Eleanor, book two of The White Age, which I will be releasing as a serial - with one chapter per week - over the coming months. You can also preorder the book here or catch up on Substack here.
Book one, Absolution, is available for purchase on Amazon, or you can catch up here.
i)
Hampshire, England
25/09/2074
The setting sun cast a red veil across the sky, amplifying the vibrant clusters of cloud, which hung low and climbed up to the edge of the atmosphere; bulbous and mean, they loomed over England as Hiccup and Eleanor began their journey. The air was thick and damp after a long, hot day. Hiccup had said it would be better to travel in the dark in order to avoid being seen by any drifters. He called them “soldiers”, but Eleanor knew what he meant. His vision wasn't affected by the dark and so Eleanor begrudgingly agreed this plan was best. Her fear of the dark would be eased by his presence, especially after she had seen what he was capable of doing; especially now that she was sure he was her friend. He fought for me, father, she thought as they walked into the near-dark, he kept me safe when you weren’t here so I know I can trust him.
Hiccup
It was the first time she had left the house since her parents had left. She had gone out to the shed for a tool or some supplies, but even that was a rare occurrence; her father had ensured that everything she should need be inside the house. “There is only evil outside. Do not leave under any circumstances.” he had said to her the day before they had left. And now I am going outside; I am going to walk up our street for the first time, father. Her excitement and anticipation were tempered with the sheer terror of being exposed and out in the real world without her parents.
They packed lightly: a two-man tent that Hiccup had retrieved from the shed; enough food for two weeks; Bilbo; a few items of clothing; and Eleanor’s father’s journal. All Hiccup needed were a few tools for any emergency repairs. He had recovered his arm almost completely, though he still lacked a couple of fingers, and it still made an odd fizzing sound when it moved. His leg, however, could only be patched. The Doctor would be able to fix that completely, he assured Eleanor when he noticed her eyeing it with concern. They had packed the dagger that Eleanor’s father had given her, in its small metal box, in which Hiccup had shown a great deal of interest. He had run his fingers over the engraved insignia on the top and seemed to hum with enthusiasm at its design. He must have seen this before, she thought, as his face pulsed a deep purple. He's beautiful.
The sky had turned a blood red, as they rounded the house onto the street, and thick droplets of rain began to decorate the dusty ground with their bloated sacrifice. It were as though the sky was bursting in celebration at Eleanor’s emergence from her house. It was her re-birth into the broken, contorted world from which she had been sheltered for so long. Within ten minutes of walking, the skies began to roar with a ferocious strength, as lightning tore its angular way through the thick, red-black clouds. Eleanor was grateful for the waterproof that Hiccup had retrieved from under the stairs and asked her to wear. He must have known the storm was coming. She had heard the storms before, from the comfort of her home, even seen the flashes of light as they blasted overhead but seeing it out in the open was a terrifying marvel. At least at home she could scurry under her duvet or hide under the stairs and wait for the explosions of sound and light to fade. But here there was no escape from the wind, the rain, the raw energy of a violent sky.
Hiccup
Eleanor held Hiccup's hand tightly as her eyes furtively danced between the raucous sky and every window and every door that they passed. She had heard enough gunshots, screams and explosions while living in her house to know that the outside was dangerous. I just have to trust him to look after me. They soldiered on through the wind, rain and terrible noises, and Eleanor squeezed Hiccup’s hand as tightly as she was able.
The pain in her broken arm and ribs was dulled by an injection that Hiccup had given her. She had to let him know if the pain worsened and if so, he would produce another vial of liquid from inside his right forearm to administer some relief. It worked well: she felt only the secure tightness of the splint and the bandage, though it made her head spin if she stood up too fast. The black bandage had contracted around her arm, locking it in place, as though it were a secondary skin; its rough, textured material providing comfort and security.
Hiccup's plan was for them to travel along the canal to the nearest airfield. It was in the next town east of their current location, Farnborough, and Hiccup said it should only take them one day to get there. From there they would take a plane and fly up to Scotland, where The Doctor's home and laboratory were. Eleanor trusted him, despite what her father had told her about robots and about anyone from outside their home. He had fought for her and fixed her after she had been hurt. There was something about him that seemed human; his fragility, his caring nature, which reinforced her trust.
ii)
Though the storm eventually dissipated into the night sky, they made slower progress than Hiccup had hoped. The level of destruction on their route made them continually change direction and cut through houses and gardens. The whole area had been utterly destroyed. It was a marvel that their road had seen so little damage. Eleanor was lucky to be alive. She glanced at the terror that had surrounded her, as though she had been preserved. Craters replaced buildings and vehicles were abandoned everywhere she looked. She had heard bombings, she had heard gunshots, but she never expected the damage to be as severe as this. It was just normality. The war was happening outside, and she was safe inside. That was all that mattered. The world outside was as important as a song; it played in the background of her life, and she just survived as she was. Now that it was visible, tangible, she could feel the weight of all she saw leaning on her shoulders; guilt and sadness swelled within her as she contemplated the pain that had been suffered by countless others just outside her door. My parents had to escape through this, to find help. Maybe they weren’t able to. Maybe that’s why they never came back. The realisation that her parents may be dead was like a bullet to her stomach. Nausea rose in her throat and the world seemed to drift from focus. No, I have to believe they are safe.
As though sensing her sadness, Hiccup stopped and turned to face her, silent and observant for a moment. “Shall we rest a while?” He eventually asked. Eleanor nodded as she gazed up at the swollen, pearlescent moon. The sinister, broken world was given a rich, crystalline hue in the silvery light of the stars.
Hiccup
They entered a shell of a house that, Hiccup told her, was two miles from their starting point. The entire second floor gaped open with a fragmented grin, as though bathing gormless in the moonlight. Eleanor shivered as they passed beneath the cracked and fraying brick walls. Hiccup removed her saturated waterproof and gestured for her to sit on the floor in the corner of what was once a lounge; only two walls and half a ceiling remained but it was enough for them to stay out of sight and out of any more rain. Hiccup watched her sit and then disappeared into the night, leaving Eleanor shivering and straining to hear every tiny sound. I hate this place. She longed for her home, where she knew every nook, cranny and safe space. Outside, she was lost.
Hiccup returned after several minutes, his face a dull green. Eleanor understood this was his way of relaying calm and it soothed her slightly. They made a bed from the sofa cushions that remained unburnt and the clothing they had brought with them. Hiccup gestured for Eleanor to climb inside. She smiled with the realisation that he wouldn't be sleeping. It was hard for her to remember that he was a robot, his mannerisms were so familiar, so human. She also had someone to watch over her all night. She was not used to this and welcomed the new feeling of security.
"Can you charge here?" Eleanor asked him with a whisper.
"There is no power source here, but I have enough to last a long time, perhaps a week. I will rest and conserve power." Hiccup sat down on a wooden stall opposite Eleanor. He noticed her face drop and carried on, "but I will still be able to watch over you. You are safe here."
Eleanor closed her eyes and tried to let her mind rest. Images of Hiccup, the dead men, and the blood, were fixed in her mind's eye. She couldn't release the thoughts. The gaping grin of the house they were now using as a place to rest wouldn’t leave her head. It’s like I’m sleeping in its mouth. She clutched Bilbo tighter to her chest and squeezed her eyes harder shut. Sleep wouldn't come.
When she gave up trying to sleep, she looked over to Hiccup. He was sat with his back perfectly straight. His face blank apart from a single yellow dot in the centre which pulsed softly.
"Are you asleep." She whispered. The single dot grew slowly into a sheet of yellow over his entire face.
"I do not sleep, Eleanor. I just rest to conserve power."
"Do you dream?"
"A dream is your imagination misfiring."
"You don't have an imagination?"
"I was created to not have an imagination, or even feelings."
"You feel nothing?" Eleanor sat up, shocked. Hiccups face flickered a soft red and then back to a dark yellow which sent the hue of a sunrise across the walls and floor.
"I was created to feel nothing."
"I'm sorry." Despite what Hiccup had said, Eleanor could feel a sadness in his voice. But the colours on his face, and the way he has looked after me, surely he does feel?
"There is no need to apologise. I am just a machine." He hiccuped and again his cheeks flickered red; like he was blushing.
Eleanor paused a moment as she watched him with a half-smile. "It's okay, Hiccup. I will keep your secret. That's what friends are for." She smiled and lay back down, closing her eyes.
"What secret, Eleanor? I have no secrets." Eleanor opened one eye a sliver and saw the red had deepened where his cheeks would have been.
"Good night, Hiccup." She whispered through a smile.
"Good night, Eleanor." He replied after a moment’s hesitation and Eleanor sensed a hint of happiness in his voice, perhaps even humour. This robot is weird, she thought, but I like him. She was still smiling as she began to lightly snore, bathed in the yellow glow of the onlooking Hiccup.
Hiccup
iii)
26/09/2074
Hiccup woke Eleanor as the sun began to give the sky a delicate, purple glow. She woke immediately from a light sleep; she had never been a good sleeper, had never considered herself safe enough. She sat up and stretched, eyeing Hiccup with caution, her mind racing to recalibrate with her location and safety. Her dreams had been laced with allusions of death, loneliness and the feeling of being lost.
"How long was I asleep for?" She asked, her head cloudy from sleep.
"Two hours and thirty-seven minutes. It's four forty-seven AM." Hiccup leaned over and offered his hand to help her up. She obliged. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay, thank you. Tired." Hiccup's head was lulled slightly to one side, he was thinking deeply, Eleanor could tell by the soft red tone of his face; she was beginning to understand what the colours meant. Unfamiliar with body language, she was beginning to decode the shapes and colours that floated in and out of view across his face.
"What?" She asked, self-conscious and not a little worried.
"I am picking up high levels of radiation from you. I noticed it yesterday, but I assumed it was because of our proximity to the blast radius. The air here does not match the levels on your skin and so it seems that you should be feeling the effects of acute radiation poisoning. Are you sure you feel okay?" Hiccup's delivery was sharp and concise, he was behaving exactly how she had expected a robot to behave; stood upright and relaying words with crisp, formulaic clarity.
Hiccup
"No, I'm okay." Eleanor looked down at her hands as she turned them over. She felt hot, but that was always the case. She didn't feel poisoned at all. Her mind flicked back to her father holding her, crying, and her mother shivering with a fever. She shook away the thought, it was nothing.
"Perhaps my sensors are faulty, I will raise it with The Doctor when we reach her." He paused a moment, considering as he was prone to do, before turning on his heel and gathering their pack of supplies. "We should get going before sunrise, are you ready?"
"I need the bathroom." Eleanor blushed and Hiccup's face flashed a soft pink.
"You can go behind that wall.” He said, gesturing, “I will wait. It is safe, I promise.”
iv)
They set off in the soft, growing light of morning, keeping low and close to buildings, foliage and vehicles wherever possible. They passed some overturned autobuses that looked as though they'd been thrown a great distance by some terrible, colossal monster. Eleanor cursed her imagination and looked away. The birds here were bigger and louder and in far greater supply. They tore around and around in a feathered tornado, screaming with a terrible passion. Hiccup’s movement became more measured, more pronounced, as he seemed to be wary of what they were approaching. Eleanor hated that he knew more than she did, and let on so little, but a small thought in the back of her mind assured her that that was probably for the best. Her fear was unfaltering, and she was glad that he was the one in charge.
Brambles and stinging-nettles fought for attention on either side of a narrow canal path, sometimes obscuring the ground completely. They had to weave their way through, and Eleanor was grateful for her jeans, as the thorns tugged and snagged at every inch of her. The birds seemed to grow louder with their approach as the path led them directly into their midst. Eleanor stared open-mouthed at their synchronised madness; they swooped, cawed, barked and spun in the air as they tumbled together. Jet-black jackdaws and crows writhed with anger and lust in equal measure, seemingly driving the wind with their flailing, blustering wings. The dying sky fought for dominance over the darkness of their ample flapping span, as though they were the last remaining vestiges of night.
Hiccup and Eleanor rounded a swathe of gruelling weeds and saw that the birds weren’t flying aimlessly, but that they were spinning in formation above a pile of dead bodies. The bodies were swollen and broken and bloodied. The grey skin oozed from feeble old pieces of clothing which seemed to groan under the damp pressure. They had formed a dam in the canal, largely blocking the flow of water. Around the sides of the mound of dead humans, water cascaded gently; running over the tortured, puckered faces of taught, fraying skin, and patches of exposed bone; each body marked with bullet-holes and knife-slashes.
Eleanor couldn’t avert her eyes as tears filled them, initially from the stench and then from the pain of what she was witnessing. She guessed there were a hundred people here who had seemingly been murdered and then thrown into the canal. A shrine had been erected on the footpath a short distance from where Hiccup and Eleanor stood. It was decorated beautifully, with religious affectations and dead flowers. One red rose lay across the bottom of the roughshod wooden structure.
Hiccup walked to the shrine steadily, his arms slightly raised, his shoulders hunched over in anticipation. Like when he fought the drifters. Standing still, he stared at the dead flowers, the ornaments, the red rose. Slowly, he knelt down and, with his good hand, picked up the rose between his forefinger and thumb. He held it close to his face, which swam with a variety of shape and colour, before returning it gently to the shrine, as though it might explode. He stood sharply and turned to face Eleanor.
"We need to keep moving." His voice was unflinching, but his posture was taut. Eleanor's eyes moved from his face to the pile of rotting bodies, the now yellow morning sun making them shine like seashells on a beach. "The rose is barely a day old. Someone is close, and we do not want them to see us."
Hiccup
"Are they bad?"
"I do not know, but we need to go. Now." He walked past Eleanor and paused before a low road-bridge which loomed over the canal. "It is this way." Eleanor watched him, a feeling of exhaustion and sadness smothering her. The rawness of the death saddened her, and she felt drawn to this place. This is what she had been ignoring while locked away in her house, this was a fragment of the horror she had been shielded from. In that moment she felt grateful that her parents had made sure she was safe from seeing and experiencing such horror but, at the same time, she was shamed by her sheltered happiness; she had existed in a microcosm of safety that was in vivid juxtaposition to what she was now witnessing.
She grabbed Hiccup’s outstretched hand and they both ducked down to walk under the bridge and continue on the footpath along the canal. After several minutes of walking in silence, with only the sound of the screaming birds fading behind them, Eleanor found her voice. "Who were those dead people?"
"They were not soldiers; it is likely that they were civilians." Hiccup replied without looking at her.
"Like me. Like my parents?" Eleanor's voice choked as her throat tightened.
"Yes, but your parents will be safe. Like you are."
"How can you be sure?" Tears had begun to run down Eleanor's cheeks.
"Because you are a survivor, and so must your parents be." Hiccup looked at her, his face a light blue. Calming, soothing blue. This stopped Eleanor crying.
"Will I ever see them again?" She asked, almost in a whisper.
"Once The Doctor has helped me, I will help you find them."
Eleanor stopped walking, stunned. "Really? You would do that?" Hiccup turned to face her and crouched down so his face was level with hers.
"If that is what you want, I will help you." His words were assertive, though not without a moment of hesitation.
"Thank you, Hiccup." She smiled and hugged him tightly, nearly knocking him off his feet. He blushed and placed a hand lightly on her back. After she let go, he scanned the ground and moved his fingers lightly over the ruts and dents in the soil and bracken. "What are you doing?"
"These tracks in the ground, they are not from today. Let us continue, but we need to stay out of sight as much as we can. We can find somewhere to rest and then finish the journey tonight, under darkness. Okay?" Eleanor nodded and they continued on their way.
Hiccup
Houses could be seen both to their left and, across the canal, to their right. They were large, once expensive houses with sweeping gardens down to the lush, overgrown reeds at the water’s edge. The houses across the river were far less damaged than those to their immediate left, which increased the sense of foreboding Eleanor felt. The smell of death had faded now but there was an underlying hint of burning in the air. Just as clothes would smell after being around a bonfire, the sweet tang catching the back of her throat.
The houses to their left were brick shells. Blackened remains of furniture could be seen piled haphazardly into corners and entire walls clung pathetically to one another by fragments of brick and scrapings of mortar. Windows only held a broken memory of glass, jutting angrily from every edge. Eleanor couldn't help herself from peering into each house, expecting to see another set of eyes, or a thick-set man with a knife or a gun. Hiccup will protect me, she thought, he has saved my life once already.
v)
They walked for the rest of the morning, pausing only so Eleanor could eat a snack: a small chocolate bar from a ration-pack which had the words ‘The Faith’ emblazoned on its side; her appetite had failed her. As the warmth of the day increased into the afternoon, they decided to find somewhere to set up camp until nightfall. Hiccup seemed concerned about travelling this late into the day, under the light of the risen sun. Eleanor could see from his furtive glances and clenched fists that he was becoming more concerned with each step. Eleanor felt that she could read and understand this robot better now; his characteristics were markedly human, and his mannerisms betrayed what he was thinking.
“Wait here.” He scuttled off, over another low bridge which crossed the canal, into a mass of unkempt shrubbery on the far side. Eleanor stood and waited, her eyes darting forwards and backwards, up into the trees, into the murky green waters. She took a step back, toward a fence which stood parallel to the path down which they had been walking. Low-hanging branches overhead offered some respite from the midday sun. She was shrouded as best she could by darkness as she waited. Her heart began to thunder in her chest as the silence seemed to close in around her, snatching at her breath. The robot’s willingness to leave her at a moment’s notice had left her on edge. What if he doesn’t come back?
A tight, sharp whistle, like a single, staccato note of birdsong, pierced the air. Eleanor looked up and saw Hiccup peering over a small wooden panel across the canal. He gestured her over with a quick wave and she ran. Without pausing, she launched herself from the shade and down the path, over the tarmac road which spanned the bridge, and down the other side, to Hiccup. She backed up to him, checking that nobody had followed, and he placed a placating hand on her shoulder. She exhaled deeply.
“Please, don’t leave me like that again.” She said in gasps of breath, which she realised she had been holding for what felt like minutes. Hiccup tilted his head to one side, as he did when he was weighing something in his mind, like a dog trying to locate a sound.
“I am sorry, Eleanor. I found a safe place for us to rest until nightfall.”
Hiccup
“It’s okay. I just got scared.” She peered past him, looking for some kind of solid structure which would keep them safe. “What have you found?” She couldn’t see anything behind him, just a wooden pallet on its side, a short tree, and a large expanse of overgrown brambles beyond.
“Here.” He stepped to one side and revealed a square, wooden door on the ground. “It is an old air-raid shelter. I have checked inside, and it is clear. It appears to have not been used for decades.” He walked over and lifted the hatch door, beckoning with his free hand for her to look inside. Tentatively, Eleanor walked forward and leaned over the side. It was pitch black and she could see nothing at all, even with the sun glaring down at them.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” She asked, her voice disappearing into the black hole in the ground before her as though snatched by an invisible hand. She took a step away and looked at Hiccup, concerned.
"It is fine." He said, "I promise." In one swift motion he crouched, spun and slid beneath the ground. Eleanor's eyes followed him as he was consumed wholly by the darkness. Half a second later there was a click and a bright light shone inside the hole. Hiccup was there, his head about two feet below her. His entire face was emitting a stunning white light which ran down his arms, torso and legs. He was a beacon. The brightness betrayed his wounds. Scars ran across his chest and legs; his arms were grazed, and deep scratches interrupted the outpouring of light.
Hiccup
"Wow," Eleanor said, shielding her eyes, "that's too bright!" She laughed as he apologised and dimmed his lights by a few degrees. She climbed down after him. The room was small, not much bigger than the cupboard in which she had found Hiccup, but large enough for them both to rest for a few hours. It was empty apart from a couple of small crates that gaped toothless into Hiccup’s light and a handful of bugs that writhed against the rotting wooden panels, in search of dirt and quiet solace elsewhere. “What is this place?” Eleanor asked as she sat against one of the crates, using the rucksack they had packed as a pillow against the cold, wooden panel wall.
“It was a shelter from bombings, in the wars from before. So people would be safe.” Hiccup settled down opposite her after closing the hatch. With the light he emitted, the room was almost cosy and, apart from the musty smell, it was cool and safe.
“How sad.” Eleanor frowned at Hiccup’s words as he dimmed his light further. She felt sleep paw at her eyes and then her entire body; she was exhausted.
So so sad.
vi)
She dreamed of her father. He was drawing in his journal, frantically, maniacally. She couldn't see his face, just his matted mess of beard poking around the outline of his withered cheeks. She was short, she must have been younger, and she pulled at his shirt sleeve to get his attention. He ignored her and remained at his desk, drawing, drawing, drawing. She started to cry so she pulled harder at his arm, but to no avail. So she tried to climb up the back of his chair, scrambling onto his shoulders and then edging around the side of the chair, using him and the chair as a climbing frame, just like she used to when they were playing. But he was stiff, and wet, soaked through. His clothes were sodden and riddled with holes and scratches. She looked down at the paper on which he was drawing and saw the words, "FIRE. FIRE. FIRE" In a ragged, broken scrawl. She looked down at his face and it was hollow, saggy and bloated. He was dead. Like the bodies in the canal, he was long dead and long drowned. He opened his mouth and water poured out in an endless rush. Eleanor screamed and fell back off the chair.
vii)
Eleanor’s hands were on fire and she screamed with pain. She looked down and saw that her hands were glowing a fierce red. And they burned. Tears streamed down her cheeks and exploded into steam, dispersing into nothing in the thin air. The room glowed orange, but Hiccup’s lights were off. The light is coming from me! She was burning and she was lighting the inside of the hatch a bright orange. Hiccup was lying awkwardly against his crate, as though he were fast asleep. But he doesn't sleep, she thought. What's happening to him?
The light, which had previously been filtering in through the thin cracks in the hatch above them had gone: it was night. She crawled over the dusty floor and leant over his prone body. His head was cocked to the side in an awkward arc, and he seemed to be gently vibrating. Eleanor instinctively placed her hand on his chest, to wake him, or to check for some sign of life, but as she did so there was a hiss as the heat from her hands met his cold, metal frame. She pulled her hand back, startled, but Hiccup didn't flinch.
"Hiccup?" She asked softly, through uncontrollable sobs, leaning in close and listening for anything at all. There was a soft muttering coming from his neck, under his chin. She leaned in closer to decipher the noise.
"You do not have to do this, Zero." The voice said. It was cold and assertive, demanding. "Disengage, or you will be destroyed." Eleanor's face was almost on Hiccup's chest now, she could hear the blood pumping through her ears. The light in the room had completely guttered out, the light emitting from her, but she hadn't noticed. "We know your location and we know where you are going. You will be destroyed if you do not disengage. Do you copy? This is your final warning." The voice became frantic before it vanished after a click. Hiccup lay there, still vibrating softly.
Eleanor stared at him, terrified. Is he dead? She looked down at her hand and could barely see it; she wasn't as hot anymore; a sheen of cold sweat covered her body. She placed her hand on Hiccup’s chest once again, it retained a warmth from when she burned him and shook him gently. Nothing. She didn't know what else to do so she started to tap him. "Wake up, Hiccup. Please." Tears were running freely from her eyes and dripping onto his body. They're not turning to steam anymore, she thought, relieved. Hiccup stopped vibrating and a tiny speck of light appeared in the centre of his face. Eleanor rested her hand on his chest and felt the inner workings begin to whir into life. He is waking up, she thought. Please wake up, Hiccup!
In a moment, his entire body pulsed with a rich light. Up and down his arms and legs and torso, the white light chased itself back and forth for a second or two. Eleanor leaned back and watched as the light on his face grew to a steady yellow glow, filling all of the available space in their shelter. He looked at her, or at least she thought he was looking at her. He faced her. And then his hand shot up, the right hand with the missing fingers, and grabbed her throat. Eleanor choked and grabbed his arm as his hand began to squeeze. The light on his face dissolved into a deep red, the red she saw the night he saved her, the night he killed the drifters. She wheezed and spat and snatched at his arm; the strength was boundless, teetering on the edge of an avalanche that would end her life. Please, no.
The red light dispersed from his face in a waterfall of colour (like blood, she thought, fleetingly) and a rush of light blue, like a breaking wave, replaced it. His hand let go. Eleanor fell on top of him, panting, gasping for air; her throat was agony.
She lay on top of him for several seconds and then sheepishly pushed herself up and away, so as not to startle him, to cause another attack. Hiccup stirred and sat up as she moved away to the edge of the shelter. He looked around, seemingly confused and unaware of his surroundings, as the lights in his face dancing inconsistently; they had lost their control, their elegance. He placed his good hand on his chest where Eleanor had burned him and looked down. He looked up again and Eleanor began to cry.
"Eleanor, I am sorry. I hurt you, did I?" Hiccup leaned over and tried to place his hand on Eleanor's knee, she flinched away with a sob, eyeing him cautiously. They sat like this, with only Eleanor's sobs punctuating the silence, for several minutes before she turned to face him, her face wet with tears and her eyes reddened. The lights in his face were balletic in their chaos; flowing from green to blue to red to nothing at all. All of the fluidity she had seen and understood before was now gone. Hiccup is gone, she thought, claustrophobic. I need to get out of here. “That was not me. They are trying to control me, and I forgot where I was. Who I was. I promise, I will never hurt you again.” He raised his broken hand in front of his face and flexed the three remaining fingers, as though only just realising that digits were missing.
Hiccup
"That wasn't you, that attacked me? I heard someone else's voice inside you." Hiccup held her stare as the soft blue on his face struggling to remain, though more consistent than before. "Who was it?"
"There are people who want me to stop running." Hiccup's head dropped with sadness, shame, embarrassment. "They should not be able to contact me, track me, control me. I don’t understand how…"
"Why are you running?” She cut him from his reverie. “Are they bad?"
"I think they could be."
"They said they will destroy you if you don't stop. You need to stop running."
"They will destroy me whatever I do. I managed to push back, and they should not be able to access my system like that again." He stared at the ground in front of him. He was visibly shaken by what he had done, and by what had been done to him. Eleanor rose to her feet and walked to him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, as though it hurt, but then remained still. Eleanor smiled at him as his face swam clumsily with a light green colour.
“I’ll run with you then.” She said, smiling through the tears in her eyes.
“Thank you. I am sorry I hurt you. I promise I will never hurt you again.” He touched her hand as he said it. Eleanor wanted to flinch, to remove herself and get away from this robot but she fought against it and stayed in place. Her trust was shattered but there was still belief in him. Her faith in him being her friend was unshaken. I want to help him. I cannot give up on him now.
“The lights in your face, they’re different.”
“My system was compromised; I am faulting. It will get worse until The Doctor is able to fix me.” He clenched both fists slowly in front of him, the pistons hissing up and down his arms as he did so, as though he were in pain, like he had lost some control. “We should go, now. It is dark outside. We have about four miles left to go, and we have seven hours left until sunrise." He rose to his feet and helped Eleanor up.
Hiccup
They gathered their things, and Hiccup lifted the hatch tentatively. A burst of cold, moist air rushed in to displace the warmth they had created. As the air hit Eleanor's face, she had a flash of memory of her hands on fire. Was that a dream? She wondered. Did that actually happen? Should I tell Hiccup, or does he already know? Her father’s words of warning were once again cycling through her mind. This is not a mistake; he is still my friend. He has to be, I have nobody else. He jumped out and checked the area was clear before leaning back down and hoisting her out into the black of night; the hatch door slammed shut and they were gone.